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necessary.
    “Aren’t you happy here?” I asked. “I give you everything.”
    “No you don’t. You don’t give me freedom. I’m locked in this torture chamber like something out of a Jack Ketchum novel, with my dick trussed up like a turkey if you dare let me accompany you somewhere.”
    “It’s not like that at all, Scott. You’re just tired and overreacting.”
    “You kept me in chains like a monster. I’m just a writer. What do you want with me?”
    “I think you have an overactive imagination. I’m enjoying you as my houseguest. Don’t I give you everything you desire?”
    “I desire to go home. I have a deadline.”
    “You’ve been writing. I’ve seen you.”
    “But I need my notes and the other work I’ve written. I don’t want to write from scratch the bits I’ve already completed. And I only have a few months left to hit my deadline.”
    “What notes do you need? Don’t you have them with you?”
    “I…”
    “Don’t lie to me, Scott. I can tell when you’re lying.” I was brave to speak to him like that. Certainly I could surmise by his body language, but in the darkness the other cues were not as obvious as they are in the daylight.
    He stood, wavering, his shadow already resigned to his fate. I slipped on my bracelet that controlled the implants just in case I needed to use it. With my back to him, I eked open the nightstand table so that my weapons were ready.
    “Okay, you’re right. I brought my flash drive of notes with me.”
    “See? I knew you were too clever to travel without all you need.”
    I grinned in the darkness. I relaxed my stance and sat down on the bed. I patted it.
    “Let’s not fight, Scott. I didn’t bring you here to fight with me.”
    As he approached me, his eyes caught the glint of distant light and their sparkle caught me off guard. A flash of blue in the darkness was startling. He sat beside me and I reached for him. We kissed and though I wanted to melt into his arms, my senses were on high alert.
    His kisses grew rough and he wrestled me onto my back. His hands slipped around my neck, attempting to press his thumbs against my windpipe.
    I made a note in my head to adjust the frequencies to reflect his genetic anger issues so that he couldn’t be violent with his outbursts anymore.
    Again those gym kickboxing classes paid off as I snapped his arms from me with my hands and kicked him away with my feet. Springing from the bed, he followed, his breath loud with the chase. I circled the room, him jumping from bed to chair to stalk me. I backed against my nightstand, my fingers slipping inside to grab one of the glass tubes. As he lunged towards me, I stuck the hypodermic needle into his chest. He flailed with me for a second or two, growing weaker as the drug ran through him.
    “Bitch…” he spat as he collapsed onto the floor.
    As I dragged him back to the lab, wrapping him in a blanket and padding his head with a pillow so as not to damage his beautiful brain, I mused over the fact that he came to kill me, instead of just escaping when I wasn’t looking. Certainly, he could escape if he truly wanted to. There must be something I’d forgotten to close or lock in my fortress—there’s always a fatal flaw. Especially in the daytime, when I often left the house without him. I found it most curious and wondered if it might be because the implant was working in the sense that he had desire for me, but it was a desire to kill me, not to copulate with me. I have to examine my notes and calculations before I can make the adjustments.
     
     
    Journal
    The overall process is going quite well. Preparations are constant as circumstances mutate.
    I had to restrain Specimen 1 for another week. Completely under, with only his headset to listen to. No writing for him. He’ll be starving for his muse and for sex when he finally wakens. And hopefully, by then, I’ll have finished working the bugs out of the levels.
     
     
    Specimen 1
    At last, Specimen 1 is