Fear like I have never known spirals through me. The sounds in the room have played over and over, this mental torture is almost worse than the physical. Pain dulls, my body heals, but this… this is in my mind, it’s one thing I can’t escape.
Every part of my fragile body is numb. I’ve been tied in this goddamn medical bed for days. In fact, I’m not sure how many days it’s been. I have lost all concept of time. I don’t know whether it’s morning, evening or the middle of the night.
The darkness is endless.
I dart out my dry tongue, licking my lips which taste of dried blood. They are cracked and peeling, splitting every time I move them. I can’t feel my hands or my feet, despite my attempts to move them. I have only had one visit. One. And that was to remove my clothes. I lie naked, covered in my own urine and feces. The smell is nauseating, but I have nothing left to vomit. My stomach is empty. I haven’t eaten a single thing, neither have I had anything to drink.
The sound of torture being played into the room comes to a sudden stop. I stop my never-ending thoughts for a second, trying to work out whether my mind is playing tricks on me, or whether the noise has indeed ceased. I open my weary eyes, trying to be as alert as possible, but shut them as fast as I can when an unexpected amount of light streams into the room.
“Who… who… is it?” I croak out, desperate for someone to hear, but I’m not sure they can. I’m blinded by the light; my eyes water a little and I try to stop the stinging sensation that hurts so damn bad. I hear footsteps approaching and I open my mouth to ask again, only nothing comes out. I’m helpless. Completely and utterly broken.
Relying on my senses, I listen to the movements around the room. The clinking sound of the straps that hold me down ring through the silence.
“Fucking clean her up. She’s no good to me like this.”
I recognize that voice. Alvrez.
“Food and water, Sir?” the voice closest to my body asks and I recognize that one too. Harlan.
“Just a little. Not enough to give her full strength, but enough so that I can actually do something with her.”
“Yes, Sir,” he replies quickly, continuing to work loose the straps. I feel my body lifted from the bed and I’m moving. The next thing I know I’m being placed into water that is neither warm nor cold. My lip quivers and dizziness swims in my head.
“Clean yourself,” he growls, a cloth hitting my chest.
“I… I… I… can’t open my eyes. It hurts so bad,” I croak. The lights go off and I attempt to open them. I manage to open them ever so slightly. A small amount of light filters into the bathroom from the main room. I can’t quite see right, but I recognize what little I can see. I’m in the bathroom adjoining the room where he’s had me holed up before.
“Better?” he asks with a tone of sarcasm.
“Yes,” I reply, my throat burns it is so dry.
“Here, drink this.” I keep my head down, taking the glass he holds out right in front of me. My hand trembles and I can barely hold it still. “Small sips. Don’t gulp it. You’ll make yourself sick.” I let my cracked lips meet the rim of the glass, sipping small amounts of the water. He removes the glass, and I whimper a little as my body craves more.
“Get cleaned up first,” he orders, pointing to the cloth still resting on my chest. I slowly lift my arm, trying to grasp it. It’s like every little movement feels like I’m lifting weights. I have no strength at all in any of my limbs. “Do it,” he roars, startling me, my body shakes in response. I will my hands to move and grab the damn cloth.
“I’m trying,” I sob, my voice giving out. I finally manage to grab the cloth and grip it loosely as I start to wash my soiled body.
“You are disgusting,” he spits at me and I tilt my head just enough to look at him. His nostrils flare and his lip curls at the edges as he looks at me like I’m some sort of stray, flea-ridden cat that he despises. “I don’t know why he is bothering with you. I would have left you to suffer and die if it was up to me.”
His words flow off me like water from a duck’s back. I can’t get angry, because I don’t have the strength. I can’t have my revenge because I’m too weak.
I need to be strong again.
I will be strong again.
I got out of that room and I have to do everything to make sure I never go back in there. I don’t think I will ever come out alive if I do. I have to hold on, taking one day at a time. Self-preservation is everything right now.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, dropping my head, not wanting to meet his eyes again. I summon every bit of strength that my pathetic body has left to scrub myself.
“Hurry up,” he growls, shoving his hand in his pants. “I can’t take this smell much longer.” His hand flies to his mouth, covering it as he turns away.
“I’m trying. Please, I’m so weak but I’m doing the best I can.” I breathe deeply, desperate to get my breath. Even talking seems to take more energy than I have right now.
