1984: Winston's Harem

Katherine

Winston has been acting a little off lately. In wasn't anything conspicuous or attention-catching. In fact, Katherine was sure that not even their telescreens would pick up anything different (as long as the Thought Police couldn't actually read minds, that is). Katherine, though, has always prided herself on knowing Winston better than anybody else. She knew all his little habits, ticks, things that he thought nobody noticed, and she's noticed that, recently—aside from the general sense of elevated caution—Winston has been particularly meticulous about all his routine gestures. His gait, his words, his everything really, just felt a bit more "orthodox" than usual. It almost felt like he was consciously making sure that it was impossible to find any trace of abnormality in his actions.

Winston downed a mouthful of Victory Gin next to their dining table, screwing the lid back on with precisely two turns of his wrist (as he usually did). He took out his packet of Victory Cigarettes, opening it and taking out a small stick of tobacco before stuffing it back into his jacket pocket. Katherine paused in her cooking. Usually, Winston would dust the packet off subconsciously before putting it back. He didn't seem to remember that step today, with how concentrated he was on performing the others.

Katherine decided to keep observing. These small differences—things like how he put on his shoes, how he didn't fidget with his hands—accumulated enough to arouse concern in Katherine over some time. 

One day about a week after she started noticing these things, Winston made up some excuse after work, telling Katherine to go home on her own. He went off with Syme, who seemed happy to have him, to help with the fixing of something or other in the Newspeak enthusiast's flat. Katherine waited for him to almost disappear around the first corner before beginning to follow. Winston walked with an animated Syme, who didn't live to far from them. Winston followed him into his apartment, getting out alone after ten or so minutes. He looked around and proceeded to go back to the front of the Ministry of Truth. Shaking off any acquaintance who wanted to speak with him, Winston took off in a direction that was decidedly not towards their home with Katherine trailing in the shadows. 

Katherine took note of the surroundings as they walked. The buildings became increasingly dilapidated with each turn Winston took. Soon, they had foraged quite deep into the proletarian districts. Katherine received some odd looks here and there, but most proles knew not to bother with her. After a half-hour walk or so, Katherine saw Winston stop in front of a building. The building was dark, unwashed gray, with boarded-up windows and stone brick walls. It radiated a sense of...Well, nothing. If Winston had not stopped in front of it, Katherine doubted she would have noticed such a building at all. It was so inconspicuous, in fact, that Katherine was sure she would forget what it looked like as soon as she closed her eyes. It would be impossible to find if you weren't specifically looking for it. Now that she was looking at it however, Katherine couldn't help but notice a large stone at the base of the building, below one of the windows. It faded into the background, as most stones would, but for some reason or other, Katherine felt as if she had never before seen a stone so closely resembling a stone as this one. An aura of stagnation permeated through the air when she walked a bit closer. 

Winston hesitated for a couple of seconds before walking up the crumbling stone steps and knocking. Katherine startled when somebody she couldn't see opened the door. The next thing she knew, Winston was gone.

Creasing her nose, Katherine decided to leave. She was sure Winston could handle whatever it was himself, and if he couldn't, there wouldn't be much she could do either. She did not want to confront Winston about this yet. Katherine quashes down the worry she felt. How had Winston learnt about this place? Was there anyone he was seeing? Katherine hoped he knew enough at least to guarantee his safety.

Keeping her head down, Katherine turned and started making her way back on the path she remembers. She took a deep breath, counting her steps. Katherine rounds a corner onto a relatively empty street. The sun has begun setting by now. Katherine quickens her steps.

A hand grabs her hair and yanks her down as somebody aims a kick at the backs of her legs. Katherine yells, landing on her hands and knees. Before she could react, her wrists were expertly tied behind her back her back, her mouth was stuck with a ball of cloth, and a soft, delicate hand was covering her eyes, another pulling her by the hair into what she assumes to be the alley she just passed. 

Katherine struggles fruitlessly, gagging on the cloth. A familiar voice sounds close to her ear. 

"Go to sleep, Katherine." A giggle. The breath tickles Katherine's nape, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. Something visceral tells her to run, to get as far away as possible from the thing that was holding her hair in that moment. 

Before she can heed its warning, Katherine feels consciousness slip out of her grasp.