Chapter 22
There was no way for me to know how long they’d had me there.
I was hooked up to an IV but starving, and after so long without drinking water and the screaming, my throat was like a desert.
If my breathing went off course or quickened, my veins would circulate blood to my fingers at a faster rate, sending excruciating torture where my nails once rested.
The skin there hurt and itched at the same time.
The ticking sounds from the clock above the door mixed with the beeping had me going insane and understanding Edgar Allan Poe a little too well.
Like my thoughts, time was stagnant air, neither coming nor going.
After years of working twelve-hour shifts in political campaigns, this was torture for my mind.
My intelligence, personality, and sanity were wasting away.
The fabric between reality and fantasy degraded into a thin thread that only a spider could find. Up was down, and down I spiraled.
I tried to piece events into an organized sensible timeline, but like broken glass, nothing fit.
Every few minutes, my thoughts, memories, dreams, and fantasies clashed, actively mixing and fighting each other, then my emotions devolved until I couldn’t stand the restraints keeping me on the bed.
Despite my deep bruises, I attempted to break them so many times by pulling with all my energy and strength.
The only stimulation I had was that same vile doctor once again walking into my room.
Each day they didn’t move me from the room, his violation of my body escalated.
He was already comfortable with reaching beneath the sheets to play with my clit while kissing my cheek, my neck.
I’d gag in disgust every time I felt myself getting wetter, aching for more when he’d stop and laugh at me.
“We won’t tell him how wet you get for me every day.
It will be our little secret.” I groaned loudly out of rage, but my body told another story.
“Aww, you’re mad at me?”
My yelling, “Stop!” was once again completely muffled. Unfortunately, my obvious rage only encouraged him. He stroked my clit hard and fast, pulling a gasp out of me. My insides clenched.
“Your pussy is weeping and shaking for my dick. So hungry. When was the last time it took two dicks? Huh? God, I can’t wait.”
My entire body shook, and I cried as my insides clenched tighter and tighter, nearing a precipice.
“So close, aren’t you?”
I gasped and lifted my head off the bed when three of his wet fingers thrusted into my pussy. It was too much, but I was so wet the bed beneath me was soaked.
“You want more?”
Another finger entered me. I screamed and lifted my head, Iwailed as he fisted me, and his other hand rushed to undo his pants, then jerked his dick.
I shut my eyes, not wanting to see him as my pussy tightened on his hand.
He stopped and pulled out of me, leaving my insides sore.
I huffed relief through my nose as my muscles relaxed, and he studied my sobbing face closely.
I thought he was done with me. He never did it for long enough for me to come.
Secretly, despite the physical torture it embodied to not come, I was grateful for that.
His fist slid back in, stretching my entrance again, straining my inner pussy lips, slowly circling and rocking up and down so his knuckles rubbed on my pussy lips without pushing in.
His thumb stroked my clit, while his tongue played with my breast, sucking and flicking hard.
My entire body shook pleasure radiate from my pussy.
The intensity of the shaking meant I was hitting the soars on my back, mixing excruciating pain with the euphoria.
I was so desperate for the pleasure that I tried to fuck his fist, needing the release that was building so fast. I felt I’d explode without relief.
My pleads rolled out in whimpers as I begged to be filled deeper.
His hand jerked his dick, the sound so close to my ear.
“Oh, what a good whore. That’s it. Keep crying for it. Let me hear it.”
My ass lifted and fell onto the mattress while I screamed again and again for it, and my pussy clenched and opened chaotically on its own.
The world swirled as heated pleasure filled every atom of my being.
When my pussy couldn’t possibly clench any harder on his hand, he pushed in.
His knuckles, then wrist, then forearm coursed through and filled me, taking my voice and breaths away.
I stared at the ceiling while he pumped into me.
His breath rushing loudly as he got closer to coming from jerking himself, the fisting grew violent and chaotic.
I had to move my body what little I could to avoid being even more injured.
“Come again with me, for me.” I couldn’t. For every pump and jerk he didn’t feel me getting tighter, he’d push faster, harder, deeper. I was sure he was going to kill me. Then he groaned and whimpered as he came spilling onto the tiled floor.
