Sunday, 3:52pm.

The first phone call was picked up after the third ring.

"Hello," said the person who answered it, with that tone of distraction and indifference that comes from spending too much time on the phone.

"HELP!!" shouted the patient. "HELP ME! ARE YOU THERE?? OH, SHIT, CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME??!!" she continued, sobbing a little as she rushed out each panicked syllable. "PLEASE!! FUCK, PLEASE SOMEBODY, HELP ME!!!"

"Okay, okay! Listen!" replied the voice, finally managing to interrupt. "I'll help you! I'll ... try to help you but you have to slow down and expl--"

"[Wait!!]," the patient replied in a forced whisper. "[Shit. I think someone's coming... ]" She paused as though listening for something but her shuddering breaths were still audible over the phone. "[SHIT!!]" she whisper-shouted again.

The voice paused and waited for more, but only a second later the line went dead.

Sunday, 4:08pm.

The second call, from the same number, was picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" said the voice with a hint of urgency.

"Hello?" the patient whispered back. "Hello? Uh, hi, can you hear me? Who is this?" she continued, before the voice could answer the first question.

The voice paused a beat before responding. "Who's this? Look, you called me, sister. So you first: who's this?"

The patient paused. "Well, this is... ," she paused again. "Well, it's me. From before. I'm ... I'm in a room."

"Oh, 'from before, '" replied the voice flatly. "But no name. So you're in--"

"A room," confirmed the patient. "I'm ... in this room, and I'm..." Her tone sounded like she should have had more to say but no words followed.

Now the voice paused again. And then replied with sarcasm, "Yeah, I get that you're in a room. So am I, so is anyone who isn't ... sitting out under some, fucking, tree somewhere ... Look, who is this, really? Is this Debbie?" She chuckled and continued with a laugh, "Bitch, if you're fucking with me ag--"

The patient interrupted, her whispered voice rising in urgency "No, I'm not ... I need help. I need you to help me. I... ," the patient paused again, searching for words. "I'm in this room."

"Right, the room, got it," said the voice, losing patience. "Look, Debbie, or whoever you are, I have no idea why you think this kind of pain-in-the-ass is funny, okay? So I'm hanging up now. Goodb--"

"But I'm [naked]!" blurted the patient.

"You're ... what??" replied the voice, with at least a little incredulity.

"Naked," replied the patient. "Pretty much. I mean, I've got like a hospital gown on but nothing at all underneath. Look, the point is that I just woke up like a half hour ago in some fucked up white room, with no windows, and just a door with a slot in it. And I found my clothes and my phone just sitting over there on a chair next to the--. Wait." She paused again. "Actually, I'm not sure these are my clothes. And... , maybe this isn't my..."

"What?"

"Well, there's this ... pile of clothes on a chair, and I thought they were mine but ... there's no way I could ... I mean, there's just no way."

Silence.

"Hello?" This time it was the voice, wondering where her mystery caller went. "Are you still there?"

"Uh yeah," said the patient. "Sorry - uh, sorry, look, uh ... I gotta go. Sorry. Bye."

[click]

Sunday, 9:11pm.

"Hello?" said the voice.

"Hi," said the patient softly, "it's, well ... it's me. Again. From before?"

After a pause, the voice simply said, "O-kay."

After which the caller didn't respond.

So the voice continued, "Well look, I talked to Debbie earlier this evening and got convinced enough that this isn't one of her stupid practical jokes, but that means I'm kind of at a loss here. It's not that I don't want to help you, nameless one, if you really do need help, but I don't even know where to start. You've hung up on me twice now, remember?"

"No, I know," replied the patient. "I'm trying to figure out how to explain why I'm calling you, but it's just ... complicated."

"Well, what the fuck," said the voice, "I'll play along. Complicated how?"

"Complicated like, there are things I think I remember, like I said earlier about the clothes? How I could swear they're mine? But those things like that ... well, they make no sense. Especially considering things that now I know that I know."

"So wait," replied the voice, trying to keep up, "there are things you're sure you know now, that don't jibe with things you think you remember?"

"Yes."

"Well, whatever, I guess. I suppose that does sound kinda puzzling. Like what?"

"Well. Like..."

Pause.

The patient lowered her voice again to a whisper. "Like, [my breasts]," she said.

"Your b-breasts??" stammered the voice.

