The ceiling fan above me spins effortlessly, around and around. The motor makes a soft grind every fifth rotation of the blades, the same way it always has for as far back as I can remember. When I was young, I would lay in this exact spot planning out my life. I had so many dreams, hopes, and wishes. The love of my life would show up while I was in college, and we’d meet out of pure coincidence. It would be this instant thing that would just be known and bind us together. While life may not always be easy between us, we would be easy together—we would simply fit. We’d marry and have three children and a dog.

I’ve always wanted a dog, but my parents would never let me have pets. It would be one of those special things that I could have under my roof with my man and my own family. I’d get my degree in early childhood education and teach youngsters how to count and read or business, who knows. My life would be happy, pure, and honest. I’d get up every morning and usher my kids off to school, then kiss my husband goodbye only to go off and do my thing. I would be completely surrounded by love and be fulfilled in every way possible. We’d come home where I’d cook a meal, and everyone would sit around the table together talking about our day.

My best friend, Bristyl, would call me, and we’d do lunch or have a playdate with our kids in tow. Everything would be perfect.

But what is perfection?

My mind swirls with so many thoughts, and my heart painfully beats with emotions I can’t lock down. Physically, I feel my body fight to stay alive while my mind dances between life and submitting to the darkness of death.

Whatever my plans were, they will never be. All of it was lost the moment I stepped into my parents’ home to surprise them. A happy moment shattered, and nothing will ever be the same again. Now, there is nothing. Empty. Void. My body doesn’t even feel like my own.

What do you do when drowning inside yourself?

There is nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape the hell I have found myself in.

Teetering. I’m on the brink of falling apart.

Yet, as I lay here fighting a losing battle, I can’t help but grieve the loss of my hopes and dreams. All of it under the same ceiling fan where I once believed in a happily ever after.

Fear is one of those emotions that has so many levels that one never knows the depth of the despair until it hits, crushing you in its path. Then it’s at your doorstep threatening your very existence, falling around you in a pile of ash and soot. It’s only then that you realize the swirling darkness has sucked you in, drowning your soul.

As I lay in the bed, my wrists tied with a coarse rope that bites into my skin which is attached to the bedpost and my ankles the same, the words to describe the level of fear I have won’t process. It’s beyond my comprehension only being matched by the pain.

My insides burn everywhere. Every millimeter of my body is on fire.

I once heard that the human body has the ability to shut off the pain when it’s so intense that you go numb. I’ve been waiting for that, and it hasn’t come. Instead, I’m in agony.

It’s like someone stuck a hot poker in a burning campfire and touched every part of my body, searing me and branding me only to repeat the process over and over again until my body wants to shut down, but can’t quite get there.

Branding. My mind is forever marked by this day. My dying moments will be seared with all the things they have done to me.

Each breath is difficult almost like there are holes in my lungs making them unable to hold the oxygen. With each short inhale, the pressure in my chest grows worse and worse. The weight of a brick building rests on it making each intake harder and harder, almost as if I’m drowning under the water and unable to catch my breath.

Blood runs down my torso sticking to what’s left of my clothes on my body. Each one of those bludgeoned marks a reminder of my time here—in this place, with these three men. The metallic smell in the air assaults my nostrils like I need another reminder of the blood I’m losing on my childhood bedroom floor.

Three men attacked me in my parents’ home. The very place I’m supposed to be safe no longer feels it. Three men who really didn’t want me, but instead wanted my best friend, Bristyl, and got me as a runner-up. Three men who feed off my fear.

They’ll take what they can get, that’s what they keep telling me. I’m the warm-up to the show they plan to have with her. It makes me want to vomit.

I’m so damn conflicted because it should be Bristyl laying here helpless, in pain and scared. I have to fight back the weed of hate that wants to take root in my heart toward her, wanting to blame her for this. I know better, but the selfish piece of me screams this is on her even when it’s not.

Even though it was supposed to be Bristyl, this is something she’d never want for me. She wouldn’t want three strange men touching me, hurting me, and assaulting me. No, Bristyl would do anything and everything to keep these assholes away from me. And I know without a shadow of a doubt if she could take my place she would.

Therefore, as broken as I am, I can only hope she doesn’t find me so she won’t have to endure any of this.

They’ve talked, hell they won’t shut up, about what they want to do to my best friend. While I hope they don’t get her, from their words, I fear they will. Their words are worse than what they’ve done to me, and that can’t happen. No one deserves this, especially the woman I consider a sister.

In truth, which is hard to bare, this is my fault for going on that dating site and bringing Nick and his cronies into our lives. I have to own my part in all of this. If I wouldn’t have been so desperate for love, attention, or whatever I was really seeking, then none of this would have happened.

