Chapter 10
Charlotte
Hands tighten on my hips , a bruising force keeping them in place as the faceless man slams into me from behind. Another set of hands fists my hair in an unyielding grip, forcing my head down to an unrecognizable dick, pummeling my mouth repeatedly until I’m choking for air and drool runs out of the sides of it.
The one in front commandingly holds my head down to his pubic bone with one hand and pinches my nose closed with the other. He’s cut off my oxygen supply with his cock in my throat. I can’t swallow. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. Just as blackness dots my vision, he lets go, thrusting backward with such force as the man behind me slams forward that I feel like he could split me in half at any moment.
Loud clambering commands my attention to the right. There’s a window with a beautiful stained glass picture etched into the lower half. A semi-circle pattern with intersecting lines that lead to a single star. A flurry of blues and greens meld together, creating an Aurora Borealis throughout the glass. On top of those luminescent colors lies a beige crescent moon, donning an all-seeing eye, with its gaze trained on the single star. Mouth set in a line. Like the moon is disappointed in the star.
The grunts of the unwelcome invader of my body reverberate off the walls around us. A symphony of my torment to echo on repeat.
The malevolent, red, glowing-eyed demon before me has moved to a throne of broken glass. Shards stick out in all directions, and the chipped edges are flooded with blood, which trickles slowly down the smooth surface .
His face is completely covered in shadow. Only the crimson gleam stands out against the pitch. The strike of a match flickers in the room as the demon brings a cigarette to his mouth. The flame attaches to the end, bringing the slender wand of destruction to life, conjuring forth its whispers of death. As he sucks in a breath of the filament, the flame chases down the length, setting everything in its path ablaze.
When the ember has been extinguished, the smoke billows from the obscurity on the throne. As the thrusts behind me continue, the grip crushes my bones as my head falls limply between my arms—the only thing keeping my body upright.
Blood traces a path along the milky skin, matching the stains of the shards on the throne. Jagged, deep cuts allow the meat inside to dangle flaccidly from my body. Pools of my life force surround my hands.
The monster behind me grabs a fistful of my hair, jerks my head back as far as it will go, and turns it back to the window and the enchanting celestial art decorating it.
A hand slams on the clear half of the window from outside. Frantic, verdant eyes stare back at me. A second set of panic-laced, smokey eyes latch onto my lifeless gaze. Unheard pleas radiate from the turbulent orbs.
The monster forces my fixation back on the infernal presence. The smoke begins to form into letters. H . The letters flow straight to me one at a time, disintegrating once they hit my face. I .
The smoke burns my eyes. A . I blink quickly, my globes begging for relief. S . Tears gather and give momentary respite. T . My lungs are filling with the deadly plume. R . I choke on a cough and blink hard, the tears washing the burn away. A . My psyche oscillates around the letters, lining them up in my mind’s eye.
As the puzzle pieces snap together, I wrench my focus back to the aberration. A spotlight shines on the tabletop beside him, and I follow it to its origin, the star, and back to the table. The light reflects off of the shiny metal of the large needle. Beside the needle, a vile. Beside the vile, a tourniquet.
Hi Astra.
* * *
I wake with a start, panting and covered in sweat. I stare, unseeing, at the water-stained tile ceiling. The nurse said this new med could cause vivid dreaming, but fuck . I wasn’t expecting it to be that intense. I can almost feel the oppressive force behind me and the taste of smoke on my tongue.
I swallow down the vomit that threatens to relieve itself from my body and take deep breaths in an attempt to calm my galloping heart. I press my palm to the overworked ticker, rubbing slow circles to coax the calm that I don’t feel to come out.
Buzzing sounds out from the shared bathroom. I force myself to sit up and let the damp sheets pool around my waist. I kick out of them and grab some fresh clothes. A moan echoes from the bathroom, and I roll my eyes.
Once the dry clothes cover my body, I look at the clock on the wall. 5:56 AM. My nightmare-addled brain finally catches up with the noise filling the room, goddamnit Cassie. She doesn’t have a fucking electric toothbrush!
