Authors: D. S. Wrights
Tags: #Abuse, #Adult, #Dark, #Erotica, #Fantasy, #Fiction, #Horror, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Science Fiction
Something to remember today... What can I think about? I have no idea. All that is in my head is the question if I’m going to go there again and what will happen. I don’t want to think about it. I just can’t. I need to distract myself. Can’t I skip Breakfast and go to the gym now?
Same. I try not to think about it. After Lunch there was waiting, and then being bound to the bars again.
I could feel how it plucked at my hair again; and how it smelled at it. It didn’t touch me. I guess it has some kind of conscience. Or maybe it’s afraid of punishment. After all, it is imprisoned, just like me. But... I don’t know. That would mean it has some sort of intelligence. How doesn’t it try to communicate with me then?
Why am I even trying to make sense of this? My mind is racing in circles, just like I am doing in my cell. My head is driving me insane.
Can’t I go to the gym a second time?
Why can’t I just stop thinking?
How am I supposed to sleep?
Somehow I know today will be different. Today is different. They are so silent. Like the whole world is silent. Even the hum of the light tubes seems lower.
Everything appeared to the same routine – Breakfast, break, workout, Lunch, break – until they brought me there again.
I was blindfolded after they shackled me against the wall again. I thought it would be like the days before, even though I had this strange feeling on my skin, because it was the wall, not the bars.
Briefly after they left the room, I heard it: how those bars, which had always helped me pretend that I was safe, were moved away. Sliding to the side, like one of those typical gates, with that exact same sound. Just like that. Without any warning.
That noise, the sound of the metal sliding on metal tracks, coming to a full stop, it was so terrifying. Such a simple noise, I never could have believed that it would crawl down my skin like an army of spiders, leaving a trail of goose bumps as footprints.
I could hear it coming closer this time. Was it not stealthy because there was nothing separating us now? Like it was some sort of permission for it?
Or did it want me to hear it? My cuffs felt like they were part of the wall. All I could do was to press my palms against the rough, uneven surface.
It didn’t even matter. It stopped just being close enough so that I could hear it breathing. It seemingly didn’t trust the fact that there was no wall between us. And it was being all stealthy again.
I SWEAR it was hands. Hands! Not paws that touched my sides, moving up my back. I mean, I was wearing my usual clothes – training pants and a T-shirt – but I still could feel its touch through the fabric. It was, like, exploring my body, every part of it. I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to. I felt paralyzed, frozen, as if had I wanted to move I would have to break myself. It was so scary and still, so still. All I heard was my heart in my head and its breath outside. The way it touched me, so cautiously and carefully, made me appear as if I was the most precious and fragile thing on Earth.
I probably am, compared to it.
Its hands slid up my sides and down my back, to my rear down my legs, to the knees, down the outside and up the inside. It made me hold my breath until I saw stars.
At the beginning the hands moved slowly, but as I kept still it moved more quickly. God, I hate to admit it, but it felt good. Its touch was so gentle that it makes me doubt if it really was a beast, an animal with no empathy. Because, God, it felt human. How it moved its hands to my stomach and then up to my breasts, so softly. And despite the movements of its hand it didn’t move its body against me. I would have expected that. And for a moment I really was disappointed. How crazy is that?
It has to be my inexperience. There’s no other way to explain it. This situation I am in. Why else would it feel like loss when it moved away? Why else wouldn’t I be freaking out being touched like that? If it had been a man, I would have been terrified, I would have asked to shower and I would have stayed the rest of the day there.
Yes, I feel dirty, but it’s a different kind. I don’t feel tainted, strangely I don’t feel molested and that exactly makes me feel nasty, and foul. I should be disgusted, I should feel sick, but I don’t. Why?
I do need a shower, but I won’t get one.
Can anyone blame me for not being disgusted about having contact with someone after eleven days? And it’s not that. Yes, my parents do hug me, but only if I approach them. And they do touch me, but not all the time. The last time I saw them is weeks ago and since then no one has even given me a hand. So, can anyone really blame me?
I wonder what will happen today.
Will they take me to the cage again?
Or do I get a break?
Will this be added to my daily routine now?
Or doesn’t it really depend on me? Does it?
I’m not sure, I don’t know if I want to be sure.
Lunch is over and now I am waiting for bad or worse. And I am not even sure which one is worse: being taken back there, or waiting and wondering, and worrying.
My hands shiver so much that I couldn’t start writing until now. Still, I can’t...
Fingers on my neck, fingers, I swear. Fingers were running down my throat, clawed fingers, with tips so strangely softer than they should be. I didn’t hear it coming this time. It was so fast. As if it had been waiting, lurking... I guess. And then, out of nowhere they were there, and I could sense how strong these fingers were, and these claws...
I really didn’t know if they would try to suffocate me or not. At least at the beginning I couldn’t tell. But it moved its hand down, slowly, barely grazing my skin, down to my breasts, cupping them, gently. Waiting, waiting for me to calm down, I think.