It was over. Thank God.
“We’ll try again tomorrow. You’re going to get a lot of dick here, Kitty, but you will learn to come with me.” He wrenched his arm out and licked his fingers while the cramps pulled agonizing wails out of me. Eventually, when they calmed, the exhaustion set in and I fell into half-asleep mode.
I’d learned not to allow myself to sleep deep. The night terrors tormented me each time. In my over aware state, I heard the door open, but it wasn’t the doctor. I could tell because the shoes hit differently with each step. At first, I dismissed it as paranoia.
Despite my heart hurrying into a painful speed, I didn’t lift my heavy eyelids. Instead, I tried taking a deep breath. But it was too late, the panic attack and throbbing of my fingers and arms forced me to fully wake. The loud beeping thundered in my ear, shaking my brain. I winced at the attack.
It wasn’t just my paranoia, a different man was in the room, facing away from me.
He appeared to be reading something. His silky black hair was in a low ponytail.
He wore jeans and a fitted black shirt while pacing, never turning to me but repeatedly shaking his head, with frustrated sighs flushing out of him.
He’d grabbed my medical chart and was returning it to the end of my bed. Then I held my breath at the face before me.
It was him.
The one I didn’t kill. My nameless rapist from prom night.
He appeared much older, as if he’d lived a thousand lives—taller and a lot stronger.
The fitted shirt accentuated his muscles.
He seemed just as disturbed as I felt. What the fuck are you doing here?
I thought by now he’d have escaped, hidden his family, something.
The beeping became continuous because I wasn’t breathing.
He muted the machines while I fought to breathe.
My eyes widened as he approached. I tried to push myself to the opposite side of the bed, cringing, screaming, crying.
“No. No.” I didn’t want to see him. Hysteria was the only thing that felt appropriate to my body and mind.
He was a memory from arguably the worst night of my life. What would he do to me?
“Stop it,” he commanded with a deep voice. Was that the same voice? I didn’t remember it being like that. “Just …” It was as if he didn’t know what to say to me. “Just calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I kept shaking my head, my entire being trembling as the memories took over my existence. The forest threatened to grow around me, I could feel Mael, Gabin, and that other sick fuck coming for me. “Mmm mmmm mmmm.” My pleads were unintelligent.
The young clueless male nurse—Henry, I think it was—rushed in.
“Oh. I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were here.
” He gathered his hands in front of himself and lowered his head.
I kept sweeping my eyes from him to the nurse, wanting to see every interaction.
The nurse was scared of him too, or at the very least, giving an enormous amount of respect.
What the fuck? Who was he? It only scared me more.
Why was he treating him like a higher-up?
Why was he scared of him? My chest rose and fell rapidly while my panting only got louder, worsened.
“Good morning, Henry. Can you please bring her something that will calm her?”
“Of course, sir, right away.”
We were left alone. He turned to me with his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. I was still shaking my head, squeezing my eyes tight, crying.
Why the fuck did I not kill him? Fuuuuuuck! I screamed at myself.
“What are you doing here?” I tried to yell, but the rubber ball in my mouth didn’t allow it.
I moaned, wanting that dreadful thing out of my mouth.
Help me! Get me out of here! After days and days and days of lying in that awful bed, they couldn’t possibly expect sensible thoughts and reactions out of me.
He sucked his teeth as if my pleading was annoying him, but in the end, he pulled the thin bed cover up to my chin, shocking me but also calming my fears. “I am not going to hurt or touch you, so please, for the love of God, stop having a fit. We need to talk.”
That decent act alone only drew more tears to my eyes, filling them to the brim.
Please show me that my decision to not kill you on prom night had been right.
Please don’t be the monster I think you are.
I had my doubts, regrets, and even guilt about it, but at that moment, he granted me an amount of comfort and safety I’d been needing since that night.
Please show me you’re not like that disgusting doctor.
The nurse rushed to my IV, and the nameless monster moved out of the way. “It’s not going to knock her out, right?”
The nurse stopped what he was doing, thinking he’d made a mistake. “Is that what you wanted? I just got her something to calm the panic attack.”