I slam my notebook on the med counter. Janice, the nicer of the nurses in this dreadful place, blinks back, surprised at my ire. She fixes a smile on her face. “Charlotte, good morning. Here’s your morning dose.” She slides over a small white paper cup with two small round pills inside – not the fun kind either. One is to help me wean off the opioids, and one is to manage my depression– even though I never accept it, she holds out another small cup of water. I’m no noob to dry-swallowing pills, honey.
She raises her brow at me expectantly. I open my mouth, moving my tongue in all directions so she can verify I have ingested them both.
“Thank you,” she praises.
She begins to busy herself with other tasks, and I clear my throat to grab her attention. “Uh, Janice?” She turns back to me with a smile and tilts her head slightly forward, allowing me to continue. “I need a new toothbrush.”
“Certainly, but I just have to warn you, they have wooden handles and can sometimes splinter out if they get too wet.” She warns as she places the plastic-covered toothbrush in my palm. I grin at her, “Perfect.”
The food here sucks especially breakfast. Metal prison trays full of bland, thick, sticky oatmeal. A third of a very bruised banana. A cardboard carton of skim milk. Barely a spoonful of rehydrated eggs. Sometimes, a mystery meat that somewhat resembles bacon but tastes suspiciously like fish. Like I said, it fucking sucks.
I’m already in a bad mood with the shitty wake-up, the toothbrush debacle, and now faced with food that is doubtfully fit for human consumption. The last fucking thing I want to hear is the irritating prattle of the spiteful triad.
“You’re so ugly. It’s a shame you failed at killing yourself. The world really doesn’t need any more ginger uggos. Are you that dumb, too? Couldn’t even do suicide correctly.” Ironic statement coming from her.
Charity cackles, followed by the grating giggle of my bitch-ass roommate. The third groupie stays stoic. Their bodies imposing over whatever unfortunate soul that drew their attention at 6:30 AM.
“Hey, are you fucking deaf? I’m talking to you, bitch,” she goads. A whimper sounds out from the object of Charity’s wrath as she leans down and shoves her off of her seat.
Snickers from the audience around us echo off the linoleum, filling Charity with renewed bravado. She presses her white canvas shoe against the leg of the body, now cowering on the floor. Carina shakes her head and walks away, leaving enough of an opening for me to catch eyes with the frightened redhead.
Tears fill her pleading eyes. My body remains paralyzed in place. My eyes slam shut, allowing a familiar memory to flash along my eyelids.
She sucks in a harsh breath and pushes back from the desk, grabbing her backpack off the floor. In her haste to get away, her foot snags on the metal leg of the desk, and she falls forward; the audible sound of her knee smashing against the hard tile perforates the now-silent classroom.
A few muffled laughs sound around the space, bouncing off the walls like an echo chamber. I slowly move to a standing position and walk over to her. I gently bump her foot with mine, and she recoils, bringing her leg up to her body in a fetal position. I look over her shaking frame and bend down to a crouch beside her.
Reaching my hand out, I gently part her cherry tresses to see her heat-bloomed, tear-stained cheeks. She is sobbing silently and refusing to open her eyes. I softly run the backside of my index finger against the apple of her cheek as I lean down so close that my lips skim the edge of her ear, “You might be insignificant as yourself, but you are less than nothing as someone else.”
Jeering from the crowd around me recalls me from the past. Just as Charity lifts her foot to stomp down on Aurelia’s leg, I lift my tray and slam it down on the hard table top.
The crashing sound immediately calls everyone in the room’s attention.
Cassie’s smile slides off her face as she meets my infuriated stare. She unconsciously pulls her hand back from Charity’s shoulder and takes a step away.
I direct the full weight of my wrathful stare at Charity. “If you touch her one more time, you and I are going to have a problem,” I warn, my knuckles turning white from the forceful grip on the tray.
She laughs nervously and takes a look around the room. Looking for backup, maybe. She won’t find it. I’ve created a certain reputation for myself with my frosty demeanor, and I suppose the scuffle with Roman solidified the fact that I am not to be fucked with.
She straightens her shoulders and flicks her onyx braid over her shoulder, the weight slapping across her ass as she stares at me in challenge. Like a true fucking idiot, she decides to test my gangster and slowly lifts her foot over Aurelia’s knee. I close the gap between us in an instant and brick her right across the face with the metal tray.
