Open

Abyss

I jumped from my slumber to the sound of a door closing. I was too weak to cover the bloodied skin of my thighs and stomach with the itchy blanket that was left in this cell. I was leant against the stone wall of the room facing the opposite direction of the newcomer so I had to tilt my head a little in their direction. The pain from being dragged across the house was catching up to me and all I felt was the cuts and gashes on the lower-half of my body that covered in bruises. 

My breathing was labored as I watched the outline of the person standing across the room. We stayed in this scenario for about seven minutes; me watching the dark outline and the dark outline watching me. After a while I'm too tired to play this game with them and submit my defeat by tilting my head away from the direction of the person. It is quiet with only the sound of my ragged breathing and the darkness to complete the silence. Heavy feet shuffle to me. I flinch from the incoming contact and knowledge of what is to happen to me. When they come up to my legs my breathing becomes more erratic and I shut my eyes in preparation for whatever torment is to happen to me. 

Soon I feel the large hands of a man rub across my legs and I start to whimper. The memories of Mr. Hudson come back to me and thoughts of this man doing worse scares me. My eyes are shut even tighter and the tears begin to roll down my cheeks. 

"Please—don't," I beg of him. He stills his movements with his hands on my calf. He removes them and I hear more shuffling as if he is looking through a bag. The next thing I know I feel the pain of alcohol being poured on my wounds. I cry out from the contact but I try to stay strong so as to not show more weakness to him. He digs into his bag again and wipes the running alcohol off my leg and applies a thick gel all over. Although I know he is helping me, the contact hurts me on the inside more than it does physically. He applies gauze all around my leg making sure it covers all of the wounds and is tight enough to not hurt me. I start to whimper when he reaches my inner thigh but he tries to relax me by making soft shushing noises. He continues to wrap the gauze and finishes at my hip. 

He did the same with my other leg and we went through the same routine with me thinking he was going to take advantage of me. After he was done he packed up his supplies and started to leave. But before he could reach the door I had to ask him a question. 

"When can I leave?" My voice resounded throughout the room as a scratchy echo. He never moved after I questioned him so I thought he didn't hear me clearly. 

"When can I—"

"I am sorry," he said with actual sorrow. When he spoke my eyes basically bulged out of their sockets. How could he allow this to happen to me? Was this his intention all along? I should have known from that six hour drive that something was suspicious besides the fact that he "likes his privacy." In a matter of seconds I felt rage, sadness, and pity. Pity for a man who goes out looking for innocent women to torture because he is messed up in the head. 

"How can you do this to me? I have done nothing to deserve this treatment! All I did was walk in my bedroom to see who was at my door. Why would you put me in here?" I interrogated him in a calm manner in case he was to turn abusive. 

"It would be hard to understand...if I were to tell you," He told me in an equally calm manner, "I will just wait for you to heal enough for you to walk again and continue your duties. I will have you replaced in your room afterward. It seems that my housekeeper was misunderstood in my directions on taking care of you after the event that happened last night. I am sorry this has happened to you, I will triple your current pay if you continue to work and never speak of what has happened here."