The Quantum Objective by F. Habib

stared at the pale yellow ceiling for a full minute before realising she wasn’t at home. The dart and Galen’s disappearance rushed back so fast, she shot to her feet and gagged, only just making it to the en suite before emptying her stomach. She lay on the cool tiles till equilibrium returned.
The luxurious bathroom stated this was no ordinary cage. She clambered to her feet, wiping beads of cold sweat from her upper lip and forehead. She stumbled back into the bedroom and banged on the glossy wooden door. It was locked from the outside and may as well have been steel. There were no windows, only a skylight sealed with thick glass. Queasy, she slumped in a soft armchair and took in her prison.
This was how she imagined a five-star hotel might look. Never having been in one, she was unsure if they came with silk-covered furniture. The walls were papered in silk too.
She’d never paid the least attention to wallpaper, but its beauty was impossible to ignore, even while her entirety was screaming for her baby. She crawled on her hands and knees to touch it with her fingers. It seemed to be padded and depicted thousands of exquisite butterflies and flowers scattered by a strong wind. It shimmered and glowed with golden yellow tones and she thought it might burst into life at any moment. It was work of immense talent.
Ok calm down, it’s just wallpaper, Irving. Don’t lose your head. She drew herself away to find clues about where she was, or who her wealthy captors might be. A fridge was stocked with every kind of drink and another full of freshly cut fruit and chocolates.
Is this supposed to impress me, or do they just live like this? She opened a door to a small second room, which held a deep closet neatly stocked with clothing. She closed the door, then, after a pause reopened it. With trepidation she reached out for a garment, checked the label and with shaky fingers checked the next, then the next. She ripped open the shoe bags that lined one wall. After the fifth, she stopped and dropped to the floor when her legs gave out.
Every piece of clothing was her size. This room had been carefully prepared for her and it looked like they were expecting her to stay for some time.
Her heart raced like it would burst from her chest, she couldn’t breathe and thought for a moment she’d been poisoned. Why would they buy clothes for me and then kill me? That makes no sense. Irving, think!
Then she remembered a leaflet she’d read in a doctor’s waiting room when she was six. Panic and its symptoms . She saw it as though it were in her hands now.
Panic? This is no time to panic. Get a grip for God’s sake. The instructions had said to limit oxygen intake - paper bag. She pulled one of the empty shoe bags to her mouth and breathed slowly into it. Ten minutes later she heaved her body off the floor and headed for the bathroom. She had a warm shower before pulling on clean clothes, sat with a small bowl of fruit and took some honeyed water from the fridge.
I may not know who they are, but I’ll be ready for these bastards when they come.
When she finished, there was nothing left to do but think of Galen. Panic clutched at her again and she reached for a bag before lying on the bed.
They must be treating him well. Look at my room; they surely wouldn’t give him less? I wonder if he’s nearby, he might hear if I call. Bad idea. He’d probably panic, thinking I was trapped. I’ll have to wait.
A sharp rap at the door startled her. She grabbed the knife from the fruit bowl, slipped it underneath her and sat back carefully on the bed. After a second knock, she realised she ought to respond.
‘Yes, come in,’ she injected as much authority as she could into her voice. A small, sharply dressed man entered. He stood for a long moment, taking in her clothes and the empty fruit bowl. She sensed he missed little.
‘Good afternoon, Elizabeth. I’m sorry to meet you under such difficult circumstances. My name is