Violations

Several years ago, I had just awoken in my bed to get ready for school. I usually kept the radio on when I went to bed, and I heard the radio announcer mention that it was 5:30 in the morning. Being the intelligent young man that I was, I closed my eyes and tried to eek in that extra thirty minutes of sleep. That's when it happened.

I could feel this oppressive force holding me down, causing my teeth to grit and I could feel this bright light over me. It wasn't hot or cold, just there. And all this time, I kept my eyes shut. I knew the stories. I knew the witness accounts of alien abductees. I did not wish for these human eyes to look into the cold black depths of an alien's eyes.

I lay there for what seemed like an eternity, not once daring to open my eyes and see my assailants. Then, one of the most fearful things happened to me: they touched my arm.

Like little hands with three or four digits, one bigger than the others and having a long fingernail. I could feel it scratching against my skin. I knew what they were going to do. I didn't want it to happen to me. That's when I got pissed. How dare they come into my domain, my home, and try to do experiments on me? I'm Quintin Scott, dammit! No one makes me do anything that I don't want to. No one holds me against my will! No one has that right!

By that time, I relaxed my body to lure them into a false sense of security. Summoning every ounce of strength in my body, I bolted upright against the field, swinging my arms, determining to take one out with a good right hook. And when I opened my eyes and looked about the room, nothing had changed. Nothing was in the room with me.