"Yes, it's weird, I know, but the thing is ... So there's these clothes, on that chair, right? Like I mentioned? Well, I could have sworn they're mine, I mean, I even specifically remember wearing them, I think I even remember buying them, but ... Well, they're way too small. Especially, you know, up top."

"Too small?" asked the voice.

"Yes, I mean, I checked the bra, and it's a 32B."

After a short pause the voice asked, "Okay. And so I take it..."

"Yeah, I mean ... well, there's no way. It wouldn't even come close."

"You mean, your ... well, your boobs are..."

"Huge," said the patient. "I mean, huge, definitely way bigger than ... like at least a double-D or something. In fact, I think that could be why I'm topless, I mean, there is literally no way these would fit in those clothes."

"Wow. Okay. Fair enough, I guess," replied the voice.

"And they're also just really... {sensitive}," explained the patient, whispering the last word like it was a scandal.

"Sensitive? Like, sore?"

"Well, yeah, kinda. But also like ... you know, {sensitive}." She paused again, and then whispered, "{And not just my breasts, I mean, it's my whole body, }" she added, dropping off into a sigh. "{Everything I touch ... just feels soooo gooood, but [gasp] pinching my nipples just makes me, like--}"

Pause.

"Um, hello?" asked the voice.

Deep, soft moans then filled the line for several long moments before it eventually went dead.

Monday 10:14am

"So, here's the thing," the patient began, after clearing her throat. "So I found this phone with the clothes, in the pocket of the skirt, right? And same thing: I really could have sworn it was mine, it even has the exact same case around it that I know mine had, but it doesn't have any of my contacts in it. In fact," she added, "it's only got one phone number in it."

"This one," said the voice.

"Bingo," said the patient. "But that can't be right. I know I had, like, hundreds of phone numbers programmed in here, and now the only one is a number I don't even recognize? And I can't even remember any other numbers at all, not even my own. It just makes no sense. Hey, tell me something: what number comes up on the caller id screen when I call you?"

"There isn't a number. It just says 'unavailable, '" said the voice. "What description is listed on that contact?" she asked.

"Nothing," replied the patient. "There's no name or anything on the list, just this number listed under 'mobile.' But it doesn't say anything at all about whose mobile."

"Hunh. Damn," said the voice.

"Yeah, exactly. Damn. Plus the guards, or nurses, or whatever they are just come and go without ever even talking to me - did I mention that?"

"No, wait, who comes and goes?"

"I don't know - sorry, I get really foggy about which parts of this I've already told you about and which ones I haven't."

"Well, you said someone was coming once - first time you called me, in fact, but you never explained who it was. So who are these people? Are they guards or nurses? Or some of each?"

"Well, no, they're all basically the same, but I really don't know who they are. They come in from time to time and, like, pinch and prod my titti-- I mean, uh, my breasts, and then they prick one of my fingers and dab the blood against this little electronic thingy. Then they usually give me a couple shots, sometimes five or six, actually, and they leave. I guess they act more like nurses than guards but those masks are just so scary-looking that I figu--"

"Wait - the what? The masks?"

"Yeah, they wear, like scuba masks or gas masks or something. Their uniforms are all black latex, and everything from the neck down is skin-tight, but the headgear is really kinda wild. And there's definitely some Darth Vader-lookin' mouthpiece in there that they're breathing through. That's kind of a fucked up thing for a nurse to wear, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Are you sure they only breathe through the--"

"Oh, and one of them left a clipboard here last time, did I mention that yet?"

"No, what? Really? A clipboard?"

"Yeah. Like with all this paperwork on it, but it's in some foreign language. It's not English, but I can read the letters. Most of them, at least. Looks like Polish or something. But I can read the numbers on it, it looks like they're tracking some kind of--"

"Weird," said the voice firmly. "Whatever, I dunno - look, I wouldn't even bother with it. So wait, back up, so you found this phone the other day and just called some number you didn't even recognize? Why would you do that?"

"Well, I was in a panic, remember? I mean, I'm calmer now, but that first time I called you I was really freaking out. And what about you: if you just got some random call from an unlisted number when I called you earlier, why'd you pick up?" asked the patient, looking for any flash of insight.

"Dunno, really," said the voice. "Bored on a Sunday afternoon, I guess. But honestly, look: these are fun conversations and all, definitely livening up a couple dull days, but you're right that none of it makes any sense. In fact, I still can't help but think you're just someone else bored with the same-old same-old, making prank phone calls about padded white rooms just to fuck with people. I mean, think about it: for someone who claims to have just woken up one day trapped naked in a windowless room, like you just said: you sure don't seem very upset about it."

