With a groan, Lisa stirred, groggily opening her eyes. Her head pounded, and she flinched at the pang of pain the light sent through her, shielding her eyes from its glare. The last thing she could remember was a long night of drinking with the girls, and snippets of stumbling in the vague direction of home. And then, nothing.
Squinting, she looked around, taking in the unfamiliar sights. She was in someone's bedroom, the walls decorated in anime posters. Dozens of anime figurines lined the cheap particle board shelves bolted into the walls, and she could swear that a jar full of… something white sat on one of them. Lisa wisely chose not to contemplate that particular item. The new and strange surroundings sent a pang of disoriented distress through her, and she sat up, fumbling with the sheets to pull them aside.
Drawn by the noise, someone walked into the bedroom. "Oh, good, you're awake!" a man said, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He was short and lanky, with a pale complexion that betrayed how rarely he ever went outside.
"W-where am I, why am I here?" Lisa asked, looking about in confusion.
The stranger smiled, cheerily responding, "I saw you passed out drunk on a park bench, so I brought you here to my house to make sure you were okay! After all, you wouldn't want someone creepy to happen upon you!" The words were spoken without a trace of self-awareness to their delivery, as if the man simply couldn't conceptualize why anyone would object to a complete stranger bringing unconscious people to his house.
Lisa blanched at this, covering herself more fully in the bedsheets as if this might shield her from the stranger's gaze. "I—I want to go home," she stammered, making to get up. The sheer tube top and panties she'd been wearing since last night had ridden down in her sleep, and she tugged them up, looking around for her heels. Her barely-there outfit back in order, she stood, eager to get away from the stranger.
As if clueless about Lisa's discomfort, the stranger continued talking. "You don't have to tell me what happened, but you do have to eat this." With those words, he reached over to a nearby table, holding a bowl full of boiled eggs in front of Lisa.
Bewildered, Lisa stared at the boiled eggs, then at the man. Her brows furrowed in distress. The milky whiteness of the hard-boiled eggs seemed to taunt her, infinite in its promise of nourishment. Lisa wanted nothing more than to leave, and yet, there was no escape.
"But—but I don't want to eat the eggs," Lisa whimpered, lip quivering. Why was this strange man doing this? What kind of person brought unconscious women to his house to feed them eggs the morning after?
The man held out the bowl still, his gaze resolutely fixed on the confused young woman before him. "You have to eat all the eggs." The stranger's tone was firm, brooking no argument. His single-minded insistence on Lisa eating the eggs was unshakable, and Lisa felt her resolve crumbling under its weight. To leave, Lisa would have to eat all the eggs.
"Why are you doing this...?" Lisa asked as she stared up at him. Confused, frightened tears began to run down her cheeks, leaving dark trails of runny mascara. The man remained impassive before her protests, expectantly offering her the bowl of boiled eggs once again. As Lisa stared at them, the tears flowed more freely, and she felt a sob building in her throat. She took a step forward, reaching out to take the bowl from him.
The bowl full of boiled eggs in her hands was like a physical manifestation of her despair and hopelessness. A dozen boiled eggs lay nestled in the bowl's plastic confines, the egg white well-cooked, with a light sprinkling of salt dusting the soft surface. Tearfully, Lisa picked up the first of many boiled eggs, holding the warm hard-boiled egg between her thumb and forefinger, before taking a bite.