Steven comes at me and I rush to get to my feet so I can run, or at the very least defend myself. My flight instincts have finally kicked in. Better late than never!
The bright light makes it hard to see. They pounce on me and the fright rips a petrified scream from me. So many hands grab at me!
I yank and hit, but it feels like I’m getting nowhere. All I hear is hard breathing, definitely my own and theirs right by me – closing in.
For an awful moment my arms are yanked painfully back, and then my jacket’s ripped from my body. My ass hits the floor hard as I’m shoved down.
I keep hitting, kicking and growling like a possessed person. Dread has taken over every part of me. In this terror induced state there’s only one thought – survival. I have to survive this somehow.
I always thought fear was cold. I always described it as cold. I was so wrong, so very wrong.
Fear makes your mind terrifyingly crystal clear. It’s so you can take in every little thing that’s happening around you. Your body runs purely on adrenaline with not a drop of blood pumping through your veins.
I hear the material of their clothes crunch as they move around me.
I feel the air shift as Henry pulls back his arm. I swear my skin stretches thin over my face as I wait for the blow to come.
The not knowing makes it so much worse.
Fear makes pain worse.
Fear makes time stand still.
Fear turns people into monsters and every sound into a warning of what may come.
A fist slams hard into my cheek and my neck whips back from the force. I scream and it sounds desperate to my own ears. Pain engulfs the whole left side of my face, making it pulse with a heartbeat of its own.
Then Henry’s horrid voice ripples through the dark. “Get the shirt off!” The growl comes in raspy breaths.
I try to crawl away but they are so much faster than me. Steven moves behind me and bile burns up my throat. I wish I could vomit all over them. Maybe then they’ll stop.
But I don’t vomit and my body convulses the second Steven takes hold of me.
I can’t just let them beat me!
Shit, what if they rape me?
Oh, God! I won’t survive it. Just the thought of one of these fuckers bringing his dick near me, is enough to make me turn into a wild beast.
I try to swing my elbow into Steven. The movement throws me off balance and I fall to the side, swinging at nothing but the stuffy air.
Steven grabs hold of my shirt and then he yanks it up against my neck. For a blinding moment it tightens horribly around my neck, cutting off my air supply. He yanks again and the force snaps my head back. The material bites at my skin and then it’s gone. Clammy air sticks to my torso and I feel horribly exposed.
“No! Fuck you! No!” I scream until my throat burns.
“Grab her arms,” Henry growls. I see the coal of the cigarette burn red and it lights up Henry’s face. Fuck, he looks evil – like the devil himself.
“Let me go!” I shriek. I start to thrash and kick, trying to worm myself out of this impossible situation.
Henry places a knee over my thighs and his left hand comes down hard over my breasts. He forces me back to the floor and then he kills the cigarette against my side. The burn is intense but nothing compared to the fear of not knowing what they are going to do next.
He flicks the cigarette away and then his fist comes at me. The blow makes my eyes bulge with pain and the world starts to spin. A coppery taste explodes in my mouth, making my throat burn with bile.
The next blow feels like he’s trying to rip a hole through my face. The third punch makes the bright light fade, and pain takes over until it feels like even my teeth are aching.
I give up fighting and my body goes slack. Blood floods my mouth, dribbling out the side and down my aching jaw. The last memory I have is a sharp pain in my chest as his foot connects with my ribs.
The dark is killing me slowly. The blinding light scares me even more. I know it’s been four days. It doesn’t sound like much, but they make a recording once a day for Uncle Tom. I don’t think Uncle Tom is going to help me this time. I haven’t spoken to him in years. Hell, I don’t even know if he’s alive.
Every day, Mr. Attridge adds five minutes to the beating. Yesterday, the twenty-five minutes felt like twenty-five years. I thought it would never end.
I’m dreading today! Every sound makes me jump with fear.
Every day, they remove an item of clothing. On day two, it was my sneakers, day three my socks, day four my jeans. They keep taking my clothes away, leaving me with less and less of myself.
I shiver constantly and I don’t know if it’s from the cold or fear. I only have two items of clothing left.
Day one I was still in shock. I didn’t eat when the old man brought food. Day two I forced myself to move. I pushed through the pain after they were done kicking and hitting me, and I ate. It was a struggle to keep it down.