Calamity

Chapter 3

I want to see it where I couldn't when it happened.

I want to see it all firsthand this time.

I want to know what it felt like.

I laid there lifelessly on the bed as Ace tied his shoelaces at the foot of the mattress, leaving his baby blue shirt unbuttoned and pants unzipped. His blonde hair was dishevelled, and his face was aligned with light pink scratches from where I clawed at him. He had a fair amount of bruises and scars along his lightly tanned torso – none caused from me – and also I noticed one or two love bites from women he probably found on the streets.

He rose from the bed, leaving me naked on the mattress as he nonchalantly walked out of my bedroom, not even glancing over his shoulder to bid farewell. He left me here, exposed, beaten, drugged, and weak from – what he refers it to – my ‘weekly rent’, as I do not pay money to live in this god awful place.

I was in an immense amount of pain, ranging from all over my body. My scalp ached from being tugged; my wrists throbbed from the rope, my torso sensitive from his teeth, and most of all, my centre stung and felt like it was on fire. I had never experience pain like this before.

I’ve been punched, stabbed, strangled – you name it, but nothing compared to having losing your virginity, especially when the activity didn’t hold my consent, and he held no mercy. I was never the same after that night. I had no idea it was coming, and I had no clue in how to defend myself, or to get him to stop before it was too late.

It completely changed me.

I’ll never look at myself the same way. When I stare at myself in the mirror, I can feel myself crumbling from the inside with fear and fury – I’m so angry about what he did, but I’m too scared to do anything about it. I’m constantly shaking whenever I have to undress myself – whether people are around or not – and whenever I’m around him, I'm instantly reminded of the pain and suffering he’s caused.

Ace would usually drug me, not because it was less painful that way, but so I wasn’t capable to defend myself against him at my best ability. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still unbearable, but I can barely register what’s going on with the effect of the drug.

The worst of it all is when I come to. It’s when the drugs have worn off, and I have to walk to the bathroom to take a long, scorching shower. Because of the agony, it takes me several attempts to roll off my bed without inflicting more pain upon my body; my legs are barely able to hold my weight, so when I’m in the shower, I sit down and let the pelting water burn my back.

It hurts so badly, but I feel so… filthy. So disgusting.

I sit under the shower for at least an hour, which is until, Ace demands I get out of the bathroom.

It’s horrible. It’s all so, fucking horrible.

But the thing was, I wasn’t just Ace’s. I was shared between him and Milo.

As bad as Ace is, Milo was worse – much, much worse.

Milo doesn’t drug me, Milo doesn’t let me shower, Milo doesn’t allow me to recuperate afterwards.

I’m a rag doll – a lifeless, pathetic, ugly, rag doll. That’s all I am to them, nothing more, nothing less.

But now, after reading that note I was given yesterday, my emotions were – as if they weren’t already – thrown across the room, scattered, jumbled and confused. I thought I would’ve been filled with joy, knowing Harry was out there, that escape was so close and possible. But I didn’t.