The Art of Chaos and Darkness

Chapter Twelve

The floor was slick with filth and grit.

Light filtered in through the windows, casting moving shadows throughout the bare concrete room. Valda sat in the corner, on a dirty, threadbare mattress. She curled into a ball, her knees pulled up tight to her chin. Goosebumps rose on her bare flesh, the little clothing she wore was not for the purpose of keeping warm.

She stared at nothing, eyes dark and empty. Dirty smeared across her face and her hair was matted and tangled. Someone pounded on the door and Valda jumped.

"You're up, girl! Let's go!"

Valda rose unsteadily to her feet. Her legs trembled as she walked out the door and down the narrow hall, between the two enormous men. Valda was pushed through a curtained doorway and she drew back with a soft gasp at the sudden onslaught of light and noise. Her bare feet stepped on the sticky tile of the stage as lights flashed her way. Men in the crowd jeered and held up credits. Liquor sloshed over the rims of cups. Greedy eyes beheld her near naked body. Her skin crawled as if there were insects covering her. The announcer grabbed Valda arm, jerking it away from her face. The men roared louder.

All the sound eddied out from her head as she was being pulled off the stage and out a side door. She stood in the shadows and a man gripped her by the jaw.

"Open."

She opened her mouth and he dropped a single white tablet onto her tongue. It dissolved with a biter taste. Credits exchanged hands as Valda's limbs grew stiff and heavy. The world slowed and faded around her.

"She's all yours for the night. Make sure these are the correct coordinates so she can be collected in the morning. She is property of the Hutt Cartel. Do not break the rules."

The three men that nodded were dressed similarly. Hoods drawn up and over their faces. Valda never got a glimpse of their features. Their voices sounded the same to her too, cruel and rough. Their touch on her left an oily, dirty.

She was escorted to the room chosen where they drank and grew more intoxicated, leering at her, grabbing at the little clothes she wore. She fought the instinct to bat their hands away, to draw back into the corner. It would only encourage them further. Valda watched them through half opened-eyes, felt their hands pawing at her in a dissociated way.

These men were no different from her previous encounters. They delighted in not only her obvious discomfort and unwillingness but her physical pain. Their blows sent her frail body flying across the room, skin split and blood mixing with tears and sweat. They ripped her hair from her scalp. They beat her until she was bruised and battered. They cut her until blood ran in so many thin streams across her skin she was bathed in it.

And when they were done, they left Valda on the floor naked and bruised and bleeding. She didn't sleep, she didn't feel the pain or the cold. Her cheek pressed against the gritty floor, eyes staring blankly at the wall in front of her. The light turned slowly grey and gold with the dawn and finally the door flew open. Rough hands hoisted her to her feet and carried her away.

She knew in a few short hours she would end up in the same room as before, then the same stage and then in a different room but with the same types of men.

And the cycle would repeat.