The Ruins

Chapter 19

The day came soon enough. She stood at the bottom of her bed looking out at the window with all of her friends coming back from talking to Charlie. She hated them to go alone but they don't look sick or afraid. She re-focused on what to say and then she was...ready? Not quite the word, she'd never be ready for this. Vomit seemed to be a constant presence in throat as the day she left for Charlie's crept closer, the acid burning away from her. Walking into his place is the worse kind of torture. It's walking through absolute hell.

She rubbed her eyes, sleep hasn't come easy the previous night. She'd tossed and turned, unable to sedate her mind that persisted in showing her dark visions of what to expect in today and the next couple of days before the week is off. Deep down she always knew that no matter what her mind showed the reality would be worse.

She was shaken from her thoughts by a knock on the door. A voice shouted through downstairs.

"Miss Mal? We're ready to take you."

She sighed and realised she couldn't put it off much longer, and dragged herself downstairs. Her friends were with the kids and their sight were bland, quiet. She wanted to talk about what Charlie say or did but ignored and headed straight outside with two guardsmen following her behind. When coming through the main streets, in clear sight is the tall gloomy apartment. So tall it overpowers the whole place, hidden with dark secrets.

Mal strode the streets, eyes downward to her feet and at times look up, the apartment is getting closer and closer, drawing her into the depths of horror. She could hardly breath and focus. Then the guards stopped at the entrance.

Then as she enters, the door closes behind her.

The air is thick of dust and pollen, the sunlight reflecting it all. The wallpaper torn by scratch marks of Infected before, patches of mold seamed through the dark flower tinted wallpaper. Fresh vines grew along the edges of the walnut hardwood floors, big leaves as well.

Cautiously glancing at the stairs, her hand reaches the case and takes a step of each stair, creaking as her foot is placed, gliding her hand at the dusty case.

Upstairs, the large hallway had drawers with potted plants of flowers. The flowers are orchids. All pure white, too white it made them fake yet deadly to its appeal. It's why Charlie likes them. To cover the scent of alcohol and blood, to show affection behind the sinister thoughts. And then is the large two-way oak door.

Mal prepares for anything, reminding herself the damaging memories that foretold in this particular room and the next room beside his oak desk. That particular room, the dark room, haunts her entire blood and bones.

She could remember hardly breathing, practically choking and she was hot... too hot... sweating even without clothes. She couldn't speak, her tongue too dry, her throat raw, the metallic taste of blood lingered at the back of it. Her throat from all the screams that had been torn out of her. More pain shot through her, strands of hair ripping out of her scalp as her head was forced backwards, the hand pinning down her hands causing her neck to arch back unnaturally, keeping her pinned down, bent forward. Even the heavy hard chains around her wrists offer more aching pain bolting around her body.

"Tell me you want it." He breathed more heat in her ear.

"I don-AH." The hand twisted her hair tighter.

"Tell. Me."

"N-" The 'no' caught in her throat, whipped away by a pained gasp as her body was forced open. "N-AH, s-sto-" Stopstopstopstopstop please stop.

He pulled out and she was shoved onto her back, legs pushed apart, her arms straight up automatically, she didn't want to see him, didn't want to see any of it, she rather cross them over her eyes. She wasn't lucky. Almost immediately one hand gripped painfully at her throat, nails dug their marks into the skin there.