From the sounds, and its movements, how could this thing be human, and still have hands? Especially with such gentle hands. How could it be able to drive me insane when they sneaked beneath my clothes, touching my skin so caressingly? No, that was panic, nothing else. I was scared and nothing else.
Yesterday, it didn’t dare do that, but today... And I keep telling myself that I did hold perfectly still, keeping my breath flat, because I was terrified of the punishment which would await me if I broke my promise to behave.
Still, a part of me... a part of me wanted to feel its fingers on my skin. Despite those claws... These were fingers, not paws, this was... maybe I fled too far into my imagination. I surely did. Since I pretended it to be something else I was able to keep calm, but I... did I enjoy it? I don’t know. The way it touched me... it made it so easy to pretend that this was something else.
I know this is insane. God, I know this is insane. I could hear how its breathing changed as it changed mine. I can’t believe that it’s an animal. I swear it’s human. And, maybe it is too afraid to close in on me. Maybe that’s a good thing. It is a good thing.
I have to admit that I am curious what will happen today. Even though I have no idea what they expect me to do, or rather if they expect me continuing to stand still and let this happen.
Is it wrong that I still don’t feel disgusted? Or molested by this? A side of me knows that I should, maybe I am. Maybe I am just grateful that this is all this is about. Maybe I am still hoping that somewhere out there they are looking out for me and I can endure and wait, stay safe and whole like this. It could be worse, right? There are so many stories, so many movies about what happens to young girls. Sadly, Liam Neeson is not my father and this isn’t “Taken”, but if that’s what it takes to keep me fed and alive I can live with it. It could be worse. Hopefully it doesn’t get worse.
Am I excited? Or why am I writing now between breakfast and workout?
I tried to do my workout, but I couldn’t concentrate. Starting to think about what this could turn into was a very, very bad idea. Why do I like watching Horror movies and Thrillers? That’s the payback for not listening to my mom. Still, time flew by and I cannot really tell how much of my training I actually did get done.
It doesn’t matter now.
I have finished my Lunch and now I will have to wait. And waiting is the worst. God, I feel so insane for looking forward to get in that cage again.
It didn’t happen today. I don’t have a watch or anything to count time with but they took me to the gym again and I just... got on my trainer and rode.
So, it’s not happening today.
Is it punishment? For him? Or for me? I wrote
him
... Since I didn’t do anything wrong – because they didn’t tell me I did – it must be it – I mean him – the beast, maybe it did something wrong and that’s why I got a break? Or are they testing its reaction? Maybe mine?
They just asked me if I wanted anything, so I asked for books. Though I didn’t expect them to be that fast they brought me two along with my Dinner: “Pride and Prejudice” and “Sense and Sensibility”. Is this irony? Or do they want to tell me something?
My Dinner is – as always – some fruit and veggies and yogurt. Needless to say, that I don’t get a very sharp knife, but at least I get one. Seriously, I have seen those countless corridors. How am I supposed to escape from here? Is there any chance anyway? No.
Two weeks. I wonder if anyone misses me yet. I mean, I usually call my Mom. Isn’t she worried? Better not think about it, or any of it. So it’s time to read one of the books. Of course they are mine. All my stuff was my stuff before they got me. Of course.
They didn’t take me to the gym for the second time today. So I guess that... well they are taking me now.
It has been a week. That makes it day 21; a full week. There is no way that I could tell; I have to trust what the doctor has told me. I’m at their medical department. She told me – the doctor – that they held me in a coma until now, for seven days, and I doubt that she would lie about it. Yet somehow I have these weird memories and I cannot tell if they are just dreams or I was actually awake in between. These faces I remember, I haven’t seen them before. Theories say that you only dream of faces you have seen, even if you just have passed them on the street, but I am quite good at faces. I don’t know.
The doctor also told me that I will have to stay here for another seven days until I’m satisfactorily healed and they can remove my stitches. She told me not to move much and as she left, I found my diary and pen lying on the movable table next to the bed. Even though it couldn’t have been standing any closer... lifting my arm hurts, I feel like... well, I feel exactly like I should feel after what happened a week ago.
They took away the bars again, seven days ago. They bound me to the wall again. And I don’t know why but I hadn’t expected that since I had thought they were punishing him. It... Him... I really don’t know. I don’t know what to think, or expect now. I thought that...
Somehow I thought we would be back to square one. The chains were so tight that time; I could barely move my head, or anything. Yet the only way I could possibly stand was leaning forward, because the position of my handcuffs was too low, at my chest’s height, so that my palms were touching the wall and like that it did hurt my arms.
And that was what distracted me. I mean, he didn’t hurt me the last time, so why should I concentrate on him instead of trying to stand more comfortably? Maybe that was my mistake. Maybe it really was my fault. That’s what I heard in one of my dreams. It was my reaction that triggered it and not that it had been out of control.
It was so stealthy again that I only realized where he was when I felt his breath again, heavily exhaled. And I tensed. It was just instinct. Flexing my muscles was what made my chains clink, but I didn’t think any of it, because I calmed myself down again.
