God, what did he plan to do to me?
“Aw, shit, don’t start that,” he grumbled as I started to cry harder. I wouldn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I looked away, staring at the pale wall that was really no color. Not quite white, not quite beige, I didn’t know what to call it.
Ugly. It was ugly. Wherever he’d put me was awful and when I glanced down, I could see the edge of the thin, dirty mattress that I was lying on. I shifted my leg again, the chain loud as it rattled against the bare floor. The chain was hooked around a rusted pipe that seemed to lead nowhere.
“Stop crying!” he yelled and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to stop.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop. His yelling made me cry harder. He shouted again and I pressed my lips together, containing the sob that wanted to escape. I held it in, felt it grow bigger and bigger like a balloon full of too much air until I couldn’t take it anymore and I opened my mouth, the sound like a sad sort of pop that only made him madder.
“Shut up!” Without warning he slapped my face and I cried out in shock, scrambling back on the mattress, trying to press myself against the wall. “Shut the fuck up and listen to me!”
I was shaking. So terrified that I clutched at the wall, moaning low in my throat, begging for my mommy like I was a baby.
I’d have given anything to be a baby at that moment, back in my mother’s arms as she cradled me and kept me safe. I could feel his hands on me as he grabbed me by the waist and threw me down onto the mattress like I was a rag doll. He was strong. So much bigger than me. I lay there, my eyes closed, my head turned to the side, and he drew closer, his breath wafting across my face, hot and sour, as he whispered, “You sure are pretty.”
No, no, no.
He drifted his hand across my cheek and I recoiled from his touch, whispering the word that was like a chant inside my head.
“No.”
No acknowledgment of what I said. “I wish I could keep you.”
Oh God, oh God, what did he mean? Of course he couldn’t keep me. That meant he’d have to . . .
Eventually get rid of me.
No way could I think of how he might do that.
I sobbed. I wailed. I sounded like someone else, like a character from a scary movie, and for one quick moment, it all felt so unbelievable, so incredibly crazy, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that this was real.
That this was really happening.
To me.
“Shhh,” he whispered as he cupped my cheek. His fingers were gentle but they made my skin crawl and I shook my head, wishing he would stop touching me. “Be quiet. I can’t let anyone hear you.”
That meant someone could hear me. Hope lit a small flame inside my chest and I yelled louder, repeating the same words again and again.
“Help me! Help me, please! Please help me!”
He slapped me, so hard I saw stars, which I’d never believed was a real thing. I immediately went quiet and he placed his hand over my mouth. Despite my keeping my lips as tightly sealed as possible, I tasted him. Salt and dirt and whatever else he’d touched that I couldn’t identify.
I wanted to throw up.
“Look at me.” He pressed his hand harder on my mouth, his fingers nudging against my nose, and I inhaled sharply, my nose wrinkling as I caught his distinct scent, a mixture of sweat and something else, something that reminded me of—excitement. He was excited by all of this.
I hated him.
Opening my eyes, I found his face so close to mine I could count every tiny eyelash that lined his eyes, every hair in his eyebrows. His eyes were wide, his pupils huge, and a weird, exaggerated smile curved his mouth.
“Keep your mouth fucking shut, you hear me? I don’t like it when girls are loud. When girls fight.” He paused, and his smiled faded. “I suggest you don’t fight. It’s much easier when you let me do what I want.”
A noise left me, painful and raw. My eyes burned from unshed tears and my head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. I gave no answer, but he didn’t care.
“You swear you’ll be quiet?” His hand clamped my mouth like a vise.
I nodded, my entire body quaking. He shifted, I could feel him looming over me, his knees on either side of my waist as he straddled me. Fear coursed through my blood, turning it to ice, and I felt it happen before I could stop it, the warmth spreading immediately.
I peed myself.
“Jesus.” He leapt away from me as the sharp scent of urine hit the air and he removed his hand from my mouth only to slap my face again, his wide palm cracking against my skin and knocking me so hard my head swung to the side. “Fucking dirty bitch. What the hell is wrong with you?”