Inside, I locked the door and turned on the vent so I felt as if I truly had a semblance of privacy. The tears were already choking me, so I hurried to the shower and allowed the steaming hot water to wet every part of my body. With my forehead against the tile, I finally released my sobs. I choked on the pain. I hated him so much but not nearly enough, so all that hate boomeranged right back to me. I wanted to be home so badly.
The fact that this had been happening to other girls all my life, other ten-year-olds, and they’d gotten it worse than me.
And now a little girl died for me to exist.
I was so fucking spoiled and privileged. As bad as today was, I couldn’t imagine being paddled more than a thousand times—that’s what it was supposed to be—and then raped by more than a hundred men? How could anyone live through that? How many innocent girls had died from this?
Some of the girls in the audience were prepubescent, for Christ’s sake.
I collapsed in the tub which was almost overflowing with water.I just want my family. I just want to be home. I didn’t even want to know that things like this were being done at all. How could people be so cruel?
My humanity meant nothing. He was quickly demolishing all that was me so I could be another empty shell for him to display, and I had no choice; there was no way out.
After some time of allowing the steaming water to burn my open cuts, I could no longer stand it and stood. A psychotic desperation to clean my body of his touch and everything he’d done to me possessed me. I inserted soapy fingers into my disgusting pussy, needing to clean him out of me, then rinsed it out. I scrubbed the rest of my skin roughly with soap twice but avoided my butt. The soap accidentally trailed to my wounds. I hissed at the acidic sting. It hurt so much I bit down on my lip in an attempt to contain the scream but failed.
As I rinsed for the third time, I still smelled like him, like cum, like all those men. They all laughed at me for thinking I could wash them away. I needed to wash with something stronger, to clean the shame away. I was so pathetic with my hallucination of hidden love, pretending he could care when he didn’t care at all while slowly becoming his willing whore.It’s okay, I just need to wash one more time. Just one more time and he’ll be off me. They all will.
I could still smell him, so I started again. I couldn’t give up.
While leaning my forehead against the wall, I wailed and slapped at the tiles as the new layer of soap sat on my skin until I couldn’t tell what hurt more—my fingers, the bruises, my heart, or my quickly devolving mind. He was right. I orgasmed from being raped by the very man who allowed all those people to paddle my naked ass seconds before. It had been euphoric to feel his dick in me again after all that. I didn’t just come, I squirted, in front of all those people who’d just used me for their amusement and pleasure.
Sick. I was sick.
Two days with the devil in this hell hole had me forgetting what really mattered. I didn’t need anything from him. What I really missed, needed, was to be home with my family—and my Killian.
Killiiiiiiiiiiiiannnnnnnnnn!
God, it hurt so much. It was all I could feel, the loneliness he’d left behind. Allowing myself to miss Killian again was like adding hypochloride to an open cut. It was like watching a movie full of our beautiful moments on a big screen, the way he would smile at me, and his freckles. It all swept through my memory. He never failed to make me giggle, was so gentle, so respectful with me, never an unkind word. I wasn’t his bitch to command; I was his queen. Missing him ripped my heart apart until I couldn’t breathe.
That was where the real pain was: in my good memories with Killian, the only man who would’ve never treated me wrong. The loss was raw again and stabbed me over and over.
Is someone hurting you, angel?
No.
Good. But if someone ever does, you just let me know, okay? That’s what real friends do.
“Someone’s hurting me, Killian. Where are you? Where? Save me please,” I whispered, weeping.
I didn’t notice the steam had fogged the room or that my heart rate had slowed. In my dizziness, I felt closer to that day, to my Killian. “Magdalena. What’s the matter?” I turned around to see him, my Killian, and smiled.“You’ve been in here for an hour. What’s that smell?”
“Jesus fucking Christ! What did you do? Magdalena, what the fuck?” he yelled. I didn’t have a chance to answer him because the world swerved. I felt the fall as he hurried toward me with his arms open.Killian would save me. He’d get me out of here.“Chlorox, Magdalena? Seriously? Fuuckk! Did you drink it? Tell me.” He slapped me, waking me a little. “Did you drink it?”
“Don’t leave me here, Killian. H-he… hurt me. Please. I can’t take it anymore. Please… t-t-take… me with you. Take me with you.”
27. Just a Dream
“Okay, one more time,” the doctor said before pumping everything from my stomach. I gripped the sheets on the bed and squeezed my eyes tight, waiting for him to stop. My stomach was empty, so it felt like he was trying to suck out my soul.
“I don’t even understand. How did a bottle of bleach get left in this room?” Sir asked two strangers, guards, from the bedroom doorway. He was very angry because apparently, when the soap didn’t work on my skin, I grabbed the bleach. My body was covered in red blotches and scratches. He’d thought I had swallowed some of the bleach, but I’d only used it to clean myself a little. I could still smell him on me though. Maybe he’ll let me shower again later.
“Lord Bering tends to use this apartment often. We’ll talk to the cleaning staff and see if there’s a connection. Maybe his slave… did something.”
“Or maybe the cleaning staff just forgot it,” the other guard offered.
The doctor pulled out the tube, nodded once at me, and then walked away with all his tools. “Sir, I believe she’s telling the truth. I only see bile. She should be fine.” They all crowded thedoorway. I crawled to the other side of the bed, closer to the window, and stared out while listening, covered with a blanket. It felt so good to be on a comfortable bed.
“Okay, Doctor Miller. Thanks for the precaution.”
