When They Fell

Chapter 10: Broken

Rebecca's POV:

I gasp for air.
"Breathe bitch!" I hear him exclaim as my head is pulled from the bucket of water and the freezing cold liquid splashes onto my bruised legs. My head is shoved back into the tight space and I don't resist his force. He only likes it when I fight back.
I feel as my body is thrown on the cold ground and the rest of the water is splashed onto me.
"You ain't no fun anymore." He chuckles and slams the door shut. I hear the clicking of several locks. That means he's not coming back for the day. He's already fed me my one meal and I've been beaten 16 times today. Raped 7. I keep count under the bed frame he gave me.
There's no mattress. He said I'd have to work for that. It's just an empty bed frame that's been sitting in this room for God knows how long.
I stopped counting how long if been in here after 3 months 2 weeks and 6 days. That's the number I carved into the ground. My birthday passed. I know that for sure because Cooper made sure to celebrate. I was raped 26 times that day.
When he leaves for the day, that's my only time to have peace and quiet and carve my idiotic statistic into the cold, plastered floor. There's a small mirror that's not too far from where he has me tied up.
I can almost make it to every part of the room except for the corners. He has a metal leash around my neck like I'm some sort of fucking animal. Maybe I am an animal. A bitch. That's his favorite name for me.
I sit by that mirror every night and examine the damage. That is, when I can. Sometimes I'm beaten so hard that my eyes are swollen shut. I'm so used to the pain.
Just looking at myself makes me disgusting, however. I start with my feet. There's a popped blood vessel on the side of my right foot and 3 of my toes are dislocated. There's a big lump at top of my left one that I'm pretty sure is a sprain. Both of my legs have bruises on them. My right knee is fractured and my left knee has popped out of its socket. Again. My thighs are bruised with hickeys from the nasty pig and many scars. My hip is broken. Which side, I'm not sure. I just remember a cracking sound when he beat me with a screw driver a few weeks ago. My stomach is caved so far in that it seems as if it's a sheet of paper. My ribs are cracked on both side and both my ribs and stomach are purple. My chest is covered in hickeys and there is a slice above my heart. My neck is covered in bruises from the collar that barely has enough wiggle room to move up and down and my face. My face. I've never been able to look at my face and I don't think I want to. I've always been disappointed with the features, even before it was badly beaten. I can't imagine what my reaction would be now. I sit here with no expression. Im ready to die.