Welcome to my dark little corner of the universe, as with almost all the things I write, this story consists of many dark, Non-consensual themes, a little DV, some violence/abuse, imprisonment, kidnapping, and occasionally even a little bit of torture. This particular chapter includes her period, if that makes you squeamish, perhaps skip this chapter. If any of this or my terrible grammar offends you, then this is not the story for you!
*****
Arioch released the rope that bound my wrists and slowly pulled away, tucking himself back into his jeans. I studied the dented impressions left behind as I lay on the coffee table, body languid and sore. It took me several times to swallow so that I could speak clearly and be understood. I knew I wasn't going to be brave enough to say it a second time, that was, if I lived long enough to say it a second time. I wanted nothing more than to be courageous, but with the ebb and flow of the blistering pain, all I wanted was for it to stop.
"I would rather die a heathen, then spend an eternity with
you.
" His gaze darkened, something I hadn't thought even possible until that moment.
"Would you rather I gave you to one of my cousins? If it hadn't been me that picked you up it would have been one of them...you think any of them are better? I have no doubts any one of them would be eager to have you as their bride.
I'm
not the bad guy here! I am only trying to keep you safe...all I ever do is keep everyone safe. I expect a little bit of rebellion; hell, I can even put up with some of that lip, but I will
not
tolerate you trying to leave us again." There was a long stale silence before he shook his head in dismissal and motioned me to stand with the crook of his finger.
"Come with me, darlin'." His tone made it clear there was no room for argument. It took me a minute to pull myself into a standing position while he stood by and watched me struggle. The bandage crinkled with every move and when I finally stood up straight the scalding pain returned tenfold, causing my vision to swim with bright colors.
Arioch caught me before I hit the floor, lifting me into his arms as though I weighed nothing at all, which I knew to be the farthest thing from the truth. Under any other circumstances, it might have even been chivalrous; in this instance it only reminded me how weak I was. He carried me down the basement stairs, the temperature drop sending a ripple of goosebumps across my skin. Arioch secured me to the cot with, surprise...another chain. It quickly became clear I wasn't getting any of the clothes back and I was too spent to protest. I just wanted to escape into the comforting world of slumber and not have to think about any of it. I didn't want to think about the raw look of hunger I had seen in his eyes. Or the sinister smile that spread across his face when I cried or begged, and how much wetter I was because of it. I didn't want to think about the fact that my chances of escaping were growing slimmer by the day. Arioch grabbed the blanket and pillow from beneath the bed and proceeded to tuck me in.
"The salve will help with healing and preventing infection, I'll change the bandage again in the morning. For now, don't mess with it." Then, I was alone with nothing but my own misery for company. How much longer was I going to be able to hold onto the small remnants of myself? Maybe it was time to stop focusing so much on escaping and spend more time observing. How did that old saying go...Know thy enemy? I was confident I had read it somewhere in a book. Perhaps the more I learned, an escape plan would come to me. Maybe even someday I could get him to let his guard down. But how long would that take me? Would I even survive to see that day? What if it took
years
? Would I have kids by then? Would he have other wives? The questions swirled endlessly around in my head until sleep pulled me under.
~~~~
My sleep was erratic throughout the night, between the flaring pain of the brand and the nightmares, when I woke, I felt more tired than I had before going to bed. The searing pain awoke with me, reminding me of my foolish decision the day before. I was tempted to peek beneath the bandage but was too afraid to see the damage he'd wreaked upon me. I did my best to keep my left leg still as I tried to sit up; every slight movement pulled the tightened skin and I felt something cold and wet puddled beneath me. Had the burn blistered and popped? I lifted the blanket, shivering as a whoosh of cold air reminded me that I was still naked, and felt woozy at the sight. The bandage had peeled back in my sleep, the adhesive having stuck to the blanket as I tossed and turned. I could see the top half of the G, the skin around the permanent mark was red and furious, the scab itself looked dark and yellow but I saw no blisters and when I investigated further, I found the source of cold wetness; it was blood. I was sitting in a small pool of it, some having already dried, some of it having soaked into the unprotected mattress beneath me. Could the seeds have worked this quickly? Or was it just my time of the month? How long
had
I been there? I never thought I would be so happy to see my period, but it meant I wasn't pregnant, at least not yet; which meant I still had time.
I slowly swiveled, whimpering with every movement as I tried to stand. I was reminded of the summer I spent at my grandmothers, a few years before she passed away, the beach was literally in her backyard and I 'forgot' to put on my suntan lotion. Truth be told I put on baby oil, I had been told by a friend it would get me a deeper tan. What I got was the worst sunburn of my life. Turns out sun poisoning is a real thing, my skin turned a bright cherry red, and I was covered in dozens of blisters within hours. The brand on my leg hurt more than that had, the surrounding flesh was sensitive, even the slightest brush of the blanket hurt. But the need to clean myself up was stronger. I hissed and growled as I forced myself to my feet, leaning more of my weight on my good leg. I limped my way to the washer and dryer already knowing beside them was a small utility sink, mostly used to clean off heavily soiled items. Like his jeans with all the caked-on mud towards the bottom of his pant legs. That pile hadn't been fun to scrub. I grabbed a washcloth from the pile of clean clothes, and I was just starting to clean up when I heard the basement door begin to unlock. I felt a wave of heat rush to my face and I began cleaning faster. I was beyond mortified, blood was everywhere, I didn't think he was going to be happy to see the mess I made. The muscles in my abdomen spasmed and I leaned against the washer for support. A few more locks opened, and I began cleaning in a frenzy. I was nearly all cleaned up when I glanced back and noticed the trail of bloody footsteps behind me; the sight of which had me feeling queasy and weak in the knees. Another gut-wrenching cramp and I doubled over as I fell to my knees, tears burning beneath my eyelids. I moaned, closing my eyes tightly as I tried to take slow deep breaths and ride the pain. I confess I was scared, the amount of blood seemed excessive in comparison to my past periods and I felt apprehensive that maybe something was wrong.
When more blood oozed out of my body and onto the cement floor that I had just managed to wipe clean, I finally lost my last shred of self-control and burst into sobs. The basement door opened, followed by the sound of quickened footsteps.
"KitKat are you alright?! Where are you?" There it was again,
concern
. I crawled backwards, hiding around the corner of the small room that housed the washer and dryer. Between the waves of pain all I could think about is how much I didn't want him to see me like this.
"Please, go away!" I cried. Embarrassed didn't cover what I was feeling in that moment. This was worse than those dreams where you show up naked to school. But of course, he didn't listen to me, instead he knelt.
