My punishment.
I had to remind myself that it could be worse. So much worse. I wasn’t sure how much further these men could take punishments, but they never seemed to be at a loss for ideas.
I wasn’t sure what I did this time. I hadn’t talked back; I didn’t fight. Yet, something I had done wasn’tto the man’s liking. This time I only lost the use of my hands. It wasn’t as bad as it could be.
Trying to calm my breathing did nothing to collect my inner thoughts.
I almost hated it more than anything when he left me alone for so long—time passed funny down here. Sometimes, a minute would feel like an hour, and a week could feel like thirty minutes. I hated the dark. I hated the quiet. I hated it all just as much as I loathed the noise and stomping from above. I hated the creak of the middle step, too.
I was not too fond of everything—every piece of my life.
I wished I was never born.
Death would be a mercy now.
I didn’t think there was an inch of skin that wasn’t bruised at one point since I had come to this place.
So lost in thought, I hadn’t heard that one particular step squeak, or maybe the man had missed it on purpose. I yelped as something heavy hit the cage.
The cage wasn’t like a thing you’d put your furry, loveable pet into. Oh no. This one was similar but so much worse. The corners each had a wooden post connected to thick metal bars. On the outside, it had something dark red covering the top, hiding gadgets and tools that had been used on me more than once.
This time, I shivered for an entirely different reason as the items above me rattled.
The man laughed, dark and gritty, as he knelt down to look at me like I was his pet. The one that had misbehaved more than enough times to warrant a long timeout.
I kept my eyes trained to the side, not daring to look at his face. I never wanted to admit that this man was slightly attractive. He had a slight dusting of facial hair, perfectly styled black hair on his head, and the deepest darkest brown pits for eyes.
It was always his eyes that gave everything away. I tried not to look at him if I didn’t have to. I was trained never to look at anyone in their face, but this one loved to make me. And then he’d punish me when my brain couldn’t keep eye contact.
“It’s your lucky day, pet.” He ran a finger over one of the bars in my line of sight. The same finger I may have bitten into the first time he tried to put it near my mouth.
My lips twitched with the memory of how I hadn’t given up as fast as he expected. It wasn’t the first time I had bit him.
After another moment, the man stood and walked to the end of the cage, where the one and only door was. I assumed that the top came off because somehow I had ended up in this thing at the start of all of this. I was dead to the world, passed out by some sleeping pills, then woke up inside of this thing naked as the day I was born.
After the door was opened, the man pulled a pocket knife from his pocket, cutting the rope that held my arms to my legs. Then, slowly as he stood, I crawled out backward.
My joints protested at the movement, but thankfully the man was in a good mood as he didn’t pull me along. He waited, tapping the toe of his black shoe against the stained cement.
Once I was all the way out, he grabbed ahold of my arm, pulling me to stand. A wave of dizziness caused black spots to appear and nausea to wake within me.
He didn’t speak as he dragged me to the bathroom and non-to-gently shoved me into the shower area. There was only an old plastic rug that laid over the drain and a makeshift shower curtain that was filled with mold. Then, the showerhead that came off the wall. Sometimes, there was shampoo, but most of the time, there was nothing but water.
A few feet away was a metal toilet, just like what you’d find in a jail cell, bolted to the wall. Someone always came when it smelt bad to clean it. Sometimes, I was the one forced to clean it while under the watchful gaze of a guard.
Trying to breathe the best I could, I waited for the cold blast of water to start. I tried not to hold my body stiff, knowing with experience that the looser I stood, the less the impact was against my skin.
Nothing happened.
Was this another test that I’d no doubt fail? Was this man just playing tricks, seeing how far gone I really was?
I braved to look up, only to the man’s chin, waiting. Whatever he planned would happen on his terms. Only on his. Not mine, ever.
Finally, after what felt like hours standing under the man’s eyes, that one stair creaked, echoing against the mostly cement walls.
The man’s lips twitched into something sinister, and my eyes fell before he folded his arms over his chest. He waited, just as I was, for whoever it was to join us in the bathroom.
Two men down here was never good for me.
