I couldn’t remember how it had all happened, how I’d ended up in the grass, my legs weakening with every step, my body first too hot and then too cold. Finally I’d been too breathless to move another inch and had collapsed into a heap where I’d stood. But what had happened?
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my thoughts to untangle. There had been men in that room with me, two of them, trying to force me to bathe. But I didn’t want to be clean, and I didn’t want their hands on me. I didn’t want anything from these people, nothing at all. Only here, they didn’t take no for an answer. Here they did what they wanted with the weak, and here, trapped in their cage, I was weak.
I remembered fighting with them as they fought to undress me, attempting to outright tear my clothes from my body. They’d claimed they only wanted to clean me and that they were just following orders, but they’d been lying. I’d seen the gleam in their eyes, the sneering twist of their lips. They weren’t just going to clean me, they were going to touch me, to use me, and so I’d fought them. I’d kicked and I’d clawed and ...
The man carrying me shifted my weight and I cried out in pain, the movement causing the pain in my belly to reach new and unbearable levels. He was undoubtedly just as dangerous as the others, but I was out of options. Unable to move and knowing the others were coming for me, I’d taken a chance that maybe he might help me instead.
And maybe hewashelping me. Or maybe he was taking me back to the others. Whatever he was doing, it was beyond my control now.
Eventually his footsteps slowed, and as he shifted my weight again, I heard the shriek of metal on metal, and then the sound of a door squealing open.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom around us. Not recognizing my surroundings, I froze as my fear turned to confusion, and from confusion to surprise as I felt myself being laid atop something soft. A lumpy couch, I realized, but not my sofa with the three cream-colored cushions. That was gone ... long gone. This must be his couch, his home.
I glanced around, finding things you would fill a home with—a couch, a table, a sink, and boxes and boxes overflowing with stuff. Another room was nearby, and inside it I could see a mattress on the floor covered in blankets. With all these things that made up a home, it should have felt like one. But instead this place felt barren and cold, despite its fullness.
Just like my cave, this was only a house, a space devoid of comfort and love. A place to keep your things inside and lay down your head. A place to hide, to lock yourself away and block out the evil of the world. Not a place where you lived, but one where you simply existed.
While I continued to take in my new surroundings, the man moved around the room, his heavy steps echoing loudly, and every once in a while his shadow would fall across me. Each noise made me wince, and each scrape of his boots along the concrete floor grated against my skin. I wished for the strength to get up and run, but every time I attempted even the slightest movement, I found that I could do little more than cringe in pain. Eventually, I gave up trying.
Soon I began to tremble as a deep chill settled into my bones, working its way through me until my teeth chattered. I needed to sleep. My body was failing me, and my mind was quickly fading.
A large shadow fell over me, and as I peered up through matted hair and sticky lashes, I found him looming over me, far too close for my comfort. I tried to snarl but it was halfhearted, full of threat but with no conviction.
His thick eyebrows rose as something akin to amusement momentarily flashed across his features. “Growl all you want,” he said, “but you bite me and I’ll knock you out cold.”
I didn’t respond, lacking even the energy to speak. But as he dropped to his knee beside me and reached his large hand toward me, I let out a startled squeak.
He paused and snorted, and then continued his reach. I squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating the vile act that was sure to come. Taking hold of my shirt, he peeled it painfully away from my skin, and my shaking and chattering worsened.
This is it. He’ll use me however he wants.
“Great,” he muttered. “Somebody sliced you open. Not too deep, probably a butterfly blade.”
I’d been cut?
His touch disappeared and I dared to open to my eyes. He stood up, cursing loudly, and walked off. I tried to follow his movements but my vision was blurry, and before long his silhouette began to blend with the shadows. I blinked rapidly, trying to see, but the room was tilting, spinning, everything coming in and out of focus.
I tried to think back, to remember what had happened. I didn’t recall getting stabbed, I only remembered their heavy fists. I recalled a belt being dropped to the floor, a loud clatter as weapons—guns and knives—tumbled away. I’d grabbed for one, reached for it, my fingers extending, stretching beyond their limits.
My hand had curled around the blade, and I’d turned, flipping my body over and slashing without care, catching the one holding me across his jaw. Blood sprayed down on me and I’d screamed at the sight of it, at the feel of the warmth of it splashing across my skin. I’d slashed and slashed until he collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap.
And then I ran.
The man returned, a deep scowl etched into his already terrifying face. Kneeling by my side again, he busied himself with something I couldn’t see. That was when I heard it, a soft splash.
Water. He wanted to wash me, to clean me, to get rid of my disguise, my only weapon and my only protection.
Renewed fear leaped into my throat, and again I tried desperately to move, crying out as pain shot through my body. He was just like them; he wanted me naked, clean, and vulnerable to him and the biters.
“Please,” I gasped. “Please, no ...”
He looked up at me, his nostrils flaring as his dark eyes narrowed. He didn’t care; he didn’t care at all. He was just like the others.
“Can’t stitch you up with you covered in shit,” he muttered in an annoyed voice. “You got two choices. I can clean the wound and sew your dumb ass up, or you can die from infection. Pick one.”
Now understanding the reason for the water, I relaxed a bit and tried to nod. Grunting, he turned back to the floor as I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to breathe.
I felt the tugging of my skin, the coldness of the water sluicing over me, and then the sudden sharp pain of something slicing me. I wanted to scream, I wanted to fight, to kick and slap and free myself from this torture, but my body remained useless and unresponsive. My mind was alert and alive, but everything else was a black void of nothing. I tried and failed to open my eyes, each time managing only a sliver of sight before feeling dizzy and nauseated and forced to close them. The man was still there, I could feel his presence at my side and every so often, his touch on my belly. Swallowing, I attempted to speak, but my words were nothing more than a slurred mishmash of unintelligible syllables and grunts.
