I feel my way along the wall, but find nothing but another wall, and then another … and another. The space is so small.
“Fuck! I’m so deep in shit. They’re gonna kill me. Oh, God. I’m dead! How did they find me? What did I do wrong?” Panic sets in, ceasing all common sense. I feel my way to a corner, and I slide down until my butt hits the floor. I press back against the cold, hard surface until I’m practically one with it.
Dread makes the dark reach at me with clawing fingers. It makes time slow down and the air thin. The horror of my situation makes my insides quiver and my mouth dry.
Seconds tick over into bloodcurdling, terror-filled minutes.
Minutes slither into what feels like unnervingly scary hours.
I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know if it’s night or day outside. I don’t know who has me, or why.
I know nothing but naked terror.
I’m gripping my knees tightly to my chest, rocking myself, when I hear a loud bang against the one wall. I shriek and press further back into the cold metal. What the fuck was that?
I’ve been going through stages. First panic, then fear. Then I’ll start to reason with myself that I will find a way to escape until I’m calm again. Anger comes last, where I start to plan ways of defending myself until I’m filled with rage and I’m imagining ways I’m going to kill whoever has me.
I go from feeling hot to cold in seconds, from crying hysterically to just rocking myself like some crazy person.
But right now, all I feel is paralyzing fear, unlike anything I’ve felt before.
I keep thinking that any second can be my last second.
I keep worrying that I’ll run out of air. What if I’m buried and I don’t even know it?
I keep imagining dying in this black hole, and no one will ever know.
I hear a key rattle in the door and then light spills into the tiny room. A frightened yelp slips from my dry lips. I quickly scan my surroundings before the light is taken from me. It’s only gray walls, a gray floor, and gray ceiling. It looks like a tiny box.
Oh, God! They have me in some box. They’re going to bury me!
My chest starts to tighten, and it gets hard to breathe. I break out in a cold sweat, and my body starts to shake terribly.
I don’t want to die like this.
Hot tears spill over my cheeks, but I’m too scared to wipe them away.
The man standing by the door just stares at me, and it’s terrifying the crap out of me. He has a rough beard and shaggy, salt and pepper hair. He’s larger than the average man. Tall, broad, and a stomach that tells me that he lives a comfortable life.
It takes me a moment to recognize him, but when I do, relief washes over me, and for a moment, I feel faint and giddy.
“Mr. Attridge?” I croak, and then the tears come.
I struggle to stand, using the wall for balance. My legs are a trembling mess, threatening to give way any second.
He used to come over to our house all the time. He, Dad, and Uncle Tom were really close before the accident.
But then he scowls at me, and he looks far from friendly now. It makes my moment of relief short-lived, and the tears dry right up as dread washes over me.
“Cara,” he says as he steps into the room. He closes the door, and I can’t see him anymore.
My heart rate spikes and I flinch when a match lights up the small space for an instant. The small flame makes eerie shadows jump and dance against the steel walls.
He lights a cigarette and then all that remains is the glowing red coal.
“Imagine our surprise when we saw you walk down the road there by Easy’s bar. You look so much like your mother. May she rest in peace.” He takes a drag, and the coal glows brighter, lending a creepy quality to the room. “Stupid changing your name to your mother’s. You made it so easy for us to find you.”
He takes another drag, lighting up his face again in a scary red glow.
“Yeah, that was a real stupid thing to do,” he whispers unnervingly making cold chills race up my spine. “So, unfortunately for you, we have a score to settle with your father.” I hear him spit. I’ve forgotten how deep his South African accent is. I don’t understand why he would be here.
I start to shake and fear swells in my chest until it suffocates me. “I don’t understand any of this!” I cry out when the fear becomes too much to bear.
“I know, my girl. I’m sorry, but it’s just the way things are. You know how it works. Children pay for the sins of their fathers.”
The door opens again and three men come in. For a moment, I can only make out their silhouettes against the sharp sunlight that’s streaming in behind them. One is holding a camera, and he fiddles with the thing until a red light starts to flash.
What the fuck do they need a camera for?
The other two move closer to me, and my eyes dart to them.
Steven?
Steven’s one of them?
The shivering stills and I can only stare. They’ve been watching me. I got so careless! I forgot that I was running for my life.
“Say your name to the camera, girl,” Mr. Attridge snaps.
“Cassy Smith,” I blurt out. I don’t want to make them angry.
“Your real name!” he snaps irritably, and I flinch back from the hostility in his voice.
“Cara Ellison.” My heart pounds in my ears.
“Say the date,” he snaps again.
“October ninth.” I try to keep my eyes everywhere at once, but mostly on Steven and Mr. Attridge.
“Who is Ralph Ellison to you?” He growls, and my stomach churns with dread.
“He’s my father,” I whimper.
“Only for ten minutes, men. We only need enough on tape to let that piece of shit know we’re serious. After the boys are done with you, your uncle will come running to save you, just like he did when I killed your parents. Don’t be angry, Cara, this is just the way things are done. No hard feelings.” I watch Mr. Attridge with huge eyes, as he hands the cigarette to the man next to him. “Here you go, Henry.” And then he walks out, leaving me with the three men.