Shiny silver reflects from the light and I close my eyes wanting to block it out, not wanting to see my blood dripping off its tip like some sick game these three are having way too much fun playing.

People fear the unknown. Right now, I fear what I know. It’s the pain, the agony, and the way they keep me on the brink of death without allowing me to topple over into the dark abyss just to continue to toy with me.

Knowing any moment that blade will slice inside my body is torture in and of itself. I know it’s coming and even when I wish for it not to, it doesn’t matter because it slams into my flesh. The stabbing pain turns into blazing fire when the blade is twisted. I have no control. The cries from my lips don’t sound like my own, instead of those from a feral animal ready to meet its maker. I try to stifle the sounds, but the more pain I endure the less I feel like a part of myself. I’m here, but I’m not. It’s a strange experience. I want to stay quiet, but the wails fall out of my mouth in hysterics that sound mortifying.

My head is all jumbled up like it can’t decide which part of me hurts worse or what part of me is still okay. It’s as if parts are beginning to shut down to save me from the pain, but it’s not working. Just when I think it will numb out, something tingles and brings the sensations full force back through me.

Time has stood still because I have no recollection of it. All hope is dwindling. I’ve lost it all.

No hope that this will be over.

No hope I’ll be able to walk out of here, alive and in one piece.

No hope for anything at this point.

That’s a whole other level of fear.

The part where I know I'm going to die, leave my loved ones behind to grieve my loss.

Never see them again.

Never feel their arms around my body.

Never have a family of my own or meet the one.

Never get to live the life I’ve been so preciously given. My time is being stolen, and I’d give anything for five more minutes with my parents and my best friend to say bye; to let them know how much they mean to me.

Regrettably, this here is my last memory. These men touching me. Hurting me. Violating me and my body in ways I don’t wish on an enemy, not that I have any. Or at least, I didn’t until these men entered my life.

What’s worst of all is I led them to Bristyl and myself. Me and my online escapades trying to find Mr. Right. Well, the man I thought I met, Nick, is only one of the men I want to see gutted and rotting six feet under, where I’ll soon be.

Death is imminent. They haven’t hidden their plans for me to die. I’m only alive until they get Bristyl. Then, they want to enjoy making her watch me die.

All too soon and not soon enough at the same time. All my hopes, dreams, and wishes are vanishing, knowing my time is coming to an end. To be free of this pain, this torture, I’ll let it all go. Everything.

If I had any ability to move, or the strength, I’d love to be the one to take Len, one of the assholes, out and give him the karma he so desperately deserves. What all three of these men deserve. Really, they aren’t men. They are cowards, fools, and disgraces. Yet, I’m going to die and they will live; it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

Men, real men, are like Bristyl’s man, Cooper. He’s tough as nails, doesn’t take any shit from anyone, and has a damn good heart. One so big he’s going to give my girl the world, and that’s what she deserves. I almost smile at the thought. She’s going to have everything at her feet by a man who is a real man, who loves her with everything he has inside of him. They haven’t been together long, but she talks about him like he’s God and will change everything. She deserves her happily ever after.

Her brothers and father have guarded her for so long, this is her chance at a life built her way.

Tears spill over my chapped cheeks, but it’s nothing new, including the shriveling of my heart. Len hasn’t stopped since I woke up on this bed, knowing each revolting touch, my time coming to an end, scaring me more and more. Death shouldn’t come to someone so young. Let alone, no one should have to feel this.

Each time the blade sinks into my flesh, I’m one step closer to death and the angels that will take the agony away. At some point two of the men, Nick and Poe, left me completely alone with Len. I’m at his mercy, and he has none. I’d hoped Len would go too, but I wasn’t that lucky. No, I have zero luck in this situation. Sad thing is, even with two of the men gone, I can still feel the phantom pangs of their nasty hands touching and fondling me. It’s something I’ll have to take to the grave with me. Every revolting second of it will be with me to the end.

Yes, this is an all out different kind of fear. It’s not the ‘fear of getting on a plane’ or ‘fear my car will run out of gas.’ No, this is life changing no going back, what’s done is done fear.

Scarred.

Battered.

Beyond saving.

And I want it to be over. Done. The knife he shows me with a sinister glint in his eye, I want to plunge it into my heart and stop everything.

Stop the pain.

Stop the hands.

Stop the thoughts.

Stop the tears.

Stop everything.

Instead, the sharp metal slices through my shoulder and I cry out, unable to hold it in. Fish swim through my thoughts, how they’re cut open and fileted some of the time when they’re still alive. Never thought I’d feel like a fish, but now my sympathy for them is great and makes me never want to eat fish again. Is this normal? The crazy, random, make no sense thoughts when you know you’re going to die. Shouldn’t I have some poetic thoughts? Yet, here I am comparing myself to a damn fish.

