Page 23 of For Mercy

He's waiting for something,she realized, her analytical instincts kicking into overdrive.Or someone.

Michelle's gaze darted around the garage, searching for any sign of security or other late-night workers.The emptiness suddenly felt oppressive.

"Look," she said, injecting steel into her voice, "I don't know what you're doing here, but I'm leaving now.Step away from my car."

The man's head lifted slightly, but in the dim light, Michelle couldn't make out his features.His posture remained slouched, almost unnaturally so.Something about the way he held himself set off alarm bells in her mind.

This isn't some drunk who wandered in,she thought.He's too...controlled.Too deliberate.

Michelle's mind raced through scenarios, weighing options.Should she turn and run?Try to bluff her way past him?Call for help?The analytical part of her brain that had served her so well in her career now felt like both a blessing and a curse, presenting her with an overwhelming array of potential outcomes.

Michelle's fingers tightened around the pepper spray in her purse, the cool metal grounding her.Her heart hammered against her ribs, but years of high-pressure meetings had taught her to keep her voice steady.

"Hey!"she called out, infusing her tone with the same authority she used to command boardrooms."Back off."

The command hung in the air, echoing slightly in the cavernous garage.For a moment, Michelle thought the man hadn't heard her.Then, slowly, almost mechanically, he stirred.

His head lifted, and Michelle's breath caught in her throat.Even in the dim lighting, she could see his eyes – unfocused, glassy, as if looking through her rather than at her.A chill ran down her spine.

The man swayed slightly, barely keeping his balance.His movements were sluggish, almost puppet-like.Michelle's grip on the pepper spray tightened.

"I said back off," she repeated, taking a small step to the side."I don't want any trouble."

The man's mouth opened, but no words came out.Instead, a low, guttural sound emerged – not quite a groan, not quite speech.Michelle's skin crawled.

"Look," Michelle said, trying to keep her voice calm despite the growing panic in her chest, "I'm going to call security if you don't move away from my car right now."

She reached for her phone with her free hand, never taking her eyes off the swaying figure.The man's head tilted, as if processing her words through a fog.His unfocused gaze drifted past her, towards the garage entrance.

Michelle's instincts screamed at her to run, but she held her ground.*If I turn my back, I'm vulnerable,* she reasoned.*I need to stay in control of this situation.*

"Last chance," she warned, her finger hovering over the emergency call button."Move, or I'm calling for help."

The man finally seemed to register her words.With agonizing slowness, he shuffled away from her car, his feet dragging as if weighed down by invisible chains.Michelle exhaled, a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Maybe he really is just drunk, she thought, watching him stumble towards a concrete pillar.God, I'm getting paranoid.

Still, the tension in her chest refused to uncoil completely.Michelle kept her eyes on the retreating figure, unwilling to let her guard down just yet.The pepper spray remained clutched in her sweaty palm, a comforting weight.

"Okay," she muttered to herself, fumbling for her keys."Let's get out of here."

Her analytical mind, however, wouldn't let go of the encounter so easily.As she turned back to her car, Michelle's thoughts raced.*His movements were too uncoordinated for just alcohol.Could it be some kind of medical condition?Or--*

The sudden pressure against her face cut off all rational thought.A large hand clamped over her nose and mouth, an iron grip she couldn't shake.Michelle's world narrowed to the overpowering stench of chemicals flooding her senses – sharp, medicinal, with an underlying sweetness that made her stomach lurch.

Panic exploded through her body.Michelle's free hand clawed at her attacker, but her nails met only the slick surface of what felt like rubber gloves.She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled against the cloth pressed to her face.

No, no, no!Her mind raced, searching for options for an escape.The pepper spray – still in her hand, if she could just aim it behind her--

But her limbs felt increasingly heavy, uncooperative.The garage lights blurred, stretching into strange halos.Michelle's last coherent thought before consciousness began to slip away was a realization that chilled her to her core:

Michelle's body thrashed wildly, every fiber of her being screaming to fight.But the more she struggled, the tighter the cloth pressed against her face, suffocating her.Her lungs burned, desperate for clean air.The world around her began to spin, colors blurring into a nauseating kaleidoscope.

"Stop...fighting," a gruff voice hissed in her ear."It'll be over soon."

*No!* Michelle's mind rebelled, even as her body began to betray her.Her legs, once so steady in her power walks to meetings, now felt like jelly.She tried to kick backward, to stomp on her attacker's foot, but her movements were uncoordinated, weak.

"Why..."she managed to gasp out, the word muffled against the chemical-soaked cloth."Who..."

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