𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬

33. No Fun Title.

T H I R T Y - T H R E E
No Fun Title.

TW: David, and everything that comes along with him.

The metal doors swing open and a small piece of my soul withers up and dies. Dread mingles with despair in the pit of my stomach. I thought I knew evil, but David is something else. He's Hell's basement, he's the boogeyman, he's more intimidating than a thousand Clickers. I have never met a man who has made me feel so frightened, David makes me feel like the little girl who was scared of dead spiders. Growing up with everything so corrupt weeds out the weak, I thought I was one of the people who could withstand the world—I was wrong. 

If I, by some miracle, make it out of here, a part of me won't escape. It'll be left in this cage for eternity to suffer and remind me of what happened and who happened.

James follows David as they storm into the cold, lifeless room where a kind of evil that would churn the stomachs of even the most hardened survivors occurs. 

Running on instinct my body tries to put space between me and the wolves in sheep's clothing, devil-ish men hiding behind the Bible, finding verses and excuses to justify their atrocities. I scramble to my feet and back myself against the rusty chain link, my fingers curling around the wires like that would keep me safe from the men.

The sound of metal shaking as David unlocks the cage sends icy terror shooting through my veins, and hysteria begins consuming me as I get closer to my fate. "No!" I scream, voice cracking with petrified desperation. "No! No!" My body shakes with anticipation of what the men are going to do to me. The door swings open and I make eye contact with David, his eyes are full of hate. I debate begging for mercy, telling him that I'll do whatever sick things he has in mind. But the pleas would not only fall on deaf ears, but would only give him more satisfaction in winning.

James rushes inside, reaching out to ensnare me, arms locking around me as I thrash out of pure instinct. I don't want him to touch me, it feels like a python coiling around my body, with the expectation that every breath I take the muscles tighten around me, each precious breath is shallower until I can't open my lungs at all and I'm left to gasp for oxygen. I'm flung against the chain links, my weight against it makes the cage shake. David runs over. The coils trapping me constrict, my lungs tighten. "Get off me!" I sob, helplessness bleeds into a type of fright I haven't ever reached.

It's a fight my brain doesn't decide to fight in, my body just does. I'm flinging myself, attempting to shake off the arms of men far stronger than me. I'm weak, everything I've deprived myself of makes my efforts weak no matter how much I push myself. "Get off!" I scream, biting the first sign of flesh that comes near me. I don't know whose flesh but someone groans and a knee is driven into my stomach. I let out a defeated whimper as it knocks the air from my lungs. I hear the sound of fabric ripping and the neck of my thermal shirt getting stretched out. Eventually, when one of the men has each of my arms, they just drag me out. My feet try to press into the tiles but just end up doing nothing to stop me from finally getting what I want—being out of the cage. "Wait, wait!" I cry, tears running down my face.

They lift my exhausted body and slam it down on the wooden table with a dull thud, underneath the very table the ear lay carelessly discarded. Even when both the battle and war are over I don't stop fighting, not until I'm dead and gone will I stop fighting.

"Don't! Don't do it! Please don't!" I scream as I'm pinned down. The feeling of not being able to move makes my heart rate increase so far it has to stop at some point.

"You had your chance." David shakes his head at me.

The cleaver raises and I scream the first thing that comes to mind. "I'm pregnant! I'm pregnant. Don– you can't kill my baby!" I cry, looking at them. "Please. It's a baby, it didn't do anything wrong. It doesn't–" I hiccup a sob, "it doesn't deserve this."