Regardless of how they rearranged the rooms, which was strange enough as is, they still held the tragic familiarity of the constant rape that took place there. A cattle trough, which was filled with water, occupied the center of the room. A small part of my heart fluttered at the thought of taking a bath, at having the opportunity to rinse off some of the grime and bodily fluids that encrusted my skin.
The scientist, who I assumed was in charge based on his authoritative commands, must have observed the brief, lighthearted and momentary joyous expression because he beamed with amusement. Asshole.
“Ah, I see we have found another temptation for you. It was, as usual, my pleasure to figure out what entices you to be more malleable. Place her here.” His hand motioned to the floor in front of cattle trough, and I could see the glint of excitement as he spoke.
I loathed everything about the man, and his mousy voice grated my damn nerves. He stood before us. The smile on his face was arrogant, and the apparent brilliance lurked behind his eyes. With a gentle tug on my arm, we stepped forward to the trough, and I must admit, I was quite perplexed with the situation.
My body sagged in exhaustion as the stifled moans filled our room. I closed my eyes and hoped merciful sleep would take me away, if only for a momentary escape from reality. In addition to the tragic moments we endured, the psychosis brought on by the lack of sleep was a crucial factor in our abuse. We became more pliable, more susceptible to their advances, not that they needed our compliance. The men in the compound did what they wanted, to whom they wanted, any damn time they chose.
My eyes burned, not only in exhaustion but from the dirt and fluids that were often discharged onto my face. My body sank even further into the filthy floor, and all I wanted was a short reprieve from having to listen to others’ suffering. I squeezed my eyes shut and accepted whatever form of relaxation I would be granted. Everything happened for a reason.
Sebastian curled into a ball nearby, and his soft snoring brought a smile to my face. The poor boy suffered more than most of the others in that godforsaken room. He was one of their favorites. We both were. The thought sickened me. It was one thing to be raped and tortured by those brutes, but it was entirely different to be forced to watch Sebastian being taken by multiple pedophilic asshats.
I crawled to him, wrapping my skeletal body around his lanky frame. His body shook as he slept, and I wondered if he was cold or if nightmares plagued him once again. One possibility wasn’t necessarily better than the other. I held him close to me, trying to shelter him from the horrific fate that consumed us, even if it was only for a little while.
I loved Sebastian. Whenever I would recall how lively his spirit was when he first arrived, my chest ached so fiercely at times that I couldn’t breathe. Sebastian spoke of gleeful memories and adventures he had taken near his home. He often mentioned his parents, displaying a deep sense of affection and devotion. I was uncertain as to what happened or where they were, but I knew he was alone in this world, and I wanted to be everything he needed. Who was I kidding? I needed him just as much as he needed me.
It seemed as if the light would never come. The pain rang in my ears with every beat of my heart. The torturous brutalities that plagued our home would never cease. The others were huddled around me, trying desperately to meld into the walls, to become invisible, but the darkness laughed at us. It beat away at our hope and stripped away our sanity. I’m not sure if I would prefer the light, seeing those before me who are undoubtedly beaten, bloody and rotting in their skin. We were naked, waiting to be taken by those who ached for perversion.
Our home was a small, rusted room with a disgusting dirt floor that ate away at our skin. The room held no furniture. It was completely bare except for the bucket in the corner that forced us into shame as our bodies demanded the purging of waste and fluids. At least they gave us that. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. The walls were devoid of windows, which only served to isolate us further. The light that streamed through the doorway was very little, but after a while, your eyes adapted.
People littered every corner and wall, and some of them were undoubtedly dead. Lucky bastards. We used to fight each other for the comfortably hidden corners, but then we realized … no place was safe. They always walked into the room knowing full well who they would take. You couldn’t hide from them, nor could you hide from yourself.
Posted in My Writing, Wicked Hope, Wicked Series
Tagged Blood, Captivity, pedophilia, rape, Rotting flesh, sex, tilly slaton, Wicked Hope, Wicked Series