Chapter 8 #2
“No,” I barely breathe the word, knowing my defiance will earn me a beating. I don’t care anymore.
He cocks a brow at me, and leaving the tray, he stands and leaves. The door closes and a moment later a beep sounds, followed by a loud click, indicating the door is locked. My heart beats faster, assuming he’s coming back with something to hurt me with. I wait for a long time, staring at the door.
Time passes, and he doesn’t return. I’m hesitant to think I’ve escaped punishment. Never has my father let a moment to beat me go wasted.
My stomach growls, and my eyes shift to the food on the tray. It’s been awhile since I’ve eaten. I don’t know what time it is, but judging from the dim light coming through the small windows, it’s late. So maybe a day?
I won’t eat it though. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
I push more of the blanket under me and behind my back to stop the thin bars from digging into my skin and hurting.
I look straight ahead and into what’s obviously a bathroom. I could leave the cage and try to find something in there to use as a weapon, but I’m terrified of leaving the safe place he gave me.
Shame consumes me. I don’t even have the balls to look for a fucking weapon.
My chest tightens, and I force my frozen limbs to move.
I slowly crawl from the cage, my eyes on the heavy door he exited.
My heart beats so hard in my chest it hurts.
I don’t want him to come back and beat me to the cage. But I have to try.
I take one step from the cage, but my fingers wrap around the bars, leashing me to it. I inhale a deep breath and let go of the bars, the thin metal slipping past my fingertips. My eyes tear away from the door and I move quickly to the tiny windows above my head.
I know it’s impossible, but I have to try.
I stretch on my tiptoes, trying desperately to even reach them.
After a quick moment of failure, I take a step back and look at them.
My body wouldn’t even fit through those small rectangles.
I could try dragging the cage over and climbing on top of it.
I look at the rectangles again. They’re so small.
But I have to at least try. Even if it’s just to open the window and flag someone down. Or scream for help.
I watch the door the entire time that I try my damnedest to move the heavy cage. My shoulders ache and the bars dig into my fingers, but it’s useless.
I pull with all my weight, but it doesn’t even budge.
Breathless and feeling pathetic, I give up the stupid thought and my eyes focus on the bathroom.
I hesitate to walk the distance of the room, but maybe there’s a way out.
A larger window perhaps. The windows are close enough that if I heard the click or the beep, I could easily run back to the cage and make it safely inside before he could catch me.
The bathroom is too far. I’d never manage to outrun him.
But if there’s an escape, or a weapon… I only glance at the door before my instincts take over.
As quickly as I can, I dart across the room, knowing I can’t fail.
If he comes in now, he’d beat me to the cage.
And caught in the bathroom, I’d be cornered.
My heart slams with fear as I take in the barren bathroom.
My bare feet slap against the cold tile as my heart pounds in my chest. My eyes dart from the steel pipe under the sink to the showerhead.
Those are the only two things I can think of to even consider as a weapon.
Even the toilet tank lid has been removed, and the mirror is gone, too.
I crouch under the sink and pull with all my weight on the steel pipe, but my grip slips and I fall backward, my head slamming against the tile.
“Fuck!” I shout, grabbing onto the back of my head and wincing with pain.
Click. I swear I hear a click, and I move as fast as possible. My legs scream with pain as I sprint from the bathroom to the cage. My toenail scrapes against the concrete as I nearly trip, but I keep running. I don’t stop. I ignore the pain and keep my eyes on the opening to the cage. To my safety.
I slam my body against the back of the cage and breathe heavily, staring at the closed door.
All I can hear is the blood rushing into my ears and my heart beating uncontrollably with fear.
But nothing happens.
My chest heaves, and I try to calm myself as I wait with panicked breath.
Did I imagine it? I pull my legs to my chest and stare at the door.
A long time passes, and I finally realize I let the fear get the best of me.
He’s not coming in here. At least not in this moment. My eyes drift back to the bathroom and the tiny windows. They’re both dead ends. No weapons, no escape.
I stare at the door and wonder when he’ll be back, and what he’s going to do when he does return.
He said he won’t come into this cage, so that’s fine.
I’ll just stay here, but something has to happen eventually. Something has to change. I can’t be stuck here forever. The reality hits me hard all of a sudden. I can. This could be my life now.