The door closes, and a bright light flickers on from the camera, spotlighting me. Everything else blacks out but the bright light. My body starts to shake, and I press back into the cold wall.
What’s going on?
What are they going to do?
A million horrible scenarios race through my mind, tightening the cold grip of panic on my insides.
Henry moves first and comes right at me. He looks like a hulking mass of darkness. I scream and duck to the side, but he grabs hold of my arm, yanking me back.
Where I go, the blinding light goes, and the tiny red light tells me that they are recording all of this.
Henry’s voice is a vicious growl that agitates every nerve and leaves my insides quaking. “Don’t just stand there! Get your ass over here and hold her down!”
I’m dragged forcefully from the corner. I lose my balance, and my knees slam hard into the floor. My teeth clatter, and I bite my tongue from the force. “Get the jacket off,” Henry barks.
“No!” I shriek, and I try to pull back. “Please don’t.” I don’t know what I’m begging for, but it’s all my mind can come up with.
My movements grow frantic with panic, and the air grows hot and stuffy with all of us in the small space. The smoke from the cigarette makes me want to gag.
Steven moves in front of the light, making it disappear. For a second, I sit shocked before all my senses rush back to me. Henry’s fingers dig into my shins, and he yanks me towards him. I fall over backward, and my head slams into the hard steel floor, making another hollow banging sound that vibrates through the floor and into my body. I start to panic as a suffocating feeling weighs heavily down on me.
“Fuck you!” I spit at them, and I start to kick with every bit of strength I have in my legs. I manage to kick Henry in the chest, and he falls back on his ass.
I use my
moment of victory to scramble to my hands and knees. I crawl away, and every movement I make echoes in the tiny space.
Steven comes at me, and I rush to get to my feet, so I can run, or at the very least defend myself. My flight instincts have finally kicked in. Better late than never.
The bright light makes it hard to see. They pounce on me, and the fright rips a petrified scream from me. So many hands grab at me!
I yank and hit, but it feels like I’m getting nowhere. All I hear is hard breathing, definitely my own and theirs right by me – closing in.
For an awful moment, my arms are yanked painfully back, and then my jacket’s ripped from my body. My ass hits the floor hard as I’m shoved down.
I keep hitting, kicking, and growling like a possessed person. Dread has taken over every part of me. In this terror-induced state, there’s only one thought – survival. I have to survive this somehow.
I always thought fear was cold. I always described it as cold. I was so wrong, so very wrong.
Fear makes your mind terrifyingly crystal clear. It’s so you can take in every little thing that’s happening around you. Your body runs purely on adrenaline with not a drop of blood pumping through your veins.
I hear the material of their clothes crunch as they move around me.
I feel the air shift as Henry pulls back his arm. I swear my skin stretches thin over my face as I wait for the blow to come.
The not knowing makes it so much worse.
Fear makes pain worse.
Fear makes time stand still.
Fear turns people into monsters and every sound into a warning of what may come.
A fist slams hard into my cheek, and my neck whips back from the force. I scream, and it sounds desperate to my own ears. Pain engulfs the whole left side of my face, making it pulse with a heartbeat of its own.
Then Henry’s horrid voice ripples through the dark. “Get the shirt off.” The growl comes in raspy breaths.
I try to crawl away, but they are so much faster than me. Steven moves behind me, and bile burns up my throat. I wish I could vomit all over them. Maybe then they’ll stop.
But I don’t vomit, and my body convulses the second Steven takes hold of me.
I can’t just let them beat me.
Shit, what if they rape me?
Oh, God, I won’t survive it. Just the thought of one of these fuckers bringing his dick near me is enough to make me turn into a wild beast.
I try to swing my elbow into Steven. The movement throws me off balance, and I fall to the side, swinging at nothing but the stuffy air.
Steven grabs hold of my shirt, and then he yanks it up against my neck. For a blinding moment, it tightens horribly around my neck, cutting off my air supply. He yanks again, and the force snaps my head back. The material bites at my skin, and then it’s gone. Clammy air sticks to my torso, and I feel horribly exposed.
“No! Fuck you! No!” I scream until my throat burns.
“Grab her arms,” Henry growls. I see the coal of the cigarette burn red, and it lights up Henry’s face. Fuck, he looks evil – like the devil himself.
“Let me go!” I shriek. I start to thrash and kick, trying to worm myself out of this impossible situation.
Henry places a knee over my thighs, and his left hand comes down hard over my breasts. He forces me back to the floor, and then he kills the cigarette against my side. The burn is intense, but nothing compared to the fear of not knowing what they are going to do next.
He flicks the cigarette away, and then his fist comes at me. The blow makes my eyes bulge with pain, and the world starts to spin. A coppery taste explodes in my mouth, making my throat burn with bile.
The next blow feels like he’s trying to rip a hole through my face. The third punch makes the bright light fade, and pain takes over until it feels like even my teeth are aching.
I give up fighting, and my body goes slack. Blood floods my mouth, dribbling out the side and down my aching jaw. The last memory I have is a sharp pain in my chest as his foot connects with my ribs.
