I watch Caleb leave the room, and any hope that I might actually survive this leaves with him. The door slams shut, and a deathly silence fills the room. The only sound is the steady trickle of water as it flows down the drain.
I’m freezing, and my body convulses violently. I can’t feel my limbs. I can’t feel anything except fear and desperation.
Bob goes into a coughing fit in the corner of the room. I refuse to look in his direction. I just lay here, naked, in a puddle of freezing water, and stare at the fluorescent light flickering overhead.
“You’re fucking with his head,” I can barely hear him mumble that over the rattle of my teeth. “You know he has a soft spot for you, huh?”
Again, I lay silent. His face moves into my line of sight, a sick smile on his lips. He blows a ring of smoke in my face, making me cough weakly. His teeth are nicotine-stained and his gums are tinged grey. Everything about him repulses and sickens me.
He rests the cigarette on his lips again and inhales. “You make him weak.” I hear him move across the room, his boots squeaking against the concrete.
A few seconds later, he leans over me, holding out a blade. The light catches it, glinting off the steel surface. My mind is racing, panicking, but my body...my body can’t react. A frustrated sob breaks from my chest. It’s one thing to go down fighting, but to be unable to fight, this will not only destroy me physically, but also mentally. I only hope that whatever he’s going to do, he does it quickly.
He brushes his finger across the sharpened edge of the knife. I close my eyes and when I open them, he’s crouched down next to me. He grabs my face. His fingers are rough and reek of cigarettes.
He shoves the sharpened blade in front of my face and whispers, “I’mma do things to you that’ll make sure he’s not weak for you. Hard to be weak for a bitch that’s got her guts hanging out of her.”
My breath catches. I shake my head. His eyes are black, his face hard, except for a small flicker of excitement that crosses it when he stares at that damned knife.
“Damn”—Bob takes a drag of his cigarette, gripping it between his lips as he continues—“such a shame to fuck up a body as nice as yours.”
He takes the knife, barely touching the tip to the skin between my breasts.
I want to scream, but the cold is overwhelming me. I can feel my breathing getting slower, and my vision starts to blur. If Bob here doesn’t kill me, then the cold will.
He takes the cigarette and smashes the hot butt out on my breast. The heat is searing and I make a weak attempt to scoot away, but he grabs hold of me and yanks me back. My bare back slips against the cold, wet concrete.
“Has he fucked you yet?” He rolls his lip underneath his teeth and chuckles. He gropes my breast, pinching my nipple hard between his fingers. “Has he fucked you the way a dirty whore like you deserves to be fucked?”
I shake my head, a pitiful moan slipping from my lips. He presses the blade harder into my skin. “I’ll be doing him a favor by killing you. ‘Cause I don’t think he’s got it in him to do it himself.”
My chest is heaving. I can’t breathe. I feel the sharp edge slicing through my skin and pain erupts across my chest as he drags it down my body, inch by inch, stopping right before he reaches my belly button. I feel warm blood oozing down my sides. I close my eyes, and tears trickle down my temples.
He grabs me by the throat, and leans his body weight into me, his face inches from mine as he growls, “I will cut up every”—he places the blade under my throat—“fucking inch of you, and enjoy each second.”
He moves the knife from my neck, and the next thing I know, his fingers brush the inside of my thigh. I feel the slight scratch of the blade as he trails it lightly over my skin. He moves higher, until he’s almost at the apex of my thigh. My vision swims, and I fight the urge to pass out. I cannot pass out, I cannot let this happen, I think to myself frantically.
“How ‘bout I fuck you with this knife?” He drags the blade over the juncture of my thigh, laughing as I whimper.
I can’t stop the sob that slips from my lips. I want to die. Please kill me. Please kill me. I silently plead over and over again.
He strokes my face with his fingertip before pressing the tip of the blade into my cheek. I don’t even care anymore.
“Kill me.” It’s all I can say, all I want. I am done. I’m not strong enough for this nightmare. These are the monsters that other monsters fear. They will break me beyond reparation. Black spots dot my vision. I’m so tired. I’m so cold. I just want to sleep.
His smile deepens into a maniacal grin as he places the blade against my throat. “Not yet, sweet thing.” His eyes trail over my naked body, and he chuckles. “Not until I get exactly what I want.”
He palms my breast again. His harsh movements pull at the cut on my chest, and I wince. His hand trails over my stomach. “How about I finger-fuck this pretty pussy of yours.” His fingers dip between my legs, brushing against me. I squeeze my legs closed, trying to scoot away from him, but I’m too weak. Bile rises in my throat, even as my consciousness tries to slip away. Everything in me recoils violently at the thought, battling through my foggy mind and demanding I fight this. This man has stripped me, beat me, cut me, but he will not fucking rape me. I would rather die a thousand times over.
I grab his wrist and use the last of my energy to thrust myself off the floor. The sharp edge of the knife bites into my neck. I instantly feel the hot blood rush down my throat, and I smile, falling back against the concrete. I’m so cold. My body is broken and my soul is shattered. I welcome the blackness as it consumes me.