What Have You Done to Me, Vicky?

“Look, Vicky,” I began, trying to loosen her disturbing embrace. But I was silenced. Completely. I was still talking, still making the motions with my mouth, but no sound was coming out.
“What…” I mouthed.
She released me and stepped back. Her dress was ragged, falling off her shoulders. She was smiling with lips slick and red.
I reached for my neck. But my arm didn’t work. I pulled with my shoulder and slowly pushed my will back into my arm. I shakily moved my hand to my neck. Something was embedded in my flesh just below my jaw. My hand came back wet with blood. I couldn’t see what was in my neck, but it felt extraordinarily similar to a AA battery, half submerged in my skin. I hesitantly met Vicky’s stare.
“What…” I mouthed again, “what have you done to me, Vicky?”
She shrugged, and the remains of her dress dropped to the floor. Now, let me assure you that I have been in the presence of a variety of unclothed women in my life, but none of my experience helped me make sense of what I saw at that moment.

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