Page 7

Alexandra

Exposed

S omeone annoying is shaking me. Why won’t they just let me nap?

I stir, caught between the haze of waking and sleeping.

Instantly, a throbbing headache makes itself known.

Did I go out partying last night? No, that doesn’t make sense.

I’m too poor for parties now. I groan at the recollection, recalling the terrible reality that I’m broke—broke as a politician’s promise.

A stinging pain whips across my cheek, accompanied by a loud smack, startling me awake.

“What the hell?” I exclaim, rubbing my face in outrage.

I glare daggers at my hateful assailant, only for my expression to melt into shock.

“Why are you... naked?” My words trail off in disbelief as I take in the nude woman stooped over me.

She looks Latina, or at least that’s what I assume from her features.

Wait!

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for the inevitable. My eyes travel downward, revealing my own nakedness, causing my heart to pound with frantic panic.

“My Chanel suit!” I shout, scanning the black marble room—no, not a room, it’s a cell.

What the FUCK is happening?

Two other nude women are here too: one with olive skin and black hair is crumpled into an impressive ball shape, sobbing into her knees.

The other is petite, an unfortunate long-haired ginger.

She stands with newly dried blue eyes, raw from weeping, her youthful expression a mix of sympathy and despair.

Still, I continue searching the ominous cell in vain.

Where is my Birkin handbag?

I feel so naked—extra naked. My clothes and fashion are my armor, an unspoken display of status, wealth, and good taste.

Without them, I’m just a nobody. It’s like being in boarding school again, wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but oversized and sticking out like a sore thumb— Heifer and Bigfoot .

The memory of the insults as chilling as the crisp air.

“No Chanel here, chica !” Miss Attitude exclaims in a Spanish accent I’m unfamiliar with. “The putos took all our clothes. Everything!” Her face twists into a sneer, and I get the sense this woman would claw a bitch for a wrong move.

So, I make no move, offering a weak smile and averting my gaze. Miss Attitude tuts and stalks towards the thick bars of the cell.

“Hey, hey! Let us out of here, you pendejo !” She clutches the metal with a white-knuckled grip, screaming.

It only drives the black-haired woman to sob harder.

I study her, trying to make sense of her features, but it’s hard to be certain with her balled up.

Her cries elicit a flicker of sympathy in me.

I know those tears well—crying so hard and long until exhausted, all you have left are weak remnants, but the pain and emptiness never go away.

I struggle to remember, overwhelmed by this crazy situation. The alien titan—he came for me—it must have been. Why did it ignore everyone else on the bridge? Especially with all those tourists milling around, he could’ve kidnapped anyone, hundreds of people even, if he had the time.

A new sense of dread catches my breath as I scan the other women—all young and pretty.

Oh, fucking hell.

I’m onboard an alien spaceship— the Rape Express.

Laughter shakes my naked body, tinged with the sharpest bitterness and most sardonic irony.

If there’s a God, then he hates my guts.

How did things get to this point? Months ago, relaxing on yachts in the Mediterranean with a cocktail in hand, the sun kissing my skin, not a care in the world, to this!

Standing up, suddenly overcome with seething anger, I lament my jiggling belly. These other women are all petite, with perky breasts. Miss Attitude even has toned muscles and an impressive outline of abs. I pinch a roll of my stomach fat, frowning.

I should’ve eaten those tasteless salads Jamal—my personal trainer—recommended.

Or not! Maybe my extra weight will be a blessing? My impressive boobs, wide hips, and husky build might spare me from the attentions of our alien captor.

Yes, yes!

A sly smile twists my lips as I scrutinize the others. I’m like a giant compared to them—I’m Heifer and Bigfoot, only this time, that’s a good thing!

“What’s so funny?” Miss Attitude approaches with a disapproving look twisting her face. “I don’t think this situation is very funny. Do you?” She glances over at the red-haired woman, who shakes her head before averting her eyes.

I peer down at Miss Attitude, my anger flaring, mirroring her own. “I laugh when I’m frightened,” I snap, narrowing my eyes. If this bitch thinks she can intimidate me, she’s got another thing coming! “Not that it’s any of your business.”

She crosses her arms, brown eyes flashing. For a second, I think she may lash out in violence, pent up with impotent rage, seeking to release it on me, but I won’t let her—I’m no one’s victim. We glare at each other until she scoffs and paces back and forth, muttering to herself.

