Page 64
Story: Patching Over (Roanoke, VA)
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Belle
“You can’t do this,” I hiss out, my teeth clenched against the pain radiating through my body.
“I can and will do whatever the fuck I want,” Alvin sneers, yanking my hair, once again, as he manhandles me by tossing me onto a cot. The arm with the dislocated shoulder has already been tied down, but I managed to kick him before he got the other arm trapped in the handcuff, which earned me a stinging backhand slap to the side of my face.
Despite the fact that everyone seemed to enjoy dinner, based on the fact that there was not so much as a crumb left when the meal concluded, something set Alvin off between the time I cleared the dishes and went into the kitchen to finish cleaning up, and when I came back out to head to the quarters where the women were being kept so I could get cleaned up and go to sleep.
Before I realized that the vibe in the main room was off, Alvin had grabbed my arm and dragged me into a room, where he then flung me through the door like a rag doll. When I crashed into the wall, a cry of pain burst free from my lips, causing him to laugh at my agony. The sinister tone that escaped his throat was frightening, and raised the hair on my arms as I scrambled to get up so I could get away.
“Oh, no you don’t, bitch. You’re mine now,” he seethed, before clamping one side of a handcuff around the wrist with the dislocated shoulder. Reflexively, when the pain exploded throughout my body, I lashed out with my feet, leading me to now.
As his anger detonates, he uses his fists on me, striking me wherever he can reach. Unfortunately, since my arms are bound, I can’t protect myself against his abuse, so he’s got plenty of real estate in which to inflict damage. My heart is pounding a mile a minute right now; I can hear the frantic beat in my ears, my small cries of pain are overshadowed by his harsh breaths. I don’t beg, though. I can’t, actually, since one of his blows shattered my jaw, but that doesn’t stop me from silently crying out for help.
“You’re going to love what I’m about to give you too,” he heckles, leering at me as his spittle covers his chin, causing me to shudder in disgust.
I’m equal parts horrified and grossed out because based on his words, I suspect my time has run out, and he’s going to take what I will never willingly give to him or any one of these fundamentalist fuckers.
“And once I’m done, I think I’ll let the other men have a turn with you too,” he advises, snickering. “Yeah, let’s see how high and mighty you are once we’re done fucking you in every hole you’ve got, you stupid bitch.”
Vomit claws its way up my throat, trying to restrict my airway, but I know in my current position and situation, I’ll choke to death, so once again, I swallow it down, tears of pain and horror streaking down my bloody and bruised face.
“I’m sorry, Sleeper, I tried,” I cry out in my head, hoping somehow, he receives my mental message. “ But I don’t think I’m going to survive what he’s got planned for me. Just know, you’ve been the very best brother a girl could ever have. You took care of me when it wasn’t your responsibility to do so, even during my snotty teenage years. I could never repay you for all you’ve done. I just hope you know in your heart how much I love you.”
“Wakey, wakey, it’s time to break ye,” Alvin whispers, his voice sinister and unfeeling as he leans closer. “Yeah, I’m going to like this.” I cringe when he gets near me, he’s the true definition of a psychopath.
His snickers reverberate around the room, the vibrations from his maniacal timbre circulate through my entire body as he pulls out a large pocketknife and begins slicing at my clothes until they’re hanging on me in tattered shreds. I know my time is nearly up, and pray even harder that I pass out before he rapes me so I’m not awake and alert to experience that atrocity. It won’t change the outcome, but at least I won’t be aware of what he’s doing and will find peace in the darkness.
The sheer horror I feel when I see him begin to undress surpasses any fear or anguish I’ve ever known in my life; it’s like a train wreck waiting to happen, I can’t look away from it but wish I could run and hide from the impending event. He’s not even in the realm of being attractive; he’s balding with excess body hair covering his back and chest. A well-rounded paunch juts out from his middle, thankfully hiding his dick, which I’m sure isn’t even worth writing home about. As his hand reaches out to stroke my arm, I can’t help the shudder that courses through me, which ramps up his anger once again.
“Think you’re too good for the likes of me, I see, when you’re no better than biker trash,” he sneers, scowling at me through angry slitted eyes, backhanding me once again.
As darkness looms around me with the promise of dragging me under, I manage one last utterance and scream, “Sleeper!” before losing consciousness.
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