trapped

I was walking down a street late at night. The street became an alley and the alley became a narrow lane. A group of young men crowded the lane and I had no way of escaping. The leader of the group cornered me and injected me with something, the needle not shaped like a standard syringe, instead having several points like a spur. He rolled it across the skin of my stomach, the barbs piercing my skin and the poison flooding my system. I was horrified that some unknown substance was in my body. I could feel my stomach and the right side of my face swelling. I tried to walk out of the lane but the group walked with me. I pretended to be at ease with them, even enjoying their company, but I was afraid and repulsed by their closeness and their scent.

Later, I was in my home and the leader of the group was hanging around the windows, looking in. I wanted to be rid of him. Even when he left with the group, I walked into the kitchen and there were his clothes, dirty and rank, lying on the bench. I could smell him.
I went to seek protection. B and her new friend Lan, a Chinese martial artist, decided to eliminate him.

Next, I was part of a family, a man’s daughter, but I was not myself and the man was not my real life father. We, my father, sister and I, were visiting another man whose house was very interesting; many aspects of the house were automated. In the garage was a false floor, suspended about a metre off the ground, made from ropes woven together like a net and stretched tautly across the entire space. The net provided a sturdy platform on which to lie or sit, but not to stand as our feet could slip through the holes. We each sat at different sides of the net, facing each other—my sister and I were against the long side walls of the garage, while the man and my father were against the two end walls that were both open to the outdoors. The two men were talking. Suddenly, the man pressed a button and the net began to rise up toward the ceiling. It moved slowly higher and higher and the men managed to slip off the net and go outside, whilst my sister and I were trapped, pinned against the ceiling. My sister wriggled her way out of the net too. I called out for help, again and again. Finally, they heard me and came back, but in the meantime, I rolled down toward an open-walled end of the room, the space between the net and the ceiling increasing as I neared the opening, and slipped out. I was embarrassed that I had had to ask for help and then not needed it.