Under The Covers

There she was. Under the covers. And she couldn't move. Her duvet had locked her in. Her pillows kept her head on them with almost magnetic force. She'd been lying there for hours and her roomies were not going to come home for a couple of days. She was hungry and tired from fighting her bed for several hours. She started crying. It seemed hopeless. She was gonna pass out from exhaustion if she kept the fighting up. She had no idea what had happened. She simply woke up and couldn't move like her bed was possessed by an evil spirit that wanted her to stay there. She was definitely going to lose her job, because she couldn't reach her phone on the night stand and call her boss. Or call for help for that matter. Who would believe her anyway? "My bed won't let me leave?" That was the lamest excuse ever. She felt her mouth getting dry and knew she would be aching for water soon. It all seemed so hopeless. She was probably going to pass out from thirst and hunger eventually. Her roomies would come home, but what if they couldn't do anything? Would she die this way? Somehow killed by her own bed? Was this it?