I must say, it's been about three years since Ive seen authentic light, -- not his cheap 10 dollar over head light he uses to light his path down the wooden stairs. A greedy bastard is what he is. Can't own up to his faults and crimes. Can't risk being found out.
I Check my watch, 5:27 and get up from the steps and go over to my cot and grab the blanket, attempting to cover up my used and abused body and travel up the stairs since it's about time He's getting off from work and I'M supposed to greet him when he unlocks the cellar doors.
. I let out a sigh and wait obediently at the top of the stairs banging my head against the door. Until I hear the rattle of the keys rubbing up against eachother as he turns the one key that holds me captive in this lifeless, horrid place. Straightening up my posture and flashing my most dearest smile I could manage to pull off without the fury of the memories He's burned into my mind and the sharp pronged collar jabbing into my neck that I'M forced to wear with a tag labeled, "SLUT" .
Leave it to him to feel the need to humiliate his prey anymore than he has. The beating, the crawling, and the constant groping. He seriously needs to add to that? I roll my eyes and shake the attitude away from my face and stare down at the doorknob as it turns and I'M flooded with light that seeps into the cold dark room I stand in and fills the corners. It's nothing more than a room light but compared to the dimness I'M used to, it's practically blinding.
"Ah, Clara." He breathes out, "How nice is it to see you... Oh wait. What's this? " he tugs at the blanket I'M pressing up against my body. "I'd like to see the work I've done. Drop the blanket. " I refuse stubbornly and look away and perse my lips. I can feel the anger behind his eyes by this. It feel like it's burning through my skin and somehow hipnotizing me to feel guilty. But I'd never show him that. "I said, drop the blanket " he says in a more stern louder voice. "You'll loose it... " I look at him with a look, half pleading and half hatred. He must have known the last half and rips the blanket away from me and throws it back. I watch as it lands softly on the wooden floor.
He turns me around with tight movements and pushes the back of my neck with his fingers, wanting me to walk down the stairs. I start walking reluctantly down the steps and turn left where the cot is and kneel down hanging my head low.
His fingers caress my shoulder and lowers them till They're tracing the etchings of the long thin scars he'd produced on my back. I gained those marks from recently trying to knock him out with a chunk of wood from the railing on the stair. That had also been the reason for my twisted wrist.
He moves closer and I can feel the fabric of his pants press against my skin and I tense up. He hasn't done anything sexual to me for a while now. I think Thats Because my looks have been fading. I haven't gotten any proper hygiene since I'M trapped down here with nothing but a bucket Thats emptied out every once and a while, a cot with a provacative outfit that practically hangs off my skeleton body laying onto of it.
He pulls me up and I turn around and slowly meet his eyes. He's got the most unnerving eyes I think I've ever seen. They're a blue gray that almost blend in with his short buzzed hair. He is pretty scrawny but his looks sure do fool you. He's hiding his muscles under his white Tshirt. Apparently he enjoys going to the gym and working up a sweat Because it seems like every time he wraps his arms around me its stronger than the last.
