Just One More Night

The beginning

        Quiet. The room was dark, cold and smelt like damp mold. The wind rushed through the window sending chills up my spine. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and tried to forget the horrendous nightmare that was clogging my thoughts. Over and over again it replayed in my head like a bad black and white horror film. Harmonious laughter flooded in from outside.  

     I slowly pulled the sticky sweat covered sheets off my body and trudged to the window. The glass was glazed with fog and the sharp wind took my breath away. I slammed the window down with enough strength to cause the glass to crack.

   "Great, just fucking Great" I swore under my breath.

     I grabbed the robe and slipped it on over my naked body. It pressed against my curves softly like a warm embrace. Moving to the hall I crept slowly and ascended down the stairs. They creaked with every step I took. Before i knew it like lightning fast in the night something caught my robe and I stumbled. I pulled myself up onto the wall to steady myself as I looked back. A nail had been pulled from the floorboard and ripped an gaping hole in my lace robe. Great. This is just great. I flicked on the downstairs light showing the empty, cold, eerie house I lived in. Acocrding to the realator many, many years ago it was a grand house. Walls the color of beautiful reds and rich whites. Now the colors had faded to grays and swirls of sticky amber.

    "Yo, fuck Dakota open the fucking door!"

     Rolling my eyes I let the robe fall open to reveal my curves and pulled my hair into a messy bun.

   "I'm coming" I called as I braced myself for the wind to roll off my body in cold hushed waves.

     I pulled the door open and saw Charles, the clearly intoxicated brute who I slept with when his wife was out of town. In seconds of the door being opened his hands wrapped around my throat and shoved me backwards. I slammed against the hallway wall and within seconds his lips found mine.  He pulled away briefly and led me to the basement, the place where my darkest secrets hid.

   "God you're such a slut Dakota." he purred the smell of alcohol sending shivers down my spine. "Sit." He pointed to my least favorite toy in the room, a chair with built in cuffs. They cut into your wrist and left bruises that hurt for weeks.

   I did as I was told and shivered as the cold metal was pressed tightly against my skin ready for the games to begin. Ready to be the slut I was known for. I was ready.