The Artess

11. Six Feet Below

Song of the Chapter - One Way Or Another - Until The Ribbon Breaks

Carmen

My eyelids lay laden, and despite the annoyance, pieces of my eyelashes stick to the skin in the corner of my eyes. The heaviness of my tears weigh down the feather-like strands for so long that it eventually becomes harder for me to blink. My eyes, automatically searching for light, find none. Instinctively this drives my inner lenses crazy and immediately I feel a reciprocating dizzying feeling as I try to remain standing upright.  I knew my eyes were open, but yet my vision remains blurry, dark, and useless. Where the hell am I?

Deep in the pit of my stomach; despite not having any vision, I already know something is severely wrong. I try so desperately to put this nuance in the back of my mind. If I begin to think of all the abominable creations that may be happening on the other side of my blindfold, then I would give up on my survival altogether.

My ears pick up on what I can only explain as mumbling. I can't hear what they was saying, but I could distinguish between the different voice tones, which means that there are more than two people in the same room with me. The murmurs seem to mostly consist of male tones, but the odd female voice made it easier for me to re-focus my count.

I gave up after I reached twenty-three, after that everything else began to sound the same.

A hand presses firmly against my shoulder. The action makes me anxious, so I writhe my upper body to rid myself of the insistent hand.

"Don't move." A shallow, but firm voice indicated. The gag between my teeth prevents me from forming any sort of coherent wording, but I made my point clear through my actions. I continue to shake my body: my torso convulses, my elbows try to jab backwards, and even my feet try to kick, but the one hand soon became two, then four, then six. I was literally outweighed, I was pressed to the ground by three heavy men. On my way down I manage to hit someone in the stomach, they huff in pain above me as my jabs intensify while on the ground.

My breathing becomes more erratic as the air coming in from around the gag develops into smaller, and smaller portions from the men practically sitting on me. The crack of a slap becomes audible before I feel the sting.  My matte hair flings to the opposite side of my face, and before I can get my hands in front of me, my head bounces off of the floor taking most of the blow. A bulky boot kicks against the side of my left thigh just below my bottom. I hear my own torturous scream as I try to reach my hands to the blindfold.

I can feel the heat in my cheek and the throbbing shoot up my thigh as I am forced from the ground and back into an upright position. "Move one more fucken limb, so help me God you won't ever be able to walk straight again." The accent played off his tongue.

I suck back a whimper, refusing to sulk.

The room full of mumblers never settles. No gasps leave any lips, no one calls out for help, in fact, the conversations grow louder if anything.

My hands are still fixed together, and the circulation seems to be hitting everywhere but my fingers as they become agonizingly numb. Time travels slow, but I had no choice other than to silently ignore the excruciating pain in my upper thigh, and remain standing. I had to wait for the right opportunity.

The incredibly noxious smell of tobacco smoke mingled with the sweet scent of floral. The odd concoction quenched my urge to vomit, and I had to force my saliva down my throat to keep it from crawling back up. I couldn't afford to throw up again, my stomach was already rumbling with hunger and to lose more would only hinder my endurance. 

Suddenly, I heard shuffling next to me. The sound of whimpering filled my right ear. I heard someone's foot scuff the floor, an apology, and then the noise of a strap meeting flesh. It amplified throughout the room, past the murmurs and up along the walls.