It didn’t touch me, was just standing there behind me, breathing down my neck and back, creating goose bumps. It almost seemed like... as if he wanted to say something and I tried to turn my head. He brushed my hair behind my shoulder and I could sense how he plucked at it again, gently twirling it between his fingers. No one can tell me that there are no fingers.
I knew he would touch me again and I wanted him to; simply because it had felt so good to have contact at least with someone and... Can anyone blame me?
His hand at my neck made me relax this time and I swear that they were normal: no claws. Yes, I could not see them, but there was no soft grazing on my skin. I do remember that.
Do I remember right?
Or is this just another dream?
There were no claws; at first. Still, when he slid his hands beneath my shirt and onto my stomach, these hands were missing their claws. These were hands, and arms; normal arms not hairy ones that I had expected. He wrapped them around me and moved closer.
I could feel his chest against my back. He seemed so human. His face against my neck didn’t feel different. I didn’t understand... I still don’t. Yet, my head started spinning and there was no way I could stop it, my thoughts ran off, broke free, asked questions to answer them in so many possible ways: What was all of this about? Was this even the same creature? What will happen next? What do they need me for? Why am I so calm? Don’t I know what could happen to me? I pressed my eyes shut and tensed.
And that’s when I felt how he started trembling, not shivering, like something was happening to him. Can he sense what I am thinking? I remember asking myself. And I felt it, on my skin, could sense how his claws grew. His fingernails turned into claws. They pressed into my skin, piercing it and it freaked me out. My whole body tensed into paralysis. I was frozen. I could... feel on my neck how his face... changed. I swear it.
They didn’t do anything! They were just... monitoring this. But they did nothing to stop him, or even distract him. Even though he growled and his grip tightened around me. There was no way that they couldn’t anticipate what would happen. It is their creature. They should have known. That’s why I know that they didn’t care what would happen to me. They didn’t care. Why save me?
I needed to stop writing. I just... needed a break. My stitches were hurting, I was breathing so heavily. This is so hard to get my head around. Maybe I was stupid to believe that I was worth something around here until now. I guess I still won’t be. The only reason they have stitched me back together is to put me back in the cage and see what happens. That’s all what this is about: see what happens when we put a girl in the beast’s cage. They wouldn’t have saved me if they do not want this to continue, would they?
So when my pulse went up and I was in pain again, the doctor came back and gave me some meds to sleep. And I honestly didn’t want to pick up the diary again. I didn’t want to remember. But I do. I dream about it and it scares me out of my sleep. So, what am I supposed to do? I cannot run away from that day or from the day they put me back. It’s not hard to recall it. I wish I wouldn’t remember it so perfectly.
You don’t feel it when you cut yourself and the pain surprises you. Paper cuts are the worst. Being mauled is even worse. This feeling when your skin gets ruptured, and claws tearing through your flesh, it’s like that paper has been replaced with a rusty old nail.
They didn’t do anything to stop it. They were deaf to my screams and I didn’t recognize my own voice, I still don’t. Now, as I look at my injuries, when they exchange the bandages, they don’t even look that deep, but the pain, the memory, went deeper. I never felt anything like that before. And I don’t want to feel anything like that ever again.
They would watch it kill me. I know that. I knew it when I cried out in pain and nothing happened. And it continued to hurt me, trembling, snarling. I have no idea how I could notice that with blood streaming out of me. No one made it stop, even my screams didn’t. I don’t know how, but then... I think I started whispering, speaking to him. I mean, I could barely bring out words, but I tried. I fought so hard to not scream and turn this into sounds that would help me. So, I hissed, turned it into a hush – as insane as it was – and it... he... responded to it. Maybe... the tremor he went through, this transformation, or whatever, was over and that was the true reason, but then I believe it was me. So, I continued.
“It’s okay”, I told him – even though it damn sure wasn’t. “Relax. Breathe.” I guess I told him a hundred times until he stopped, pushing out words instead of whines.
Out of nowhere he let go of me. I don’t remember how long it took until I could hear it stumble away from me as I passed out.
Still, I am not sure if what I recall after that were just hallucinations of a drugged mind or if I hadn’t been in a coma at all. It’s all just a blur. It could have been weeks.
After the pain I went through I would have imagined that my recovery would take much longer than two weeks, but the doctor says the stitches will be gone in six days.
The cuts are stapled, not stitched actually. Strange.
I’m not sure, but somehow it feels less painful when I move, maybe they just gave me a bigger dose of painkillers.
I cannot feel grateful for being saved, not even towards the doctor, even though she is really nice; seemingly. After all, I am still their prisoner and somehow that word doesn’t seem to fit. I got my first visitor today. But you can’t call her that. She has been rather just someone to check on me. I guess I am just another subject, apparently valuable enough to be saved.
At least until I am healed, I live in the brighter, whiter section of this complex. It really looks like a hospital room here. Like an intensive care unit.
The meals are the same and I have more company than before, when I do count the doctor who checks up on me and the nurse who changed my bandages. But I don’t talk to them. They do. The usual things like “try to sit straight”, or “open your mouth”, and that my vitals are getting better, but that’s it. I doubt that they would answer my questions anyway and I am still sleeping a lot.