Biphobia

"Christi!" Sherie cried in response, crushing her in her slender arms. "I'm so scared, I'm so scared, please, help me, please!" She spluttered through pouring tears.

"It's alright, I'm here." Christi soothed, stroking her hair with one hand while she held her tight with her other. "It's alright."

"I just woke up here in the dark, I was so scared! Help me, please!"

"It's alright…" Christi continued. "I'm here now, I've got you. Come on, quickly, we need to get out of here. There's an exit this way. Come on!"

"I'm so thirsty." Sherie said.

"Me too. Come on, time to drink later. We can get out this way."

Christi led Sherie by the hand into the corridor, back towards the exit that led into open air. They ran briskly through the old building, not stopping to care about finding their clothes or something to cover themselves with. The double doors opened to the push and they ran out of a wide canopied entrance into a parking lot, exposing their naked and dirty skin to an icy blast from the damp air outside. The late afternoon sky was blotted with dark clouds, and a few spots of rain were already dropping onto the leaf-strewn tarmac as they ran into the open air.

"Rene's car!" Sherie shouted, pointing to a lone sedan in an otherwise empty car park. They ran for it wordlessly; Christi ignored the stab of gravel and grit at her bare feet and powered towards the car, stopped only when she was level with the driver's door. She pulled on the handle, gave a deep sigh when the door popped open. The keys hung in the ignition, glistening brightly against the dull brown plastic on the steering column.

"Quick, get in." She wheezed breathlessly, dumping herself into the driver's seat and turning the key. The passenger door slammed and Christi gunned the throttle, kicking up a spray of leaves and dirt as the old car fishtailed out of the car park and onto an access road that led onto an empty highway.

"It's the old abandoned building!" Sherie shouted, looking out of the back window.

"What?"

"The one we passed yesterday. On the way home."

"Oh…"

"So we must be on the main highway! Hey, we're going the wrong way!"

"It's alright." Christi said. "There's a town up this way. We'll stop at the nearest place and call the police."

"Hey… Rene's car… You think Rene is back in that building?"

Christi looked at the formidable old block as it retreated in the rear view mirror. Perhaps Rene was in there, and Danika too. They couldn't leave them, could they..? "Um… You wanna go back and look for them?"

"Something weird is going on." Sherie said. "Um… I don't think we should go back in there."

"I think we were lucky to get out. Let's call the police first. Then we can go back. I just hope nothing happens before the police turn up."

"Yeah." Sherie said, then continued: "You came back for me."

Christi forced a smile from her pursed lips. "Yeah. I… I couldn't leave you. Not when I heard you scream." She took a hand from the wheel, reached across to Sherie's naked body, found her hand and squeezed it as tight as she could, grimaced as Sherie squeezed back. It was only as they held hands that she realised how much she was shaking. She heard the wet sound of frightened sobs, looked across to see Sherie's face crease into a horrific mask as tears flowed down her cheeks. "It's alright. We'll be alright."

"I was so scared."

"I know. Me too."

"How did we get into that building?" Sherie asked, sniffling through drying tears.

"I don't know. Do you remember anything?"

"Not much. I remember being in the motel. You?"

"Yeah. I remember…" Christi thought hard. "I remember those guys checking us out."

* * *

They had checked into the motel as the sun began to set. Danika was still in quite a state, although she tried to hide it -- she was quiet, subdued, said almost nothing. Perhaps just being in a motel was enough to bring back the fear of her ordeal. For that reason Christi had insisted they get a family room -- a double and two singles -- so that they could all stay together in case Danika needed any support. She'd have rather got a room with four singles, but the clerk said they didn't have such a thing, so they'd have to draw straws over the double. Not that anyone was really in the mood to care. It seemed that everyone just wanted to go to sleep and then go home.

"I call dibs on a single." Danika said, as they dumped their bags onto the floor.

"I think Christi and Sherie should have the double." Rene said. Christi felt herself burn from within, tried to swallow down the heat that coursed up her spine before if could show on her face, but glanced across at Sherie, saw her turn away from the others and bury her face in her bag, ostensibly searching for something, as it blazed with a bright red flush.

Danika mumbled something under her breath and shrugged her shoulders angrily. Christi wondered what could have made her angry, but decided to say nothing -- she'd been through enough already. She could be forgiven her moods on this day.