In the back of my mind, I remember the bag of heroin. Hidden inside my bra. Waiting for me.
I need to find a way out of here, or else I don’t have many options. Tears threaten to show themselves, and the burning pain of unshed tears is all too familiar to me.
It’s been too long since I’ve cried. I won’t cry for this man. I won’t cry for me when I failed at saving myself.
There’s no one for me to blame but myself.
With the dark thoughts consuming me, I fall asleep against the cage, my eyes on the food that I refuse to eat.
The days pass in a blur until I have no idea how long I've been here, and each day is the same. He comes in with a tray, taking the old one that sits at the front of my cage with untouched food. I don’t even drink the water.
My mouth is dry, and my throat burns. A few times I went to the bathroom to drink from the tap, but the last few days have made me afraid to leave the cage.
During those first few days, I tested my confines. In the middle of the night, I would sneak out into the room and test everything. I went over every inch of the walls, every single corner, every single nook and freaking cranny. There was nothing.
I searched the bathroom. I ripped at the pipes, kicked at the toilet, did everything I could. My hands are bruised and my feet bloodied from the effort, but nothing helped.
Each day was the same. He came with food and that devilish, maddening smile. He speaks so softly, so intensely. His gaze makes me shiver. I have to look away, because I keep imagining things I never thought I would.
I have nothing left. I can’t escape no matter how hard I try. Days slide by, and I sneak out and do what I can, but it never helps.
Finally, the only thing I can do to keep fighting is to refuse him.
I refuse his food. I refuse his questions. I refuse everything he tries to give me. Maybe I can’t break out of my prison, but that doesn’t mean I have to give in to everything he says and does. I listen and sometimes I talk back, but I won’t ever give him what he wants.
I think the silence and lack of interaction have done more damage than good, but I don’t care. I’m so pathetic. I moved from one cage to the next. But I won’t give up.
Every day I watch Gio come in and I wonder if it will be the day I leave the cage and let him do whatever he wants to me. Sometimes I even want him to break his promise and come for me. It would be better that way.
I listen to his voice as he talks to me, but I don’t really hear what he says. Only the commands to eat stand out. Which I won’t do. I don’t care if it kills me. At this point, I’d rather die than be a toy for him. I’ll just stay here and try to sleep my way to death, ignoring the pain.
During the third night, I snuck out of the cage and tried to loosen the pipes in the bathroom. It was well into the night, and normally he didn’t come when there was no light left filtering through the windows. It was pitch black, and he’d never come that late.
But this time he did. I nearly broke my neck diving back into the cage as he stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, his intense stare taking me in.
Shame and guilt, oddly enough, consumed me, but fear was the leading emotion.
I’m too afraid to leave the safety of the cage now, and my body aches when I move, so it’s better that I just stay still. The first two days it felt nice to walk, but now it hurts. Maybe it's because I haven’t eaten, or maybe it's because of dehydration, but I’m not sure.
All I think about is the one way out that I have left. Starvation is a slow death and painful, so I should use the bag of heroin and end it quickly. But I’m a coward. And I find myself looking forward to the small bits of conversation he gives me.
There’s a bed and a chair in the room now. They look comfortable, but they’re tools for him. I’m not a fool. He wants me to come out so he can play with me. And I won’t do it.
I wish I had more options, but the door is locked. There’s no way out.
Either I submit to him, or I live in this cage, or I die.
I’ve held on to hope for so long. For so many years, I thought once I escaped my father I’d be free.
I escaped him only to be put in a literal cage, gifted from my family’s enemies to a man with bad intentions.
My pussy heats as the only thoughts that have interested me flood into my mind.
I don’t know exactly what he wants from me, but I’m afraid to find out.
I can’t help but fantasize about him using me in a way that would give me pleasure, give me a reason to live.
I’ve only been with one man. It was a mistake, one I paid dearly for, and when my father found out, Derek paid with his life. But I’m only human, and I have urges.
I drift slightly in and out of reality, not sure whether I'm daydreaming or actually dreaming. Sometimes I’m in the cage in the dreams. It’s hard to know when I'm awake, but the pain is a good reminder of what’s real.