The Wounds We Heal (The Broken Souls Duet #2)

Chapter 1

We’re all packed into small groups in the tight hallways that lead us back to our cages.

The atmosphere is dark and damp, the sounds of whimpers and cries bounce around the small space.

The bodies of other women and girls rub against my bare arms as we funnel through the hallway, our skin is filthy and raw, and I honestly don’t remember the last time I showered or how long I’ve been in this hellhole.

My bare feet sting as I shuffle across the hard stone floor.

The pain of being forced to stand on glass for hours on end causes me to wince with every step I take.

“Get a fucking move on!” My shoulders hike up at the demand and we begin to move quicker in fear of being whipped again.

I keep my eyes on the floor, the frail strands of my greasy black hair falling over my face.

A violent scream rips through the air from a woman who’s further back from me, the sound of the leather whip cracks before it lands on her skin and my empty eyes turn back to see her crumpled on the floor, writhing in pain.

I’m desperate to help but I can’t, it’s every woman for themselves in this place.

I pause in place, my body being shoved around as people push past me, then I feel a harsh grip around my jaw as my head is snapped back again.

The rancid sour breath of the guard infiltrates my nose and mouth and I try my best to hold back a gag.

His skin is oily and aged, laced with disgusting welts.

I grit my teeth and breathe heavily through my nose.

“What the fuck are you looking at, bitch? Keep fucking moving before I remove your eyes and skull fuck your eye sockets.” I don’t even wince at the threats any more, the words landing on deaf ears.

I’ve almost become accustomed to the threats and torture now.

These men are nothing but weak, vile creatures who think they’re better than women, who think they have the power to rule the world.

I yank my face out of the guard’s harsh grip and continue walking forward through the hallway until we’re all separated into our cages where we stay for hours on end until one of the guards wants to have some fun with us, or a buyer turns up for his goods.

These women who I’ve spent so long with, come and go but most of them never last the sickening brutality that we’re forced to endure.

Only a couple of days ago, I found a girl, no younger than eighteen, dead.

She’d sharpened a rock that she found in her cage to a lethal point and butchered herself, her throat slashed and gaping open.

The guards were not fazed at the harrowing scene, they simply dragged her out of there by her feet and into another room that I’ve never been in before.

I shuffle through the small walk space that runs in the middle of the cages that line the outside walls of the dismal room.

My arms are tightly wrapped around my middle, the soft whimpers of girls who are trapped in their cages land in my ears as I make it to the end of the walkway to my cage.

The door is already open for me and I’m pushed into the small cage, my frail knees cracking as they connect with the concrete floor.

With force, hands slap against the floor to break my fall and I hiss at the sharp pain that shoots up my wrists before I crawl into the cramped space and back myself up into the corner, the cold metal bars hitting the bones in my back.

I tuck my knees as far into my chest as I can and wrap my arms around them, then clasp my hands together at the front to make myself as small as possible.

The door of the cage is slammed shut and the sound vibrates through the bars, then the solid lock is slid into place. Trapping me inside, once again.

I must have fallen asleep as loud clanging shocks me out of my slumber, my bones aching from sitting in the same position.

I release my hands and try to stretch my legs out as much as I can in the small space.

I wince at the shooting pain that travels up my calves.

Shuffling further to the front of the cage I wrap my hands around the bars to try and see where the noise is coming from then scramble back as another guard begins to open the cage doors one by one.

Each room of girls is only allowed out together on shower days and by showers, I mean we’re stripped naked and hosed down like prisoners, well, I guess we are prisoners, except we’re not in here for committing a crime.

We’re here because my fucking husband is a sick bastard.

I’ve never hated a person more in my existence and I can’t wait for the day when he gets what he deserves, and I’ll be the one to bring it to him, even if I die trying.

After I arrived here I was in a state of shock after the car crash.

I couldn’t quite believe what was happening to me or why I’d ended up here until the devil arrived, a monster in my husband’s skin had found me.