The dark is killing me slowly. The blinding light scares me even more. I know it’s been four days. It doesn’t sound like much, but they make a recording once a day for Uncle Tom. I don’t think Uncle Tom is going to help me this time. I haven’t spoken to him in years. Hell, I don’t even know if he’s alive.
Every day, Mr. Attridge adds five minutes to the beating. Yesterday, the twenty-five minutes felt like twenty-five years. I thought it would never end.
I’m dreading today! Every sound makes me jump with fear.
Every day, they remove an item of clothing. On day two, it was my sneakers, day three my socks, day four my jeans. They keep taking my clothes away, leaving me with less and less of myself.
I shiver constantly, and I don’t know if it’s from the cold or fear. I only have two items of clothing left.
Day one I was still in shock. I didn’t eat when the old man brought food. Day two I forced myself to move. I pushed through the pain after they were done kicking and hitting me, and I ate. It was a struggle to keep it down.
Day three was worse, and yesterday I couldn’t keep the food in at all. I think I have a broken rib or two. My right hip hurts the most as if someone is constantly shoving a fist into my side.
The tiny space reeks of vomit and blood. It smells like death.
The old man never looks at me. He just puts down the food and water, and then he leaves in a hurry. I was playing with the idea of trying to overpower him, but I can’t even stand on my own two feet for long, never mind fight a man.
I hear the chain rattle outside, and I press harder into the corner, so hard my body screams with pain. I know it doesn’t help, but it’s instinct. A low growl builds deep in my throat, and I sound like an animal, nothing more than a beaten dog.
When Steven comes in alone, I frown. He hasn’t taken part in any of the actual beatings. He only holds me down.
I watch him set up the camera on a tripod, and then he presses record, and the blinding light falls on me.
“So now you’re going to beat me? You finally grew a pair of balls, asshole?” I snap at him, angry that I’ve let the monster touch me.
“No, Henry does the beating,” he says calmly. Way too calm for my liking.
He fiddles with his belt, and my mouth drops open. I shake my head and struggle to my feet. “I’m not letting you fuck me.”
“Come on, babe. It will be like old times.”
He unbuttons his jeans and then drags the zip down, exposing his boxers.
A fresh wave of adrenaline surges through me, and I make a run for the door. I don’t even make it halfway when I’m taken down. My body slams hard into the floor, face down, and I scream from the pain tearing through me.
Before I can push myself up, Steven grabs hold of my thighs, dragging me back. I claw at the ground like a feral animal, trying to get some sort of grip so I can pull myself away from him.
Steven crawls over me, pressing me harder into the steel with his full weight.
“Get off me!” I try to elbow him, but he yanks my right hand away, pinning it to the filthy ground. He uses his knees to spread my legs wider, and I try to kick back. I try to use my whole body to throw him off so I can get up.
“No!” For a desperate moment, I resort to begging. “Please don’t.”
I try to fight back, but lying on my stomach makes most of my attempts useless. My lungs are on fire from my panicked breaths. Anger flares through me and I scream to let some of the hopelessness out.
He doesn’t even bother removing my panties. I feel his dick press against my ass, and a wave of disgust makes bile burn its way up my throat.
His fingers shove the flimsy cotton to the side. “No!” I scream as I feel his dick ram against my entrance, but all my struggling and protesting only seems to excite him more. He keeps ramming against me as he struggles to get his dick in while holding me down. I try to clench my legs together, but his knees jar my attempt
s.
He enters me violently on a grunt, and I can’t hold back the inconsolable and horrified screams.
“No.” It’s the only word my brain can come up with in this moment of absolute depravity. Sharp burns tear through me.
“Don’t worry, babe,” he grunts breathlessly. “I’ll be quick. You won’t remember this for long.” He keeps thrusting into me, each thrust a scorching stab. I feel exposed and debased. “Tomorrow, Henry gets to shoot your brains out,” he grunts again as his body jerks faster against me. He comes hard, his body shuddering against mine as if my impending death is the biggest turn on for him. “You didn’t think you were going to live, did you?” I feel his clammy breath on my ear, and then he whispers, “But first we all get to have a bit of fun with you. You’ll be begging Henry to put a bullet right between your eyes by the time we’ve fucked you raw.”
He grabs a chunk of my hair and yanks me from the floor as he gets ups. I feel the stickiness of his cum dribble down the insides of my thighs, and somehow that makes it all so much worse. I feel filthy and empty, like a piece of discarded trash.
He shoves me closer to the camera and then talks directly to the blinding light. “There’s nothing left of her, Tom. You should have given us the money when we asked.”
He shoves me to the side, and I fall hard to my knees. I don’t even bother getting up but instead, curl into a fetal position.
I don’t notice him leaving. I don’t notice anything but the wetness between my legs that makes me sick to the pit of my stomach.
Emptiness stretches and grows inside of me, consuming every part that makes me human.
My mind is quiet for the first time as if it’s switched off.
I’m not thinking of ways to escape.
I’m not thinking of ways to hurt them back.
I’m just not thinking.
What’s the use of thinking? I’m already dead.
They killed my will to live.
CHAPTER 3
CARA
“Girlie,” The whisper comes from the old man. He’s standing right outside the door. It’s too early for him to bring me food.
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