Charity screams as we fall to the ground. I quickly straddle her, reaching my hand down to each side of her head. I pick it up and slam it backward to the floor with enough force to rattle her brains a little bit. I’m not trying to kill the bitch. Just teach her a lesson.
Blood careens out of her nose, I pull a fist back, ready to pop her one, when my arm is stopped mid-air, and my attention flies to Cassie – who has clearly lost her fucking mind– we both look at where her hand is clasped on my wrist.
I bare my teeth at her. If she wants some of this, too, I’ll gladly share. She must think better of her decision to intervene because she drops my arm and backs away. I pull back once more and deliver a solid blow to her left cheek.
Charity sputters and cries below me, begging for me to stop. She didn’t give Aurelia that courtesy so she could take what was coming to her .
I cock my arm back to give her another one when my body is jerked off her. SDR and some other orderly are dragging me away from the bloody, crumpled mass. I give her a smarmy grin as she watches me being hauled off.
I look over at Aurelia, who is now sitting up but still on the floor, staring at me in disbelief and awe. I offer her a soft, genuine smile and wink at the shock on her face.
Rough hands squeeze my now sore arms, and my feet dangle lifelessly against the floor as we make our way down a hallway I’d hoped never to see.
Nurse HF stands sentient at the doorway to my hell. Arms crossed over her stickly arms, talons digging into the white linen of her scrubs with force. She scowls down at me before a cruel smile lifts her wrinkly lips.
“In.” she barks at the orderlies before turning on her heel and strolling back down the hallway.
Creaking hinges groan as the large metal door is thrust open, and the orderlies heave my body into the padded room.
I quickly crab crawl to the back wall and bring my knees to my chest. My gaze turns frantic as I take in the severe lack of decoration in the space. The floor and the walls are covered in what looks like blue wrestling mats. That’s it. There is no window. No bed. No toilet. No clock. I never thought I’d miss that incessant ticking device, but knowing I won’t have any frame of reference for passing time makes shivers run down my spine.
SDR crowds my space. I press my body against the wall as much as I can. Attempting to blend into the insulated material, unsuccessfully. He leans down to me, pressing one large arm to the wall, partially caging me in, and pressing his other hand to the rigid line against his linen trousers.
His lustful eyes roam over my body, pausing on the blood stains dotting my chest. His tongue darts out and wets his lips. He palms his growing erection while examining my chest like he suddenly became Cyclops. The urge to punch him in the balls is strong, but my desire to not get the shit kicked out of me is stronger, so I stuff the urge deep down and clench my jaw, pressing my fists into my shins.
Putrid breath fills my senses when he brings his mouth to a grossly close proximity. I fail at holding back a full-body cringe. He smirks at my reaction, “ On your feet, girly,” he quietly demands. When I don’t move fast enough, he jerks me up by my already sore bicep and spins me around, pressing my face harshly against the buffered wall.
He kicks my feet apart and presses his lips to my ear while shoving his rough left hand between my legs, “Contraband check.” He snickers while stroking me through my sweats. His stiff member grinds against my ass, pulsing against the soft skin.
His teeth latch onto my earlobe, and he bites down hard . The right hand, not to be left out of the exploration, finds its way to my breast. He cups it with vigor, painfully squeezing my nipple between his forefinger and thumb. My hands curl into fists, my nails finding their familiar settlement on the crescent shapes permanently etched in the soft flesh.
A kaleidoscope of grotesque visions and unsettling scenarios circles my mind like a demented carousel. Each round is more disturbing than the last. Revulsion wraps around me like a suffocating cloak of nightmares and vile intentions.
He continues grinding against me, alternating his grip between my battered nipple and the sensitive globe of my breast. The rhythm gains speed, and the pressure of his body against mine increases. My mind immediately dives into escape mode. Producing a picturesque cabin in the woods for me to hide in until it’s safe to come out again.
All at once, the pressure behind me is lifted, and the sound of the heavy metal door slamming shut gives me a slight reprieve. The screeching of a small window towards the top of the door has me jerking my head towards it, fear creeping down my spine. The window slides open, and SDR leans in with a wicked grin, “Welcome to the Quiet Room, little girl. See you soon.”