For guilt or For Love

Travel into bondage

As the whip traced yet another bleeding line across my back, I fought back a cry of agony; using the wall as a crutch to prevent myself from falling. I’d already realized that any show of weakness would only give my tormentor what he wanted.

It wasn’t an option to let him have even the smallest hint of a win. This was a childish game I played in my head. It was like an insult to his ego that he could not get me to cry. I actually enjoyed the fact that my strength annoyed and frustrated him. Any damage done to his pride was like an adrenaline boost for mine, besides why would I waste a tear on that pathetic excuse for a human. His anger only made me feel like I was winning a battle, but those small victories did little to help the pain.

Every time the whip hit my back it tore through my clothes and into my skin, causing my blood to dip and puddle thickly on the floor.  If my hands hadn’t been cuffed together I could have fought back, but unfortunately all I could do was keep my back to him and stop the blows from hurting anything too vital. I kept reminding myself of what he did to my mother; I kept the image of her mutilated body strong in my mind. It was a reminder of why I would not bow to this monster; why I would always know that I was above him even if he claimed supremacy.

“Never,” I snarled the word without realizing it; flinching as he yanked me around and slammed my bleeding back into the concrete wall. He didn’t say anything but he made his intent known by pulling a knife and slicing from the base of my left ear to the corner of my lip. No amount internal conflict could have kept that moan of pain and the tears that followed inside. As I fell to the floor, the salt from my tears stingy the wound and cuffs on my hands dug deeper into my skin. When I tried to push myself up off the floor gravity took over and I crashed into the ground as pain shot through my back and arms. He smiled at my weakness, “you’ll learn your place.”  As I got into a sitting position, he picked up that dreadful whip and struck me twice across the chest leaving a deep X when he was done he glared obviously pissed that I still hadn’t broken, “you’re a strong soul. I’ll give you that, but every stone has its fault” with that he back out of the room; taking his god forsaken weapon of choice with him.

I felt immediate relief when he left. Glad to be alone, I tried and failed to stand. I’d would have cussed and scream in frustration, but the pain drained away too much of my energy for that. So I laid on the floor half-conscious waiting for him to come back, well I tried to stay conscious; I passed out after about thirty minutes of fighting the unavoidable.

When I opened my eyes again sometime within the day that followed. I was in a completely different room, with no windows only a concrete door blending into the concrete walls. The only color came from the puddle of blood that had formed on the floor around me.

I passed out randomly all that day. I remember someone feeding me and bandaging my face I remember the blinding pain I felt every time I was moved but other than those simple things my memory is a blur of black and grey.

            In the next few days I regained some of my strength, but still they kept me in that dreary room, each day I paced like a caged animal my thought were full of the man that had beaten me. I knew he would come back but what would he do?

A few days later I got my answer; he came into the room with collar connected to a chain and a pair of handcuffs. I glanced up from my pacing as he sat the metal objects down.

That first hit was unexpected and forceful enough to knock me against the wall. "You dare stay standing in front of me" he said it like he was truly offended. How could that offend him I ‘m a human being am I not? I have the right to walk and stand. He was livid though, a vein on the side of his face throbbed like it would burst. I knew better then to laugh but it was difficult not to even from my position on the floor against the wall.

The second hit was expected and managed to block it with my hand. The pain wasn’t bad but I felt such revulsion towards him that it made me sick to my stomach.