"No," replied the patient. "You know, you're right, I'm not - not anymore. I know I was earlier, but now that you mention it it's more like just ... curious. But that's another thing that I think I remember: the more I think about it, the more I kind of feel like I'm actually supposed to be here."

"Really?" asked the voice.

"Yeah, I can't say why, or how, but now that I've had a chance to calm down a little it's not like I feel like I have to escape or 'get out of here' any more, you know? It's more that I'm just ... confused. Like there's something I'm supposed to do. And I want to just ... do that, you know, just ... do whatever I'm supposed to do.

"But I just can't figure out what that is," continued the patient. "Hey, do you ... know what I'm supposed to do?"

"What? No, how the f-- No. Look, from what you've told me, you could be anywhere. It sounds like a mental ward, frankly, so maybe you do belong there. You act like you don't even know your own name, or how you got to ... wherever you are, so maybe you are there for your own good and you just don't know it."

"Yeah, could be I guess. One way or the other I actually don't feel much like doing anything about it. It definitely helps to talk to you, frankly, but I'm also just really..." the patient's voice drifted off into something of a sigh.

Pause.

"Really what?" asked the voice.

"No, I don't want to say..."

"Why not? As if there's any way I could even know--"

"Really horny," confessed the patient. "I mean every inch of my ... body just ... tingles. And my nipples, I mean, you wouldn't even believe it. It's like having three clits!" She giggled a little and then cleared her throat, with a bit of shame.

Then a three-tone chime went off, not unlike a subway or train door warning, followed quickly by the patient, explaining "Oh, that means it's ... uh, sorry. I'm ... I'm gonna go again. Sorry if I've bothered you, okay? Sorry. Bye."

"Nono," said the voice quickly, with a bit of her own emphasis. "Definitely very weird, but no bo-- [click]."

She stopped speaking as the line went dead in her ear.

Tuesday, 9:44pm

"Hello?" said the voice, with just a bit of eagerness.

"Hi there," said the patient happily. "How you doing?"

"How'm I doing?" asked the voice. "Good enough I guess. You definitely sound better. So, what, are we buddies now?"

"Well, kind of, at least as far as I'm concerned. In fact, you're the only person I actually talk to, so I wanted to call you back and--"

"Wait, what was that?"

"What was what?"

"You just said ... You really haven't actually talked to anyone but me since... ?" asked the voice.

"Well, no," replied the patient. "Do you think I'm supposed to talk to someone else?" she asked.

"What? I don't know, how should I know? But that was, what, Sunday?!? You mean ... you seriously haven't talked to anyone else in the last two days?"

"Well ... No. I didn't know I was supposed to. I really don't even see anyone else, actually, except when the guards bring me food, or come in and hose me off."

"WHAT??"

"Well, I get hungry. Every time I wake up, that is, I feel pretty hungry. And I must get pretty ripe after a while, too. There's a toilet over in the corner I can go use, you know, whenever I need to, but no sink or shower or anything.

"No, not that, I meant the other thing. You said they hose you off??"

"Well, yeah," she continued, lowering her voice to a whisper. "It's like I said: I'm horny - I mean really horny - like, all the time. And so pretty much ever since the last time we spoke, I guess whenever I haven't been sleeping or eating, I've been, you know, either playing with myself or using the machine. I guess after a while it really must start to reek in here a little."

"What the fu-- You mean, you've been... ," now it was the voice's turn to whisper, "{fucking yourself} for the last two days???"

"Well..." said the patient. "I guess so. I guess that does seem like kind of a long time, right? It's just that there's no days or nights in here, so basically I just nod off and then later I wake up. I guess I didn't realize exactly how long I've--"

"So you don't even know whether it's day or night?" asked the voice, "seriously?"

"Well, yes," replied the patient, "I guess it must not matter. I don't remember ever seeing the lights go off, but I don't really notice, to be honest. Every so often the guards bring in a new bowl of this granola-looking stuff to eat. I guess they hose me off every third time or so. They shaved most of my hair off last time. Or, actually ... Maybe two or three times ago, I think..."

"Fuck," said the voice. "I mean, you know, FUCK. That is really, really fucked up."

Silence.