Opus Dei

Seven

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC AND VIOLENT SEXUAL SCENES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 

I want to take a second and thank every single one of you who took a minute to write me a message and ask about this story, I love you lots for that.

I will be posting constantly from now on, and I hope you enjoy. :)

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The bitter taste of blood fills my mouth and I am dizzy before I can even open my eyes. I try to adjust to the dark but my vision is too blurry so before I can notice that I am basically thrown like a used Kleenex in what seems like a concrete box my eyes sting as if I had been stung by at least ten bees. Refusing to remember how I got here or to check the state that I am physically in I focus on scrutinizing the place where I am currently situated.

Concrete walls, concrete floor and a grey iron door form my current cold environment. I put both of my shaking hands on my head as if trying to squeeze a solution or an explanation out of my mind. When I come to terms with the fact that I have been brutally abducted fear shots through me like a thousand knives, my body failing to listen to my coherent impulses, the very few that I have left, and calm down.

Even though I wish I didn't, I clearly remember how it happened, and that the fact that I am here right now is closely tied to my episode with Vincent in the parking lot. What I fail to realize as I frantically move around my cage is why would anybody think that I am of any type of interest to this man. In his world, I am a worthless sand grain that doesn't even deserve to be murdered. Or to live. I just am, no importance or relevance. This feeling of insignificance burns me inside out and, ignoring the soring pain that takes over my body, I run like a maniac to the iron door and start slamming my fists repeatedly and as hard as I can on the cold, lifeless metal. I realize that the deafening sounds that I keep hearing are my own desperate screams.

I get thrown on the floor so hard that I actually slide a few centimeters on my back. The pain grows to such an extreme that I find it impossible to properly exhale. The man that opened the door looks at me as if I had tried to murder him, when in fact I might be the one he gets to murder. All because of...him.

He is fat, the gross type of fat. The one whose belly hangs dramatically over his belt, the one who has hairy ears and a thousand types of pimples. The one who has shit instead of brains. And by the way he approaches me, with a smug smile over his face, his front tooth missing, he is about to prove me that I am correct.

"Throwing a party here, beautiful?" He probably thinks he's funny, because the statement is followed by a vomit of a laugh, the type that little kids fear on cartoons.

He abruptly stops right beside me, his disgusting feet so close that I can clearly observe that probably he has been wearing those same metal-type boots for at least two years. The dirt on them makes a clear statement on this guy's life style. His knees come to view when he bends down, so close that the smell of his sweat covers the sharp blood one that I had been feeling.

"I am going to do you a favor and tell you that you can scream as long and as loud as you can, but it won't help you get out of here. Not until he pays." Of course, he is referring to Vincent. I can feel each thump of my heart beating in my knees, my mouth dry, my mouth feeling as if someone had glued it shut.

Somehow, I manage to give him a piece of key information he seems unaware of, "He doesn't give a shit about me, he doesn't even know me."

Given the fact that the pain that I was feeling threw me in a state of numbness I hear it before I can feel it. By the time I realized that he had slapped me, my face was turned to the left and my right cheek was burning as if he had set fire to it.

"Don't you dare lie to me, you worthless slut." I thought the whole point of this was that I was worth something, otherwise he wouldn't have taken me. My tears and fear keep me from opening my mouth and confronting him on this. "You think I didn't see your little romantic moment? You two were so lame, looking like Romeo and Juliet ready to run together. Careful, J, you might die before a wedding is even planed this time."

Shakespeare must be crying wherever he is right now. "You're a piece of shit, you know that? Who do you think you are? You're an animal, and you are the one who deserves to die." The words are whispered, but I know he heard them because I can see his features darken.

"He will come for you, I know he will, and when he does, he will have a surprise. I will make sure his pie has been tasted. Roughly." The moment his words register in my mind and I nearly faint from fear coincides with the moment that he abruptly gets up and leaves the room, laughing.

I get up, my fear taking a physical form and transforming itself in pain, pain that shoots through me as if my blood is boiling, pain that makes me cry so hard that I can't see straight, or walk straight. I go to the nearest corner, crumple on the ground and hug my knees tightly to my chest. What did I do to deserve this? Who is this man, and why a simple conversation with him lead to my being taken away like this, with people who are ready to do such things to me? I feel fear, I feel trapped in a purgatory, one I can't escape, not alive, not dead.

I don't know what do to, how to save myself. I somehow know there is no chance of survival for me, and I hate him, I hate myself for letting him stay around me for another minute after what happened to Kendall. I pray that he would come for me, I pray that when the door opens and I lift my gaze it will be him, and he will take me as far away from here as possible.

But when the door opens it's not him. I register the images in my mind without any type of sound, maybe my ears are failing me because of my crying. The gorilla from before comes to me, and yanks me up by my hair. I am sure that I am bald on parts of my scalp now, but this pain is insignificant compared to the one I feel in my heart, the one fear inducted in me.

Such a silly girl, thinking that he would come for me. I got into this myself, and I have to pay for it, like a prostitute. If I get out of here alive, I won't ever be the same, and I will always remember this man, a man so powerful that his sole presence in my life ruined me completely.

I briefly register the man grunting something as he rips my clothes open and shoves me against a wall, a wall so cold, cold enough to freeze me right here in this moment and kill the old me. I think I faint at some point because I can't see or hear anything but when he thrusts into me from behind, and when I feel his sticky hands grab my shoulders I start yelling. It hurts, so bad. Now I wish I could faint, or die. Excruciating, murdering, disgusting. My tears, my cries, the feel of him on me, in me, all make me want to throw up.

I don't know when he finishes, when he leaves, if he leaves. It's all black, and I hope that I don't wake up. Ever again.

Briefly I think I do, because I feel that smell of him, and it makes me feel so safe, so secure, as if dirt hasn't been thrown on me so harshly, as if someone hadn't taken me away from...me.

With that smell surrounding me I fall into oblivion again, suspecting that his presence anywhere near me it's just my mind playing games on me. I have died, and he didn't come for me.