Page 29 of Our Little Dove

So, as the typing continues, I steel myself against the impending storm. Each keystroke may bring pain, but not in the way I expected.

I’m hurt by the fucked-up video, by their sick games but I’m hurt that I don’t know who they are, and they have made it nearly impossible for me to find them.

With every hurtful word being typed as I see the three small dots bounce on the screen, I mentally list every detail I remember of that building.

God, I was drugged… Are my memories even real? Can I trust my own mind?

Unknown:

Typing…

Maybe I should go to the cops?

Unknown:

Take this as your warning Alex. If you run your little ass to the cops, we’ll play a much different game. Youknow we don’t mind a little blood. See you soon, little Dove.

Is that a threat? Are they threatening to kill me?

In an instant, I become dizzy as the recollections of the previous night crumble like fragile glass, revealing the actual peril I had unknowingly faced.

I wanted to find them. I wanted…them. But this is all just a fucking game to them. With a naïve and utterly disposable girl who fantasized about being kidnapped.

Any moment could have turned disastrous, and I would have remained oblivious to the fact that it was all fuckingreal.

They know my name. They have my number. What else do they know about me? Do they know where I live? All I know about them is that one has piercings, the other has tattoos, they both have subtle Irish accents and their names which are likely fake.Fintan and Kieran.

Two weeks later

Ihave been isolating myself for weeks after I went to Molly’s and received that horrific video. Healing the scars they left on my body, but I still feel like I am bleeding inside.

I have been working and going to the grocery store, but I haven’t seen or really spoken to Joel or Molly.

Last night was the second time I rewatched the video in its entirety and while the events are fucking sick and depraved, I focused on them instead of myself. The image of myself naked, bleeding, and unconscious is burned into my psyche and I doubt I will ever get over that.

I sit in the living room, alone with my thoughts and a flickering television screen.

Supernatural is on, I think.

I hold up my phone, adjusting my eyes to its brightness as my fingers tap on the screen with a mix of desperation and determination.

Opening the video again, I inhale a heavy breath as I ready myself for what I know I’m about to witness. Again.

Each time it replays, I convince myself that re-immersion into the haunting scenes will somehow lessen the pain and betrayal I feel. I want to desensitize myself to it, but it seems impossible.

My heart pounds against my chest, matching the rhythm of the way they fuck me on the screen. The room fades away, consumed by the darkness that engulfs me as I delve into this horrifying clip.

It unfolds like a grotesque dance, each movement a jagged step towards my own unravelling. A chill runs down my spine as I witness my body being violated, every moment a reminder of the depths of depravity that exist within my captors. I cannot tear my eyes away from the screen, imprisoned by this perverse fascination.

Why am I still surprised that they sent me this fucked up video? They never said anything, from the bits and pieces I remember, that would make me think they weren’t insane. They were honest and open about their intentions from the beginning. They never lied to me.

My goal is clear - scour every frame for any overlooked detail that might aid me in finding them. Kieran and Fintan.

Tonight, however, feels different. As I continue to watch the video, a disturbing mix of emotions floods over me. The initial feelings of betrayal, anger, and detachment are still there, but now they are accompanied by something else.

A dark and twisted desire begins to stir within me, like a slow-moving drug seeping into my veins. It’s a need that I can’t ignore, and as I witness the two masked men using my body, it becomes almost overwhelming.

My heart races and the urge to touch myself becomes irresistible. As disturbing as it may be, this newfound craving pushes me to delve deeper into the details, determined to track them down and exact my revenge.