I remember the burning pain across my face as he pistol whipped me, causing me to black out.

Once I’d come around again I was shed of my clothes and left bare in a small, dark room with no windows.

Just four brick walls and a bucket in the corner.

I don’t know how long I was left there in constant pain from the car crash until I was dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming and thrown into this cage.

I’ve been here ever since. My husband has been scarce and I dread to think what he has in store for me.

The guard makes his way up, flicking open each cage, the girls and women crawling out before lining up.

My door is the last one to open and the big burly guard stands as he waits for me to crawl out.

I keep my back plastered against the bars.

I know I’m making a stupid mistake by defying his orders but I can’t go through with shower day, again.

I shake and tremble as my mind throws me back into a horrifying memory.

“Alright ladies, line up and strip down!” The boom of the guards voice has us scrambling into a line against the white wall of an outside shower area.

The tiles under my feet are filthy and black.

Our bodies bump together as we line up, shoulder to shoulder, all of us shivering in fear.

“It seems only a few of you can listen. I said, fucking strip!”

I practically jump out of my skin but I can’t move. I can’t bring myself to remove my arms from around my middle. I’m frozen in pure fear.

“Hey. The quicker we do this, the quicker it’s over.

Trust me.” The girl standing next to me whispers into my ear so as not to alert the guards.

I drop my head and look down at her, she’s only a few inches shorter than me, her blunt cut blonde hair sits at chin length.

Her eyes are blue, I think, they look so void of emotion, like an empty well.

“I.. I can’t do this.” I mutter, my voice breaking as my eyes scan the other women who are stripping down to their naked form before turning to face the wall, their backs towards the guards. I feel the blonde girl’s hand on my upper arm, her touch gentle.

“Yes. You can. Just do it.” Her voice is firmer this time, then she drops her hand and begins to take off her grimy white robe.

I watch her drop it to the damp floor and turn around.

The skin on her back is covered in an array of old scars and fresh, bleeding wounds.

Still, I remain frozen in fear, my whole body shaking as one of the guards begins to walk over to me.

I feel a sudden heat of wet liquid spill down the inside of my thighs causing me to look down at the yellowish fluid splashing against my feet before swirling down the drain.

“Did you just fucking piss yourself?” The guard barks out before laughing at my embarrassment.

I dip my head lower to avoid his gaze but it’s no use, his gloved hand grips the front of my robe before he yanks me to him.

I slip on the wet floor and land with a crack on my knees and cry out at the pain but that pain is soon overthrown by a hand gripping at my roots, the burning sensation spreads over my scalp and I try to wrap my hands around the guard’s wrist to ease the pain but it doesn’t work, my damp hands slipping over his uniform.

“Please.. please! Stop!” I cry out but it does nothing to stop the guard from dragging me across the tiles, my legs and feet scraping as I try to find some sort of traction.

I’m pulled to my feet by my hair and thrown into the hellish arms of another guard then spun around, my back against his front.

The guard who gripped my hair comes to stand in front of me, my chest heaving and heavy tears streaming down my face.

He rips my robe open and I try to cover myself but the guard behind me yanks my arms back painfully so my breasts are pushed forward.

Fear spreads through my bloodstream as I struggle in his hold but he grips me tighter, my fight proving useless.

I feel his dead eyes roam over my naked form.

I feel violated.

The guard lifts his hand in one swift movement before the back of it lands against my face, causing my head to snap to the side, my teeth rattling around like a china tea set.

I keep my head to my shoulder, letting my hair cover my face as his rough gloved hand gropes my breast, squeezing the tender flesh harshly.

The pain radiates through my chest and I cry out, heavy broken sobs falling freely from my mouth as he continues to assault me.

I thought I’d known hell in my marriage but I was so very wrong.

This is a place where the darkest, most vile creatures are allowed to roam freely.

Their playground and I’m just the shiny new ride for people to test out until I’m worn down, out of service.