Pushed & Pulled

Chapter 20: Bound and broken

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain. 

-Lord Bryon-

I realize this is so much worse. I can take a beating. I will take a beating every day before I let him violate my body, but he's not using physical harm now, he's breaking me down mentally first.

 I try to hold on, but I feel my mind breaking down piece by piece as I slowly drift in and out of consciousness. He injects me with a concoction a few times a day and it is taxing, rapidly taking a toll on my fragile mind. I suspect it's a mixture of a high doses of Ativan and morphine, but I can't be sure. When it hits my system, I can barely move; I can't think or keep a thought in my head. 

It's like my mind is in a thick fog and I'm riding on a carousel; spinning around and round but I'm not able to focus on any clear image only quick flashes of them. The pain in my head and over my body disappear, but I'm not sure if it's because of the medication or if my mind just can't focus on the pain. 

Right now, my body feels like concreate and the heaviness is suffocating. Thankfully, he let me keep clothes on, sticking to his earlier promise of not touching me until I beg for it, but I don't think he has that much patience. His words say one thing, but his eyes tell different story. He is a monster; I fear he will soon lose the battle raging inside himself, but I'm afraid he will succeed in breaking me first; first my mind, then my body..... then my soul.....until he owns me completely.  

I'm shivering but my veins feels like they're on fire; nausea courses through my body as I quickly throw my head over the railing of the bed to empty the slim contents of my stomach; I'm withdrawing. 

Every day he waits longer and longer increasing my suffering. I know exactly when he's coming too, because as soon as my mind starts to clear and the effects of the withdraw begin to subside a small fraction, he's there, next to me, with a syringe in his hand. Tears start pouring out of my eyes thinking about my impending doom. I can't go back into the fog. 

I hear the door open. I try to quickly pull myself from the edge of the bed, silently begging my body to move, but I feel like I'm moving in slow motion. I manage to scoot backwards until my body is against the wall. I sit up and lean against it trying to catch my breath. 

William steps forward and I pull against the restraints hold out my hands to try and stop him. He stops and a maniacal grin slowly spreads across his face. "Is my pet ready to give in?" He asks in a sadistic tone leaning his head to one side. 

I don't say anything right away since I know that whatever words come out of my mouth to attempt to stop him is going to come out like desperate plea. This is what he wants. I think to myself. Me to beg. More tears make their way down my face. I can feel them falling to my chest and running down my shirt. 

"Well?" He asks. I can tell by his tone he's getting impatient and I jump slightly at the sound of it. When I don't answer again, he grabs the restraints around my ankles and pulls me down onto the bed towards him. "Please!" I whimper. "Don't." His hands freeze on my legs as he looks down into my eyes. 

"Just give me one simple word Ambrosia and I make this all go away." He motions towards the syringe I hadn't notice on the small bedside table. I sob out load covering my face with my hands. My mind and body waging an internal battle and I yet to know the outcome. I unconsciously grab my necklace as soon as my hand wraps around the cold silver I visibly relax as Cameron pops into my mind.