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.
Day three was worse, and yesterday I couldn’t keep the food in at all. I think I have a broken rib or two. My right hip hurts the most as if someone is constantly shoving a fist into my side.
The tiny space reeks of vomit and blood. It smells like death.
The old man never looks at me. He just puts down the food and water, and then he leaves in a hurry. I was playing with the idea of trying to overpower him, but I can’t even stand on my own two feet for long, never mind fight a man.
I hear the chain rattle outside, and I press harder into the corner, so hard my body screams with pain. I know it doesn’t help, but it’s instinct. A low growl builds deep in my throat, and I sound like an animal, nothing more than a beaten dog.
When Steven comes in alone, I frown. He hasn’t taken part in any of the actual beatings. He only holds me down.
I watch him set up the camera on a tripod and then he presses record, and the blinding light falls on me.
“So now you’re going to beat me? You finally grew a pair of balls, asshole?” I snap at him, angry that I’ve let the monster touch me.
“No, Henry does the beating,” he says calmly. Way too calm for my liking.
He fiddles with his belt, and my mouth drops open. I shake my head and struggle to my feet. “I’m not letting you fuck me.”
“Come on, babe. It will be like old times.”
He unbuttons his jeans and then drags the zip down exposing his boxers.
A fresh wave of adrenaline surges through me, and I make a run for the door. I don’t even make it halfway when I’m taken down. My body slams hard into the floor, face down, and I scream from the pain tearing through me.
Before I can push myself up, Steven grabs hold of my thighs, dragging me back. I claw at the ground like a feral animal, trying to get some sort of grip so I can pull myself away from him.
Steven crawls over me, pressing me harder into the steel with his full weight.
“Get off me!” I try to elbow him, but he yanks my right hand away, pinning it to the filthy ground. He uses his knees to spread my legs wider, and I try to kick back. I try to use my whole body to throw him off so I can get up.
“No!” For a desperate moment, I resort to begging. “Please don’t.”
I try to fight back, but lying on my stomach makes most of my attempts useless. My lungs are on fire from my panicked breaths. Anger flares through me and I scream to let some of the hopelessness out.
He doesn’t even bother removing my panties. I feel his dick press against my ass, and a wave of disgust makes bile burn its way up my throat.
His fingers shove the flimsy cotton to the side. “No!” I scream as I feel his dick ram against my entrance, but all my struggling and protesting only seems to excite him more. He keeps ramming against me as he struggles to get his dick in while holding me down. I try to clench my legs together, but his knees jar my attempts.
He enters me violently with a grunt, and I can’t hold back the inconsolable and horrified screams.
“No.” It’s the only word my brain can come up with in this moment of absolute depravity. Sharp burns tear through me.
“Don’t worry, babe,” he grunts breathlessly. “I’ll be quick. You won’t remember this for long.” He keeps thrusting into me, each thrust a scorching stab. I feel exposed and debased. “Tomorrow, Henry gets to shoot your brains out,” he grunts again as his body jerks faster against me. He comes hard, his body shuddering against mine as if my impending death is the biggest turn on for him. “You didn’t think you were going to live, did you?” I feel his clammy breath on my ear, and then he whispers, “But first we all get to have a bit of fun with you. You’ll be begging Henry to put a bullet right between your eyes by the time we’ve fucked you raw.”
He grabs a chunk of my hair and yanks me from the floor as he gets ups. I feel the stickiness of his cum dribble down the insides of my thighs, and somehow that makes it all so much worse. I feel filthy and empty, like a piece of discarded trash.
He shoves me closer to the camera and then talks directly to the blinding light. “There’s nothing left of her, Tom. You should have given us the money when we asked.”
He shoves me to the side, and I fall hard to my knees. I don’t even bother getting up but instead, curl into a fetal position.
I don’t notice him leaving. I don’t notice anything but the wetness between my legs that makes me sick to the pit of my stomach.
Emptiness stretches and grows inside of me, consuming every part that makes me human.
My mind is quiet for the first time as if it’s switched off.
I’m not thinking of ways to escape.