“You little cunt.” Len punches me hard across the cheekbone, red fire exploding behind my eyeball. The small bit of hope that it’ll knock me out is soon forgotten when the sleep doesn’t come. If he’d just hit me harder, maybe I could pass out. The next hit snaps my neck hard, and black spots form in my vision. Darkness begins to creep in, so I close my eyes reaching for the nothingness, where the pain and fear don’t lay. Where your brain turns off and you’re able to relax if only for a small while. I relish it, welcome it with open arms, but like freedom, it’s out of my grasp too.

“Say it!” he roars, holding up a phone, but my eyes are cloudy. I hear Bristyl on the other line of the telephone, at least I think and pray it’s over the phone. Len pulls my hair hard, ripping it from my scalp, and burning pain radiates from my head to my toes. I’m able to hold back the scream, only giving a small whimper. I don’t want to say the words he wants to hear; rather I wish he’d cut my throat and end me. He’s told me what he was doing, and the darkness hasn’t overtaken me to get me out of saying the words to my best friend.

He yanks harder, tearing the hair from my scalp in clumps, each chunk of my hair searing me. He doesn’t stop, just grabs more and more—yanking and pulling and tossing the tattered hair to the ground. I don’t want to say them—I don’t want her to come here, but I want the pain to stop. I want him to stop pulling my hair because it’s not helping me with the darkness I desperately want; no, this is only causing more and more pain. Flashbacks hit of when Bristyl and I would do our hair all up to go out for the night, making sure each curl was in place. Now, I’ll die with most of my hair gone.

“Come to my parents’ house, now.” The words come out as a cry and each one I hate because I know I’ve just brought Bristyl to this, and that guilt weighs heavy on me. Please just take me away from this. Put me out of my misery.

I can only hope now that she doesn’t come alone. No matter what they tell her or what she thinks, I need her to be smart enough not to come alone.

He punches me again, this time with the phone, releasing my hair; guess he didn’t like my hesitation, then swipes the phone without another word to Bristyl. Please, Bristyl, don’t come here alone. Bring your boyfriend and his guys. Bring Green. Please. They won’t let them touch her. Bristyl will be safe with them.

Green, his eyes, they comfort me even in this hell. I always love movies with the instant connection but never thought it was real. Now, I guess I’ll never know for sure because the flutters I felt when around Green will never be fully developed and blossom into something special. Instead, I’ll be rotting, but thankfully the pain will cease.

I’m almost there, into the darkness, my eyelids get heavier and heavier as confusion begins to take root. I’m right there on the cliff, so high I can almost see the bottom where the beautiful water lays and peacefulness will overtake me. If I could just fall over. Topple. Freefall. Plummet. Please let me get there. When I try to open my eyes, they won’t cooperate and I count this as a blessing, as a sign that it’s coming. The end. The calm. The peacefulness. The point where the agony will cease to exist.

Time ticks on, with Len inflicting more misery, and I drift in and out of consciousness as he touches me, hurts me. The tears come and go, letting him know if I’m alert or not. It’s like the moment I get to the brink where I won’t come out of it. He changes the angle and the level of pain increases, jolting my body back to awareness. I never knew so many tears could come from one person before. But I’m living proof there are many.

My mind has given up, but my body is involuntarily still fighting for life.

Then I hear it off in the distance… Bristyl’s screams for me. I’m able to minutely crack open an eye, seeing my best friend in the doorway to the room. Guilt pounds me in the head like a sledgehammer. She shouldn’t be here and what’s worse, there’s no one behind her.

Panic grips me like never before.

I did this, and the action creates a deep, black mark on my soul. I’ll die knowing I brought her into the depths of hell right behind me. I’ll die knowing her slow, agonizing death is on my hands as much as theirs for getting her here. I’ll die knowing I screwed over the person I’m closest to in my entire life.

The knife slices deeply across my rib cage, a horribly sensitive place from the brutal beatings, and I’m sure with this cut he hit some organs.

“About fuckin’ time you got here.” Len slices into my arm, and I let out another whimper.

“Stop! What are you doing?” Bristyl screams, walking into the room, the look of utter shock and fear crossing her features. My mouth feels like sandpaper, and my brain is shutting off. The fight within myself is like a war of two sides, neither wanting to relinquish control. I want to warn her, but can’t get the energy out, but I fight like hell.

“Want her to die?” Len asks her, calm as can be.

I quickly hear, “No!”

