“Is the little princess finally awake?”
The door swings open with a mighty BANG, making me jump where I lie. The slick-haired man stands in the doorway, his grin wicked and devoid of humanity. I feel a deep certainty in this moment that I’m going to die at his hands. He squats on his heels next to the mattress, resting his arms on his knees and lacing his fingers together casually.
“What do you want?” I ask, willing my voice to sound steady.
“Oh, little girl,” he says as he runs the backside of his pointer finger across the cut on my face. I shrink back at his touch.“I want to do so many things to this beautiful body of yours.”
Oh god, no. No. No. This can’t be happening.
“Please, don’t. I beg you, please.”
My first time could NOT be taken away by this heinous thing. Not a man. A thing. I begin to sob so violently that I can no longer see. I can only hear the sound of my own sorrow echoing in my ears, and suddenly, I feel another pinch, thrusting me into darkness once again.
When I come to again, I jolt in a panic. I’m certain that he has taken advantage of me while I was out. But to my relief, I realize that my undergarments are still in place, and I don’t feel any discomfort down there. Tears of relief quietly fall, and I can’t help but think about Callum. We’d almost had our first time together. I feel a surge of regret. I’m going to die in this hellhole without ever having been with the person I love.
I stay quiet this time, trying to listen to anything happening in the house. I can hear multiple pairs of feet shuffling around on the rickety floors outside the closed door. Everyone is speaking Italian, and I make a promise to myself to learn the language if I ever make it out of this place.
It gets quiet all of a sudden, and my stomach drops. I hear them whispering frantically, then the door flies open, and the slick-hairedman is there again. But this time, I see the needle in his hand as he stalks toward me. I begin to shiver in fear as adrenaline courses through my veins. From some deep, ancient place in my brain, a plan of action emerges with a cold, animal cunning. I hold as still as possible as he kneels beside the mattress.
With lightning speed, I slam my foot into his face as hard as I can, and he staggers back, his hand over his mouth.
“You fucking bitch!”
He wipes blood from his now split lip with the back of his hand, and I register that he’s holding a silver pistol. Oh fuck, I think frantically as I start jerking on the ropes around my wrists. I feel the butt of the pistol connect with my left temple, and everything goes black again. But this time, some part of my consciousness remains aware. The darkness is punctuated by random bits of sound, reaching me as if from a great distance, and at some point, I hear gunshots ring out. After that, everything fades.
It is nothing but an obsidian abyss.
My head is spinning. I can’t pick it up.
I have to be hallucinating because this bed feels familiar, and the smell… that smell is one I wish was actually here. But it must be my mind playing tricks on me. It feels like Callum is lying right here, like his arms are wrapped around me. I want to trust this feeling of safety so badly. But it isn’t real. It can’t be. I know that I’m still in that abandoned house, on that stinking mattress, tied to the pipe, sliced and bleeding.
“You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here now. Nothing will ever hurt you again.”
Such a warm, soothing voice.
I don’t open my eyes or attempt to move.
I don’t want to lose this dream.
I don’t want to wake back up in that room, to feel the pain that’s breaking me.
I inhale the serene smell, savoring it. I don’t mean to, but I move.
I feel the mattress dip down.
I feel the emptiness that now lingers.
Lips press against my forehead, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m dead. It felt real, full of care.
I hear a muffled conversation outside the room. As I begin to open my eyes, I realize I’m in my room. I hear Orin and my father speaking to someone, but I can’t tell who. I try to shift myself, and I cry out in pain. Orin bursts into the room and drops to his knees next to the bed. I’m so glad to see him. I begin to sob uncontrollably as he carefully embraces me, trying not to hurt me.
I cry on and off for days. I relive it every time my eyes close. Orin never leaves my side.
“Maeve! Maeve, look at me. Look at me, please.”
Callum is on his knees in front of me, where I had fallen, his hands rubbing up and down my arms.
“You’re safe. I’m right here,” he croons soothingly.
