Untangle Me

Chapter 8

Giada

Being walked back to my cell by two guards while looking the way I did was the most degrading thing I've ever had to go through. I tried to fix my clothes and hair and wiped most of the mess Vince had made away with my napkin but I wasn't fooling anyone. The guards knew. Of course, they did.

Now I'm back in my room, feeling sticky and disgusting. There's nothing I can do about it though. I tried my best to wash myself in the small sink next to the toilet in the adjoined room but it was not enough. I can still feel the fantom of Vince's hands on me, can still feel him between my legs with each movement.

Other than that, I was given no clothes to change into. Nothing to sleep in but my -sorry to call it that - crusty underwear and dirty clothes.

Fuck, it. I'm not some rabid animal to be kept in unsanitary conditions. I'm a human being, not a very great one if we consider I just let a monster fuck me on the dinner table and liked it, but still one with some kind of standards.

Ugh, I see how that statement might be laughed upon but I'll just ignore it.

Now, since I won't sleep naked surrounded by as many guards as I am, even though they're outside my cell and not allowed to touch me, I need new clothes. How do I plan on accomplishing that? You guessed it, by being a pain in the ass.

I start banging at my door, screaming my lungs out as I do so. Honestly, it feels kind of good. Believe it or not but I have some bottled-up emotions that have been waiting desperately for some kind of release. This seems to work.

No idea how long it actually takes, but by the time someone- by someone I mean another giant man- opens the door, my firsts are red and aching and my lungs are burning from all the yelling. The man looks down at me.

Literally down so hard I feel like a damn preschooler. Anyway.

"What?" he asks, clearly already done with me. What does he have to complain about? He should try to step into my shoes for an hour, then he can complain.

Eww, that sounded self-centered. Oh well.

"I need new clothes," I tell him, straightening my spine in a ridiculous attempt to seem less small next to him.

"I need a pay rise. What does your problem have to do with me?" he returns.

"Since I can't get anything myself, it has everything to do with you, quite frankly. Maybe I should rephrase it, get me new clothes," I say. Then, as an afterthought, "Please."

"That's not my job," he protests.

"Now it is. Listen, I don't care how you get them, I just care about getting into something clean. Tell your boss he can go fuck himself the next time if he has a problem with it. After all, he's the one that made the mess." For a few seconds, the guard just blinks at me. Then he shakes his head as if to clear his head and leaves the room, muttering "I'll take care of it," under his breath.

Would you look at that, ten minutes later I have a set of sweats and a shirt in my size along with fresh underwear. I thank the friendly giant sweetly to which he grumbles something before he walks off.

When I'm dressed properly, I crawl beneath the sheets of my bed and let exhaustion finally drag me under. I can face my thoughts and doubts and worries tomorrow. It's been too long since I last slept properly.

-

The next few days pass silently. So damn silently it drives me out of my mind. I'm not taken out of that bloody cell. Instead, my meals are brought here twice a day, so are my baths and fresh clothes.