My head throbs.
Broken brain cells flutter around like confetti as I shift from side to side. Something gurgles, and I think it might be me.
Memories are a funny thing. The way they play tricks on you.
I smell pine.
Logic tells me I’m indoors. Tied to a chair. The binds on my wrists and ankles are tangible, and yet my mind has transported me somewhere else.
Gravel digs into my back. Sticks and dirt and cold are upon me. Heavy.
I’m alone.
Until I’m not.
The acrid odor of metal invades my mouth.
And the memories shift.
The radiator, the butcher, the knife.
Blood. Blood is everywhere, even when I open my eyes.
But it is not the butcher in front of me today.
Or even the five faces from my nightmares.
It’s only one.
Alexander.
And a more recently familiar face.
That of Kylie’s friend Katie.
The one who told me about that crescent shaped scar on Alexander’s lip. The one who confided in me that he hurt Kylie and she feared he would hurt her too.
I told her that wouldn’t happen. I told her I would get to him first.
But her fears were right, and I am as wrong as I’ve ever been.
He’s hurting her now.
The violence and brutality of his depravity is on display, and it’s worse than any memory. He’s choking her with his cock. Squeezing her throat and dragging her around the floor.
Tears fall down her cheeks with streaks of black mascara, and hope has abandoned her.
I am powerless to do anything but watch the scene unfold before me. The way he spits at her and degrades her.
My binds are unbreakable. Unshakeable.
I can’t move.
But I can’t give up, either.
It isn’t often that I give my word and mean it. But I meant it with her. This girl is still so young. And she isn’t like me. There’s good left in her.
She told me about her dreams. How she wants to leave the street life behind and go to beauty school. I offered to help her, and I meant that too.
