Alone.

I’ve been alone for a long while. I can’t tell if it’s night or day. The space I’m in offers some artificial light, but I can’t see outside. The thick concrete walls have kept me prisoner. My back aches, it stings as I move, and I try my best to recall what happened when I was bound to the metal bed.

* * *

“You’re such a pretty little toy,” a gruff voice from behind me speaks. A small trolley is rolled closer, on it is a computer which is currently black. The screen is dead, and I wish I was.

I’m still sick from the images I saw earlier. From the girl being beheaded. There was a sick satisfaction on the man’s face as he did it, as if he found pleasure in doing what he did.

I don’t speak now. I know it’s pointless. A cold device is pressed against me and I feel my body opening, the object slipping inside my core.

“She’s a virgin,” the man says. I can’t tell the difference between the two anymore. There’s no distinct change in tone and I wonder if I’m losing my mind. A small sharp prick against my shoulder shoots something warm and languid through me. My muscles are limp, and I find that I can no longer move my limbs.

“There, there,” a voice coos. Then a large hairy hand reaches for the computer and the screen lights up with images. Scrolling from one to the next of similar scenes to earlier, it plays on a loop and I can’t move my eyes. They’re watering from tears, but I can’t close them.

That’s when a vibrating object is placed at my entrance. Against the spot of my body that sends pleasurable tingles through me.

“You’ll learn to play the game, little one,” the man tells me with confidence. A click sounds behind me, but I can’t move. Frozen. Captive. A prisoner.

When the screen changes, a video appears full screen and the tears I’d been blinking away burn a path down my cheeks and onto the cold metal.

Once more, a man walks on screen. As he undresses, something is pushed inside me, tearing through me so harshly, I cry out, the sound ricocheting off the walls.

The sound is turned up on the computer and I’m met with the old man grunting inside the throat of a girl who looks so familiar. A girl whom I’ve known my whole life. And I recall the moment the man moves to offer us a view of her pretty green eyes the image of my sister.

There’s blood dripping from her nose, but she’s lying upside down, and I watch in horror as she’s violated once more by the man who turns to the camera and chuckles as his cock is lodged in her throat.

My heart catapults wildly when his face comes on screen and the vibrator against my clit is turned up harshly causing pleasure and pain to skitter through me like a ten-pound weight.

An orgasm rocks me when I look into the eyes of my father and all I can do is succumb to the force of agony that I’m thoroughly fucking broken. I’ve been torn from a normal life.

I’m severed.

* * *

The door creaks open and I’m met with the deep blue eyes of the boy who can’t be much older than me. His white hair is a stark contrast to the asphalt color walls. He doesn’t say anything, merely shuts the door and heads to the bucket in the corner. It’s empty. I haven’t eaten anything in the past few days. I don’t recall drinking anything either. My body is weak and I know there’s no way I can fight my way out of here.

“You’ll get lunch shortly,” he bites out coldly. There’s something strange about him, something I can’t place my finger on. When he turns to regard me once more, he sees my face is glistening in the low light of the oil lamp he’s carrying. “Are you crying?”

I don’t want to tell him I am. I don’t want to admit to feeling broken, shattered. I don’t want to tell him what I saw. But something tells me that he knows. Surely, he does.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, of course I’m crying. I’m locked in hell with the devil and his foot soldiers and I am wounded beyond repair.”

He stalks toward me and I’m certain he’s going to hurt me, but he stops just short of my bed. He leans in close, his face right in mine. I meet those eyes that remind me of freedom, of the clear blue sky and the cool ocean waters.

“If you cry, he’ll only make it worse.”

“What do you care?” I bite out in frustration.

“Did you come when you watched the video?” He smirks, a cold, cruel grin curls his lips. “Did your little cunt get all wet and achy?” He leans in closer, his mouth almost on mine. “And when you came, did you cry out for God?”

“Fuck you!” I spit, the clear saliva hitting his face just below one of his beautiful eyes. The man is sinful, like the devil in disguise.

“Your next training session is today. After lunch, you’ll learn just how much worse it can get.” With that, he spins on his heel and I want to crawl to him and beg him to free me. My mind is awash with confusion, everything is blurry and cloudy. The door opens, another young man walks inside carrying a tray. He sets it on the bed beside me and they leave me alone.

I don’t know what to do, but the food on the tray is my only sustenance and I wolf it down in the hopes that it will strengthen me. I need to fight. I have to get out of here.

The bread is soft and warm, the butter melting on it making my mouth water. I stuff it in my mouth, not bothering to chew. I need to eat, and the ravenous feeling overwhelms me. Tears trickle from my eyes once more as I revel in the flavors on my tongue.

I drink the water from the mug on the tray. It satiates my thirst like I’ve been given life once more. Moments later the tray is empty. I lift it in order to place it on the floor, but as soon as I attempt to stand, my legs give out and I fall to my knees, the metal clanking loudly, my ears feel as if they’re about to shatter and that’s when my eyes flutter closed once more.