Featherlight by Laura Fields Read Free Book Online

takeoff, I couldn’t prove the fact that we
were going to another planet as the truth. We could just be going to another
country for all I know. Besides, this airplane didn’t look like a spaceship,
and I haven’t felt many bumps or sways. Surely if I were actually leaving earth
there would be some turbulence.
    Fact: I had wings on my back. Either they were telling me the truth,
and I had acquired them during my “change”, or they put them on me during surgery.
If they had put them on me by surgery, then it was very expensive. But
that’s irrelevant. I was an unwilling lab rat, and a lot goes wrong with lab
rats. If they are telling the truth, then I was not really human; I was a fol-something.
Of course, the wings came with both of the above, so I might as well just accept
them. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a
duck. Besides, I’ll worry about methods of removal and all of the potential
negative side-effects later.
    I didn’t know that surgery could make my hearing, seeing, and feeling
this good, but if you can put a pair of wings on someone, I guess you could do
all that, too. The surgery line of thinking wasn’t getting me far, so I started
sorting through the pros and cons of my situation.
    Pros: I became beautiful. I know it shouldn’t be a ‘pro’, but it was
definitely a bonus. I had the potential to fly, if my wings truly worked as
they should (This pro I didn’t want to admit but simply couldn’t avoid). I was
also a someone now. Apparently I was important, and that was probably a
‘pro’. I had improved senses. I could see, hear, and feel everything . That
was pretty awesome.
    Cons: I didn’t know where I was going, and that could be very, very,
bad. I was on an airplane about to get drugged and sent to a whorehouse for all
I knew. Maybe these people auctioned off virgin girls, and as a part of some
fantasy for the buyers they sewed on wings and made the girls believe they were
a part of some weird fantasy where they could fly and were really important and
they were drugged and made beautiful while unconscious to be sold for more
money.
    Adrenaline ripped through my body. I jumped up, hyperventilating. Dripping
wet and shaking all over, I tried to calm down. But I couldn’t handle that, I
couldn’t. I couldn’t be auctioned off. I couldn’t be helpless.
    A man’s hand reaches for me. Mom screams. It’s dad’s hand. His voice,
croons, oozes. Fear immobilizes. I know what is coming… what is next… NO!
    I fought my way through the memories, through the helplessness. Not
again, never again. I was okay, I was okay. I would find a way out of this
mess, and I would survive. Sinking back in the tub, I tentatively resumed
thinking of the possibilities.
    Like, maybe they already drugged me, and I was imagining the wings. But
if I had been drugged, I shouldn’t be thinking this clearly, right?
    I know there were at least two men here (one definitely hostile), and
the only thing between them and me was this silver door, which I was assuming
anyone could open. I didn’t really have anything of which to defend myself, so
I looked around the room. The large dresser had potential, so I climbed out of the
bathtub and walked to it, refusing to wait another minute feeling defenseless.
    The first two drawers were empty, but the last drawer contained a comb,
hair pins, and a pair of scissors. Snatching the scissors, I padded back to the
warm bath and climbed inside the welcoming heat. The scissors were cool in my
grip, inviting. No scars remained on my wrists. I chalked it up to surgery. Don’t ,
I willed myself. It had been so long. Four months, to be exact. Okay, so maybe
not that long, but it was still progress. The urge to cut had come out of
nowhere, catching me unaware. Reluctantly setting them down, I sighed in
relief. Battle won, I resumed my thinking once again.
    This whole thing was entirely illegal. I was an American citizen, and
I had rights. After bathing, I