"I mean…" Rene said, stuttering and choking on her own breath as she turned to Christi. "I just mean you two are closest. I… No, I meant, you've known each other longest, is all."

"Yeah." Christi said, her voice higher and tighter than she'd have liked. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind. That alright with you, Sher?"

"Uh-huh." Sherie said from the depths of her bag.

"Cool. Sharing it is."

She turned from Rene, began to sort through her bag for her toothbrush. Another night in the same bed as Sherie wasn't a bad thing, anyway. Once the lights were out she could roll closer to Sherie and bask in her warmth, maybe even embrace her silently. There would be neither privacy nor mood for anything else, but closeness was all she wanted -- just a soft embrace, to feel Sherie's arms around her body, to feel her breath on her skin, to smell her scent and feel her heart beating in her chest, under her sweet bosom. A closeness to remember that one good night, and hopefully as a prelude to many more that would follow, once they got back home and at last had some time alone together. And if Sherie was asleep, or wasn't willing to risk even an embrace while Rene and Danika were in the room, then she could just lie close to her, close enough to hear her breath and feel its wind on her arm, and gaze into the darkness at her sleeping face and dream of their next kiss.

"We should get straight to bed." Christi said, digging out her nightshirt. She'd love to be naked next to Sherie again, but that didn't feel appropriate. "The sooner we sleep, the sooner we can get up and be on our way."

"Good idea." Sherie replied.

"I could use some food." Rene said.

"Well, alright, we could hit the bar, I suppose." Christi said. "They'll be serving food about now."

"Yeah. And I won't be able to sleep without a drink." Danika added.

Christi put down her nightshirt, glanced across at her friend. She'd cleaned up her face before leaving the police station, but still her skin had a deathly pale blankness to it as if she still wore her Goth makeup. Her eyes were sunken and drawn, and her lips had no colour. Christi thought about pointing out that alcohol wouldn't do her any good, and would likely make her feel worse in the long run, but decided to say nothing. She was really shaken up, the poor thing; let her have a couple of vodkas, if it would calm her nerves and help her to sleep. Christi would just have to keep an eye on her, to make sure she didn't have too many and make herself ill. Staying up all night nursing a vomiting friend didn't feature highly on her list of favourite things to do, especially after a day like this.

"Alright. Let's head to the bar and get some food." She said.

They locked the room and made off down the corridor, into the lift and into the bar, the mood subdued and their voices quiet, when they bothered to speak at all. The bar was almost empty, so they grabbed a table near the corner, flicked through the menus and placed orders for sandwiches and a side of fries.

The food was prepared and delivered quickly as they sipped at their drinks. A group of young guys appeared after a while and perched themselves at the bar near their table, glancing across at them as they spoke amongst themselves. Christi caught sight of Rene glancing back, making eye contact and smiling, and she shot her a steely glance, tried to convey in her eyes that tonight was not a night for fooling around with guys. Even Sherie risked a few casual glances in their direction, and Christi felt a little tightness in her throat, together with an unpleasant burn in her chest, when she noticed this. Was Sherie checking out guys? And was this jealousy that simmered inside her? Was she really jealous? It certainly felt like it, much as it took her by surprise.

"Another round?" Danika said, after they had finished eating. The looks from the guys were getting more frequent, and as the level of fluid in their glasses lowered so their voices became louder and more prominent.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Christi said. Perhaps it was just indigestion from her sandwich, but the burning in the pit of her stomach was beginning to bother her, and she just wanted to get back to the room and lie down with Sherie, to gaze at her and pretend that Sherie hadn't spent half the evening checking out random guys.

"Oh, come on, just one more round? We've only had two drinks."

"Yeah, don't be a spoilsport." Rene said with a playful smile. "Come on, another round won't hurt."

"Alright. Same all round?" Christi said, making to stand, but Danika was on her feet first.

"It's alright, I'll get it." She said.

"No, you don't…"

"I said it's alright. I don't want to be a passenger all night. Really, I'm not that bad! I can handle a round of drinks." She shot what looked like a fake smile at the group. "Be right back."

