The smell of metal and gasoline, a dirty place.
Coming to in complete darkness. Rolling back and forth on her side, no arms. Where were they? Tied, tied behind. Knees tucked in so as to fit. Feet also tied… like a pig.
The stocking was making her gag. Too tight. Her tongue was swollen where it had been bitten. It must have been a horrible fight. Starving, parched. Blood flowing. It was hers. She sucked it in, drank it. Disgusting. Gagging, but strong willed. She was weak. She knew it was the right thing to do.
Memories: the woozy feeling at the bar after one drink. Drugged, led away, knowing it was wrong, bad. Wanting to yell out but unable to speak, hearing that man tell everyone he’d take her to the hospital, he’d take good care of her, she’d be okay… but did he intend to take her like this: naked, bruised and tied in a trunk?
A flicker of the dark empty parking lot: the pain of a smashed cheek. The hammer, how it came crushing in from the side.
The worst pain of all: her mother encouraging her to waitress at that snazzy club. She remembered the proposition and the cash, the emptiness beneath the glamour. She remembered her bad decision, and that this was only her very first trick…
© kym darkly