Unbroken

Twenty-Seven

Skye

Present

With Britney gone, we know they’re coming back for us.

I’ve given Fay the rundown about this shithole. It’s important she knows what we’re in for. Not that I even know the full extent of it. My knowledge is murky, but pretty much, we’re so fucked, it’s not even worth talking about.

I pace the room, wringing my hands together, trying to internally erect the walls for the sake of self-preservation.

I need to be calm.

I need to be strong.

I can’t run from this.

By the time they’re here, I’m strangely at ease. I’m sort of thinking I ought to fucking participate instead of fight back. Conserve as much energy as I can by not struggling. Large figures flood into the room, all cloaked, faces hidden behind ominous white masks. They advance in my direction, their intent clear. I guess it’s my turn. I raise my hands out to them. “I can walk.”

But it makes no difference. I’m grabbed and shoved out of the room in such a harsh way, I get whiplash. Right before I leave, I throw my head back, telling Fay, “Be strong. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I don’t get to see her face when they shut the door on her. One locks it as I’m dragged down a dank corridor by two others on either side of me. It’s dimly lit, but I can see enough. Stone walls, more doors, my bare feet skidding along a dirt floor. My heart never stops thumping wildly as we turn a corner into another dark corridor.

“We’re approaching the stairs,” a voice speaks behind me. “Cover her head.”

A cover sweeps over me, obscuring my sight, making me lose my balance. I look down, able to see my toes as they run along the floor. A noise sounds to my right. A door creaks open and then only one is ushering me inside, holding me so tightly, my arm is going to have one hell of a bruising.

My breaths move in and out quickly as complete darkness takes over. I can’t see my feet, and then I feel like I’m falling. I let out a surprised shriek as I tumble forward. The grip around my arm tightens as I’m kept upright, my feet tumbling down steep stairs. It’s discombobulating. I don’t know how many stairs we have descended, how deep into the earth this place goes, but when we finally stop, I still find my legs moving automatically. Again, I tumble forward, and again, I’m righted.

Keys jingle nearby. A lock clicks open. A door groans.

We move again. I’m led deeper into the stomach of the beast, and this time, my other senses are on high alert, picking up sounds that make my legs weak with terror. Screams fill my ears, so many voices come at me in different directions. Pleas, curses, movements that I know are flesh pounding against flesh.

This is hell.

I’m in hell.

I don’t have to see to know what’s happening.

I find my feet digging into the ground, my body resisting to move forward.It’s okay, I try to tell myself.Keep going. Keep going.

But my body is rebelling against my thoughts because this is not fucking okay. I don’t want to keep moving forward. I try to detach from the punishing grip on my arm. It’s no use. He won’t let go, and now I can’t breathe. I see sparks in my vision, I feel my head go light, and I start to lose consciousness.

Terror swallows me whole.

“Stop! STOP!” I scream, flailing now, kicking at the man as he tugs me along like a ragdoll. “NO! NO! I DON’T WANT THIS! LET ME GO!”

I go weak, numb, my body falls, and this time the man lets go and shoves me headfirst into the ground.

I black out.