The looks from the guys became stronger and more intimidating, Christi thought, as she sipped. She didn't like their stares, and wanted to get back to the room. She was tired; it had been a stressful day, and she wasn't happy about something. Somewhere inside she was hurting, a physical pain in her chest. It could be heartburn, or it could be jealousy, strange though that was; it could even be her body's way of coming to terms with everything that had happened; a sort of sympathy pain for Danika.

She couldn't stop a sense of worry in the pit of her stomach about Sherie, too. After all, last night her best friendship had taken on a whole new level, and wonderful though it was it was also slightly frightening: what it if went wrong, and she lost her longest-standing friend? And while she had been secretly creaming her brains out over Sherie's writhing body, poor Danika had been locked out in the cold autumn wind, huddling down trying to find some warmth, wearing only a t-shirt and short skirt, having been assaulted by an opportunistic bag-snatcher. If only she had gone after Danika, and not let her go off alone, then maybe she wouldn't have been attacked. Sure, she wouldn't have done those wonderful things with Sherie, but she would have traded one short but fantastic moment of sexual discovery to save her friend from such distress. Wouldn't she?

She was so tired, it was hard to think. She just wanted to go back to the room and go to bed, but she didn't want to leave the others after a day like this. Why couldn't they just hurry up?

A movement attracted her attention, and her heart sank. The guys were coming over to their table. Oh, no…

* * *

"That's the last thing I remember." Christi said.

"You think they spiked our drinks?" Sherie replied.

"I'll bet. But why? I mean, we haven't been… Well, I don't think I've been… It doesn't really feel like I've… I mean, I'd know, wouldn't I? There'd be…"

"I think I'd know, but it doesn't feel like it." Sherie said. "I mean, I even had a feel, when I first woke up, but… Doesn't seem like there's anything wrong."

"It doesn't make any sense."

"No."

They were quiet for a few more miles. The town seemed more distant than Christi remembered, and she wondered if anything might happen to Rene and Danika in the time it took them to call the police and get back. Poor Danika had already been through one attack, and now she could be at the mercy of another. And Rene was only little, she wouldn't be able to repel a determined man, or break down a door.

Perhaps they shouldn't have run off like cowards. Perhaps they should have scoured the building while they were still inside, to see if the others were there. Perhaps the others hadn't woken up yet, which was why they hadn't screamed when Sherie did. Perhaps they had already succumbed to some awful fate.

Christi swallowed. Her throat was painfully dry, and suddenly tight once more. "Hey, climb in the back, see if you can find some blankets or something." She said, mostly to take her mind off her sudden wave of anxiety.

Sherie seemed to be itching for something to distract her, as she obeyed without words, jumped straight over the seats of the old car and pulled down the rear bench to gain access to the trunk. "Our bags are still in the hotel." She called back. "No blankets. Wait, there's some bottled water. You want a drink?"

"Water?"

"Yeah. There's about six bottles in here."

"I don't remember Rene buying any water."

Sherie shrugged in the mirror, holding up a small bottle of mineral water. "It's here." She said, as if challenging Christi to refute the evidence.

Well, that was something. "Sure. Pass me one over."

Sherie hopped back into the front seat and unscrewed the lid, placed it to her lips and took a long swig before shed handed it to Christi. She took it with her spare hand, put it to her mouth and upended it, swallowing half its contents in one. As she lowered the bottle something red caught her eye.

"What's that?" She said, taking her eyes from the road to focus on the bottle.

"What's what?" Sherie replied.

"This?" Something was written on the inside of the label in red pen. Her fingers scrabbled clumsily at the label as she tried to keep her eyes on the road. The label peeled away easily, as if it had already been removed once and re-stuck with what little sticky residue remained on its plastic backside. "Oh, fuck!" She said.

"What?"

"It says: 'You didn't check the seal, did you?'"

"What?"

"It's written in red ball-point. On the inside of the label."

"Fuck…" Sherie mumbled. "Fuck, I feel dizzy. I don't feel good. Pull over, I'm gonna hurl."

"Don't panic, it's just nerves. We've got to make it to the next town."

"Christi, we've been drugged! Pull over! You'll crash!"

"No! I'm going to stay awake until I get to the town!"

"Pull over!"