“Then you come with me. And, bitch, you fight me, I’ll gut you. Then I’ll come back and gut your friend. I may have to fuck her, too. All this shit is gettin’ me hard.” Bile threatens to spill and I fear choking, but it would be a better way to go. I welcome it, although it doesn’t come. That’s one thing these assholes haven’t done. Cut me down there, yes, but actually stick anything inside me, no. It’s been the only blessing in this fucked up mess. I have tensed for it, prepared for it in my mind as much as I could, and my only reprieve has been that it hasn’t happened… yet.

Bristyl takes a step further in the room. “Where?”

He points the knife, that is dripping in my blood, directly at her. “No fuckin’ questions. You make a fuckin’ sound, I’ll slit your throat. Got nothin’ to lose.”

Len doesn’t wait for her to answer, he gouges the knife into my side as I cry and scream so scratchy you can barely hear me now.

But I clear my throat as best as I can, needing to say something, because the guilt is riding me hard. I don’t want my last memory of my best friend to be this. “Get away from him, Bristyl!” I try to scream, but it comes out hoarse, cracked and laced with pain, as he picks up the blade and punctures me again.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Len twists the knife already lodged in my flesh, creating agony through me. Numbness doesn’t come, but I pray that it will. Some sort of relief. With Bristyl here, I don’t want to die. I want to try to save her, then I can die. Fighting back the splashes of colors dancing in my vision, I hold onto reality as hard as I can.

“Okay! Okay! Stop!” Bristyl yells, trying to get Len’s attention, waving her arms in front of her sporadically. “I’ll go. Come on. Right now.” I came to terms with dying here today, but I can’t let Bristyl die with me.

“Don’t!” I crack, but it again comes out haggard and broken from the level of trauma made to my now fragile body. I never realized how much energy it takes to speak. It’s another thing in my life that I’ve taken for granted. Just talking to the ones I love, now it feels like I’ll never be able to speak again. Yet again, another level of fear, realizing I’ll never do things like talking again.

Len lifts his fist and punches me in the temple so hard my eyes roll into the back of my head and close. Mumbled sounds come from my lips, but I have no comprehension of them.

“No!” Bristyl says faintly in the background.

“Don’t,” is the last word from my lips as the darkness finally takes over. Whether she could understand me or not, I’ll never know. It’s oblivion, a dark space I find myself in where I’m not all the way conscious, but I don’t think I’m dead yet either.

The rope rubs on my torn, tattered flesh, but the pain increases as someone is touching me. Fear rushes through me again. Opening my eyes, a fog is over them making everything fuzzy and grainy, unable to focus. I must have passed out. Everything comes running back in a flash, and I tug at the ropes, wanting to get far away from these men, some of my fight coming back, but along with that comes the hurt and pain as well. Adrenaline courses through me as my body wants to give one more fight, and my mind wants to succumb to the darkness of death.

“Easy, Leah. I’ve got you.” Focusing on the voice and blinking a few times, Stone, Bristyl’s brother, stands on the side of the bed untying the knots.

Tears fall from my eyes, and I don’t know if it’s relief that he found me or if it’s mortification of how I must look. Everything is swirling in my head so fast, I wish I’d pass back out, but I really want out of here because they’ll come back. That I have no doubt. If this is my one little sliver of hope to get out of this mess, as painful as it is, I’m taking it.

A tug comes on my arm, and a whimper escapes, “Shh… let me get you out of these ropes. The ambulance is on its way.”

I should be relieved, right? Getting away from those assholes and receiving medical attention, but all there is, is fear. Fear they will come back. Fear that they will hurt Bristyl.

God, Bristyl. Did they save her?

Stone is here, I try to clear my thoughts. The panic builds. Fear that they will hurt Stone if they find him here. There’s also confusion, kind of like my brain has been put in a blender set on high and swirled around for hours.

Painstakingly slow, he removes the ropes, but my body doesn’t want to move from this spot, the rough part of the rope leaving my wrists bloody and torn up. My arms lift a slight bit, but everything feels heavy, almost numb, like my brain knows it’s in too much pain to get through another moment. I want it all to go away.

“Oh God.” My eyes, only small slits, slowly focus on the door and Green stands there, his face losing all of its color. The same mortification fills me, but this time it’s also the knowledge that Green will never look at me the same again.

We’ve kept in contact since our first meeting at the rally, even met a couple of times in person. Getting to know him without seeing him face to face was unbelievable, and I felt connected to him in a way I never had with another person before.

Now.

Now. I’m a mess. Inside, outside… I’m conflicted, wanting him here and not wanting him here in the same breath. When he comes to the edge of the bed, kneeling down and grabbing my hand, sobs erupt until I pass out.

There is no hope for things to ever be the same between us again.