Carnal

Chapter Two

My face no longer means anything. It never did, in a career where my body was the prize. Two dead, brown earthworms were twisted together in the shape of a circle and left on the white bathroom sink next to a ripped paper with an uneven heart drawn in what seemed like crayon. I felt like I only breathe on command, constantly telling myself to.

I stared into the mirror for too long. There was a long purple bruise on the side of my face and I could feel the tension from my temple to my jaw. For the past five minutes there have been occasional knocks on the bathroom door, small reminders that I was not alone. It was my second day here, and I had woken up to Weston's arm wrapped around my body locking me in an iron grip. The house was pitch black when I had woken up, allowing my thoughts to fester as I had nothing else to focus on. I was a dog here to be trained.

The repetitive knock on the door came again, almost mocking me. I swung the door open, ready to stare down the man who is keeping me captive to watch him bounce back, startled. I was reluctantly confused at this reaction, every encounter I had with my captor thus far had screamed primal, but this was surprisingly weak. Something inside my chest grew hungry. I stayed quiet and locked my eyes on his, feeling like if I broke eye contact first I would finally break down emotionally. He didn't take it as a challenge. Stepping up to me, his calloused, earthy smelling hand cupped my face. It smelled like he had been digging into dirt with his fingers.

"I promise eventually you'll like it here," His voice was small, muttered through tiny lips that curved upwards into a smile. My eyes analyzed his face, plush cheeks turning pink, but his eyes hard. "Mom took a while to adjust too. She was like you, from the city. She loved us though, and really did want to be here." The way his voice cracked at the end was almost like he was trying to reassure himself of that fact as well. His mother must have been gone before I got here. Maybe she escaped, had finally gotten sick of it - maybe his evil brute of a father killed her. I felt steadier today but the thought of being killed here made my head spin again.

"There's worms on the sink." My voice sounded disconnected from my body. My head felt miles and miles above my body.

His hand dropped my face too suddenly. He shoved me to the side and rushed into the bathroom in such an abrupt manner as I flinched. I stared straight ahead hearing him rustle in the bathroom behind me, at the small dismal room. It was so awfully undecorated it was insane to me anyone could live here. Just further proving the idea that these people were absolutely insane. The toilet flushed and Weston stormed past me, knocking me to the side slightly as he marched out of the room.

 I always wanted trouble, I searched for something to make me feel more than this empty cloud of grey that was my day to day and I walked into it. Now, all I could manage to do was crawl back into bed. I didn't care what was happening; I laid sore and lethargic, imagining being more warm.

I could hear voices booming from another side of the house, a smash and then silence. Digging my face further into the pillow I couldn't help but begin to weep into the sheet. The bed next to me sunk down and I felt a hand caressing my hair, moving it to the side as the heat of a body pressed down against mine. I kept my face pressed into the pillow, hoping if I didn't focus on this reality it would disappear.

"You're okay, he just wanted to welcome you," His voice trailed off, "Please don't be scared, it was just a gift." The pity in his voice was so evident it made my blood curl. Completely asinine, completely delusional and unaware of the fact that I was heartbroken I was stuck here for now, not because of some little worm souvenir that was left for me.

"Fuck this, fuck you!" I shoved him off my body on the bed, allowing the ache of rage to tear through my mouth as I spit, "I want to fucking go home! I don't care about any fucking worms!" The howl that left my chest was so animalistic it hardly felt like it was coming from me, and it seemed to startle Weston just as much as it startled me. But I didn't run, having learned my lesson from trying to escape these men.