“Fuck this,” he mutters, storming back toward me, causing me to cower in the bath of water, my knees lifting, I huddle them as I try to get away from him. He reaches above me, turning on the shower. I cry out, the cold water almost too much to take. He reaches for the bottles lining the side of the bathtub, grabbing one and squirting the contents all over me. “That should work,” he heaves, throwing the bottle at me as he retreats. I sit there, freezing cold water showering my naked body, rubbing my washcloth over and over, desperate to get rid of the smell. I work it between my legs and under my ass. His eyes burn into me and I know he’s getting off on seeing me clean myself. He reaches down, grabbing the lump where his erection shows, glowering at me as he does it. So, this is the real Harlan. The mean, calculated menacing version he hid from me when I was here the first time. To think I actually thought he liked me, that he wanted to help me. I’m a fool. Nothing but a naïve idiot.
After a few minutes, when he’s happy I’m clean, he reaches for the button once more, turning off the flow of water. I shake uncontrollably, my body desperate for some warmth.
“Out,” he orders, digging his nails into the top of my arm as he drags me from the bathtub. His face comes so close to mine I physically gag. “Brush your teeth,” he barks, thrusting my limp body towards the sink. Nodding, I reach for the brush and the tube of paste on the back of the sink. My hand shakes as I grip the paste. Squeezing a blob onto the bristles of the brush I begin brushing. I glance at myself in the mirror as I brush. I barely recognize the reflection that stares back at me. My face is gaunt, my skin mottled. My eyes look sunken and the skin around them is so dark. My collarbone sticks out like I’ve never seen before. The fresh water and mint taste in my mouth makes my stomach growl, reminding me just how hungry I am. I shiver, a pool of water has collected on the floor from my body. Grabbing my arm, he leads me into the bedroom and over to the closet. Pulling out a bathrobe, he thrusts it toward my chest.
“Put this on.”
I nod again, sliding my arms into the robe and fastening the sash. “Sir wants you to eat. I’m not sure why, maybe he’s not a fan of the skin and bones look.” He laughs, leading me out of the room and down the stairs. My legs are so weak, but I manage to stay upright, because I know my life depends on it. Harlan walks toward the huge room where he had the meeting with Brax and his men. As I walk through the door, I notice that it looks exactly like it did before. Everything in place. No bullet holes. It was like it never happened.
“Isabelle,” Alvrez holds out his arm and I’m dragged toward him, forced into his embrace. He wraps his arms around me, holding me there tightly. I weakly return the monster's hold, my hands resting against his back. Parting from me, he looks me directly in the eye.
“I can trust you now, can’t I?” His question seems less like a question and more like a warning.
Allowing my eyes to flutter shut, I nod my head slowly.
“I’m sorry you made me put you through that.” He tilts his head, his hand cupping my cheek. I want to recoil, to tear his hand away from my skin because it feels like it’s eating away at the flesh, but I can’t.
“This was my fault. I should never have tried to leave again. I understand now.” I let the lies fall from my mouth because it’s what I have to do to survive. But lying alone doesn’t feel like enough. I have to convince him. I have to make sure my lies are believable.
He narrows his wrinkling eyes on me. “I really hope you have learned this time, Isabelle. I’ve given you a second chance. There will be no more.”
“I understand.”
“Go fetch the poor girl some food,” he orders, his arm flying out as he points toward the door.
“Yes, Sir,” Harlan answers with a dip of his head, turning on his heel and heading out of the door.
“Sit, Isabelle, sit with me.” He smiles and I obey, dropping into the seat he points to just beside him. “I have so many plans for the two of us. I just need you to have a little more energy.” He smirks, a wicked, stomach-curling kind of smirk. I fight back my desire to cry, to let out all the pent-up emotion I feel, forcing myself to act with this evil, sadistic, excuse of a man. I feel like I lived through his other victim’s torture. I have their screams buried deep inside my soul. Their pleas play over and over in my mind. Being abused is bad enough, but watching it through the eyes of the monster is something else entirely. I stifle the scream that stirs deep inside, hiding it and holding it back.
“How… how long?” I choke out. “How long was I in there?” I clarify. I watch as he tilts his head, contemplating the answer.
“Several days, Isabelle. Some don’t last that long without food and water. I’m proud of you, my angel. You really did fight to stay alive.”
I shudder, crossing my arms, digging my fingers into the soft cotton robe. For days I was in that hell. The worst kind of hell you could ever imagine. I have no idea how I survived it. But I did, and there must be a reason why. I have no idea what the reason may be, but I know one thing.
My story isn’t over yet.