"No… Nnn…" Christi began, but her words became slurred. The lanes of the highway swirled across one another, merged and slipped away. There was a sudden increase in road noise, a bouncing and lots of clattering from underneath. Hands fought with the wheel, but Christi was pretty certain they weren't hers. She felt dizzy, as if she and the car were spinning around and around in circles, and then a sudden cessation of sound. Everything went black.

* * *

"Wake up." Said a deep voice, distorted and unrecognisable through layers of sleep. Christi's head pounded, her neck ached and her shoulders felt as if they were being wrenched out of their sockets. She tried to roll her neck, felt it crack loudly as muscles stretched.

"Our two escapees have returned." Said the voice again, distantly, somewhere behind a closed door.

Christi's headache disappeared immediately as she was yanked back into reality. Her head popped upright, her eyes snapped open, all pain gone. The events of the last day flickered before her vision as her eyes adjusted to the light; in a flash of darkness, everything was cold and clear.

She was tied to what felt like a padded bench, the narrow sort used in gyms for weight training, her arms outstretched and tied with taught ropes to the walls of the dark room. Her thighs and shins were bound together and roped to the bench so solidly that she could barely move them. Directly above her in the gloom was a rusted shower head, facing her body.

"Number one and number two." The voice, echoing as if from a speaker somewhere, rather than a throat, had an unusually deep and mechanical timbre, as if it was processed by a computer or some kind of vocal effects box. "You left the arena without permission. You have kept numbers three and four waiting unnecessarily. They have been greatly agitated while awaiting your return.

"You have been chosen to enter a game of survival. The winner will earn their life. The losers will not survive."

There was silence again, and the sound of heavy footsteps on wet tiles. "The first round will commence shortly. The rules are simple. The first competitor to cry or scream will be eliminated."

Christi tried to swallow, but her throat was dry and tight. Her mouth yearned for cool water but her stomach quivered so much that she feared it would come straight back up, if she were lucky enough to be given some. But what could she do? She was tied, naked and alone, to a bench in a dark, dank shower room, lit only by a filthy grey light that slid under a windowless double door a metre from her feet.

"Bubblehead will now paint the competitors."

The footsteps resumed. A set of doors clashed, and Christi thought she heard the sound of a subtle whimper. She heard the deep voice talking in a nearby room, but it was no longer as loud, muffled as if behind more than one set of doors. She couldn't make out any of the words it said.

The doors swung and crashed again, and the footsteps reached Christi's doors. Shadows played about the doors as a key jangled in the lock, and then they swung open, bathing Christy with dirty light and the shadow of a horrible silhouette.

"I am Bubblehead." Said the figure at the door. Tall and round, it looked like a large black beach ball that had grown limbs and a head. It seemed to be a man dressed in an inflated rubber suit with a domed hood and a plastic face-plate, from behind which shone two powerful torches, obscuring any detail of face behind the screen. No features could be seen of the underlying body except the hands, which were covered with skin-tight black rubber gloves and heavy wristbands that kept the inflated suit from expelling its air. Heavy black workboots covered his feet. "Number two will be painted." He said, his robotic voice deep and close in the small, dark room.

Christi tried not to whimper as her breath fluttered in her throat; the figure approached, carrying a large white bucket and a paintbrush. It wordlessly stopped beside her, dipped its brush into a clear jelly in the bucket, and elegantly brushed the number '2' on her belly.

Christi was plunged into darkness once more as Bubblehead left the room and locked the door, left with only the itch of the jelly and her fear-heightened sense of hearing. She listened to her thundering heartbeat, and between its frantic pumps made out the sound of Bubblehead's heavy boots walking across wet tiles, echoing around a great empty hall, the jangling of keys at another lock, and more distant, muffled words.

A smell began to permeate the room, stronger and more invasive than the omnipresent smell of mould and damp and cold sweat. It was chemical, it burned in Christi's sinuses. Could it be chlorine? It was something like that. Was it a chlorine jelly that Bubblehead had painted on her belly? Wouldn't that burn..?

It itched, but it didn't really sting. Perhaps it wasn't a strong solution, perhaps it wasn't supposed to burn. Its stink was awful however, enough to set a cold fire inside her nose which burned all the way up her forehead and underneath her eyes. She blinked to clear them, which made them water. Her nose began to fill with mucus and she opened her mouth to breathe, took a burning lungful of chemical air.