Buzzing Again

Chapter 1: Surviving for buzzing red

The tip of the blade danced across my skin gracefully, leaving vile words in their wake. Vile words I was being branded by. Just when the words slut, whore, bitch, shit and dog started to heal, they were cut open again to ensure that I was always freshly rebranded.

"Whip her!" the main monster in charge of my torturous stay ordered. I knew that my body was starting to give in, but I was all the more joyful to be led like a lamb to the slaughter. I was ready to finally leave for good.

The tip of the whip bit into my skin, leaving an outpouring of blood and cruel streaks of broken flesh. After accidentally letting out a small, almost inaudible squeak, the second in command, Aadil, took it as his queue to start interrogating me once again. His name almost humoured me. How disappointed would his mother not be for naming him upright and just when he was anything but. As usual, he got nothing out of me. I was too stubborn and loyal to take a beating instead of giving up my seals. The least I could do for my family was sacrifice my life even if the life in me just didn't want to leave.

Deciding that I was no fun today after another round of raping, rebranding and beating me to a pulp, they left me to feel the sting of freshly drawn blood cascading down my body. The only clothing I've ever worn since my capture was a blanket of my own blood.

A faint buzzing noise grabbed my attention from the corner of my jail cell. I tried to turn around, but my restraints wouldn't let me. The buzzing came closer and stopped until I felt something walking on my fingertips. I tried to take a deep breath to allow myself to look up at my shackled wrists, but my bruised ribs caged my lungs with too much force.

I heard the buzzing again, but I already knew it was too late to get a glimpse of the buzzing. A single tear slid down my cheek and left a clean trail down my torso. If only I was strong enough to get a quick look. Maybe my Bee was coming for me.

I heard footsteps approaching my cell again. Suddenly buckets of piping hot water with washing detergent was thrown at me. My fresh wounds stung while I just prayed to die already. The hot water burned through my pores in the already humid desert climate. Cold water would be mercy and my captures never showed a woman mercy.

Once the guards rendered me clean enough, they placed a large stick in front of me with a burnt tube-like specimen on the tip. Noticing my hesitance to eat, one of the guards let out a guffaw while the other simply said "horse dick, extra crispy, extra burned". The more I stared, the more I felt myself zoning out. This prompted them to take their leave and I was grateful to be left alone once again. To be left alone in silence so that I could chastise myself for being so weak.

The sun beating my back was suddenly covered by a moving shadow provoking my heart to do happy flutters. Djamila, the main monster in charge's daughter, excitedly burst through the small window. Her excitement was short lived when she stopped in her tracks to study the damage done.

Aayan was the monster in charge, who loves to remind me that he is a gift from God, more like a gift from hell. He sent out the orders to ambush my seal team, and in an effort to give my family a running start, I tried to cover them but got captured in the process. I've become his personal whore, secret prisoner and punching bag ever since that gut-wrenching day.

"Hi" I muttered, but it came out more as a whisper that I was hoping Djamila could hear. Speaking hurt and the raspiness in my voice just never went away. My throat had been forcefully fucked raw too many times, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from speaking to the one source of solace.

"It's okay little one" I tried to cover, but it clear that she was disgusted. Finally coming in front of my shackled body, she surveyed the stick and frowned.

After a few minutes of intense gazing, Djamila finally looked up at my face and smiled. Remembering her belongings, she lifted her abaya and showed me the sackcloth wrapped around her waist. Slowly taking out the contents and avoiding the bloodwashed floor, she placed the book, hairbrush, pills and an apple down on the floor in a dry corner on the side.

Grabbing the pills, she stretched her hand out to my mouth but was too short to reach. I brought my knee to hip level and encouraged her to step up. Cautiously accepting my invitation and being the little climber she is, she stepped up on my knee and grabbed the bicep of my bound arm for grip. I tried to grit my teeth and stifle my cries as she dug into my wounds. Once she was comfortable, Djamila stretched her hands out in front of me with the pills nestled in the palm of her hands. I gratefully swallowed the pills knowing very well it would help with the pain and allow me to sleep peacefully.

Once Djamila was happy with my compliance she jumped down and made a beeline for her hairbrush. This time she snaked up my body, carefully avoiding my back, and brought the brush to my sculp. Each bristle carefully detangled my hair while she hummed. My hair surrounded my body like dead flowers covering a graveyard. Djamila pulled and proded on my hair until it was neatly braided and placed it in a low bun. After admiring her work, she carefully climbed down and headed toward the one thing I craved the most - something edible to fuel my body.

Djamila placed the hairbrush back down on the sink and grabbed her book and her apple.  Djamila stood in front of me with the book wide open while she thumbed through the picture illustrations to find some English words to read. She pointed to the red square and confidently said "reed squire". Then less confidently said "rid squire". Deciding to put an end to her confidence crumbing reading, I motioned with my head for her for stop and gently corrected her pronunciation of red square. After a few more attempts of practicing the pronunciation of red square herself, she beamed with pride and then pointed toward the apple.

"Red!" Djamila exclaimed while she pointed toward the apple, then to the red puddle forming beneath me. I tried to nod my head and she smiled. Djamila always came to me with the expectation of learning new English words and I happily complied by teaching her and offering as much guidance as possible, given the circumstances.

Finally putting an end to my agonising wait for something edible, Djamila once again snaked her way up my body like the expert climber she was and extended her hand holding the apple. She allowed the apple to hover in front of my mouth and motioned for me to take a bite. I gratefully bit into the apple, being careful to swallow slowly before taking another bite.

After finishing the entire apple and leaving the stem, Djamila climbed down, aggravating some wounds on the way. Djamila then wrapped the book and hairbrush back in sackcloth and lifted her abaya to tie the sackcloth around her waist. Djamila made her retreat while waving at me pronouncing the word "red" proudly.

I was always grateful for her visits and felt more human in her company. Once again I was enrobbed in solitude, but this time I sighed in relief at the memories of buzzing and red that lulled me to sleep.