“Does anybody know where the hell we are?” I ask, looking at the other women.

“I... think it’s a spaceship,” the red-haired woman replies with a heavy Scottish accent, stating the obvious.

“Wait. I saw your house!” I exclaim, recalling the news feed from Scotland. “It was all over the internet. That giant alien took out a bunch of cops.”

“It was terrifying...” The Scottish woman’s stare becomes distant, as if reliving the event over again.

“He broke through my bedroom door and shot me...” Her gaze finds mine, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what happened to my ma and da , or my boyfriend Conor! ” She shakes with quiet sobs.

After what he did to those cops, I doubt anything good happened to them.

I approach the weeping redhead, offering her comfort. “I’m sure they’re safe and… stuff. Everything’s going to be okay.” The words sound as empty as my heart.

“Not okay!” The smallest woman exclaims, surprising me. “They going to eat us!” She glares up at me, her eyes red from intense crying, her Japanese accent thick with fear. “ Oni comes, red skin, sharp claws, massive. They eat humans!”

“They’re not going to eat us,” I retort, wondering if a quick death might be preferable to what’s coming. “I don’t think they’d travel to Earth to eat a couple of women.”

Miss Attitude halts to scoff, “ Hola ! We’re four chicas naked in a cell.” She throws her arms wide. “It’s not rocket science.” Her words echo my thoughts, sending the other two women into renewed sobbing.

Somehow, hearing the words spoken makes it worse, cementing it as fact. My pulse quickens at the prospect. Even if being tall and overweight lets me escape the worst of it, I’m still in for a horrific time.

“We need to stick together and come up with a plan,” I blurt out, driven by sudden panic, unable to think of an angle to play.

Miss Attitude nods her head, “ Sí . I work security. Get me a gun and I’ll make the puto pay.” She gestures wildly at the bars, her expression fierce.

I frown at the idea. “Just get a gun from the giant alien monster man, while we’re locked up naked in this cell.” My voice drips with sarcasm as I scan the area for emphasis, noticing to my horror a hole in the ground. “Please, tell me that’s not the toilet!” I exclaim, pointing.

The Japanese woman nods in confirmation, causing me to shudder with revulsion. “Typical. I end up on an alien spaceship that has a medieval toilet.”

Maybe a suicidal gun grab isn’t the worst idea.

“Get used to it, princesa ,” Miss Attitude smirks, noticing my displeasure. “You chica’s want to wait around? You better get used to a lot of things. Real quick.”

“Princess, hardly!” I scoff, although it’s certainly not the worst insult I’ve experienced. “My name’s Alexandra Turner,” I offer, gesturing to myself.

“Princesa Alexandra, got it.” Miss Attitude taunts with a smile. Why do others mock me constantly? Some unknown crime from a past life? “Carmen Jiménez,” she offers, performing a smooth salute of some kind.

“S... Sandra Gregor,” the red-haired Scottish woman stammers, the weakest smile curling her lips. All our eyes shift to the final unnamed woman.

“I?” she questions, still curled up on the floor. “Kazumi Sato, Tokyo, Japan,” she offers, faint as a whisper.

Kazumi’s whisper hangs in the air, amplifying the silence that follows. We’re four women from different corners of the world, thrust together by a cruel twist of fate.

“Is this alien traveling around the world collecting women like Pokémon?” I ask, noticing Carmen scrunching her face.

“ Qué demonios is a PO-KEY-MEN?” she questions, glancing at the other two women who avoid her intense brown eyes.

Embarrassment heats my body as I realize my nerdy hobby, collecting Pokémon cards, is now exposed. And boy, did I spend a lot of money on them.

Great, now I’m pink!

I sigh inwardly. “Nevermind, What I meant was, is this alien kidnapper still out there collecting women?” I posit.

I hope he is. The more women, the less likely I’ll be attacked, and there’s safety in numbers. The thought doesn’t shame me—this is about survival now, my survival.

“No,” Kazumi mutters into her knees, crushing my fleeting hope with the faintest whisper. “I was first. Ship was silent, now it hums.” She holds up a finger, signaling for silence.

Funny she asks for quiet when all she’s done is wail her eyes out.

But Kazumi is right. Amidst the eerie silence, a dim hum echoes through the ship. I can almost feel my bare feet vibrate on the cold metal floor. Fuck, that’s it. We’ll never see Earth again. The thought lands like a brutal body blow, stealing my breath.