Caught

Slowly, she opened her eyes to see… nothing. There was no light, but that wasn‘t different from any other day. She blinked her eyes a few times to help them adjust to the dark. It’s not like she really needed to though. Even when her eyes were closed the image of the room was burned so perfectly into her mind, she could never forget what it looked like. She could see the furnace in front of her wedged in the space under the stair case that lead up to the basement door. If one where to walk down those stairs they’d be able to see the huge built in closet; it almost seemed like it was taking up half of the wall. There was a pretty decent sized cabinet on the adjacent to the closet, full of a lot of random liquids and drugs, most of which she has already been injected with, forced to drink or had the pleasure of having them be pored onto her bare skin. Directly behind her was a very special wall. Most of her worst nightmares were lined up against that wall, just waiting for her to fall back asleep so they can show their ugly faces. And she saw all of this without even opening her eyes.

As gently as she could, she tried to move into a more “comfortable” position. The word itself was so ridiculous it almost made her laugh; ‘How comfortable could any one be lying on a concrete floor?’ Currently, her arms were pinned under her stomach, cutting off the circulation. At this point, she could barley even feel them any more. She tenderly pulled her arms from under her body. Unfortunately, she wasn’t gentle enough. The wounds on her back, that had started to crust over and scab in an attempt to heal themselves, opened again, all because of that small movement. The blood was now flowing once again through her arms and, sadly, from the newly re-opened gash on her back. She could feel the blood slowly ooze down her side and hear the small drip, drip, drip of it hitting the floor beside her.

She folded her arms under her head and rested it on top of them. As she closed her eyes, she tried, in vain, to take herself away from it all. It was easy enough in the beginning; she could take her mind away from all the pain, all the worthless emotions and just… be. Of course, once he noticed what she was doing, he put a stop to all that nonsense in an instant. It was pointless now. No mater how tightly she closed her eyes or how hard she tried to take herself away from it all, she was still trapped in this room.

When she opened her eyes, they landed on the stair case and traveled up to the door that was the only exit. She was always praying that that door would never open again. It was the door to hell and unfortunately she was on the wrong side. Only one person ever walked through that door and he was probably the most pleasant bastard any one has ever met. Before she would always wish that he might be careless and forget to lock it, that way she’d be able to sneak out, unoticed, at night. However she never got so lucky and on many occasions she got caught, attempting to pick the lock or just tear the knob right out of it's soccet, and punished for “such disrespectful actions” (his own words). So, she was praying to what ever gods would listen that that door would never open. But, then, the day that the gods’ actually listen to her was the day that pigs flew down into the icy cold depths of hell.

The next moment, the door slowly creaked open and an abrupt blast of light hit her right in the eye, blinding her for a moment. The shock wore off soon enough and in an instant, she went limp on the floor, trying to appear asleep.

‘Maybe he’ll leave me alone if he thinks I’m asleep.’

It was a lie, and she knew that, but it was really the only thing that she could do anymore. Besides, sometimes, when she lied to herself, it gave her some sort of false hope. As she found out a long time ago, even being asleep wouldn't save her; even if she really was sleeping he would just wake her up or do what ever he was going to do anyway.

Heavy footfalls were heard as the man leisurely walked down the stairway, pausing at the last step. Next was the sound of boots hitting the floor and getting closer. She did her best not to tense up as he walked past her. Something hit the ground. There was some shuffling and then a variety of different noises. For some time it was silent, then, she could’ve sworn there was the buzz of some kind of heavy duty drill. For a second time, the footfalls got closer but this time, they stopped right beside her.

She could feel his gaze on her body as he stood there for what seemed like hours. There was a rustle of cloth and suddenly she could feel warm breath being blown onto her cheek. He just kept getting closer ’till his lips lightly pressed against her temple. It took every ounce of her will power not to tense or try to swat him away. He chuckled a little and started running his fingers up her thighs, over her hips and onto her waist. “Good morning sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” the mock concern in his voice was sickening. “You know, I do love it when you pretend to sleep. It’s so cute the way that you think I won’t notice.”

Her back tightend up as she groaned in frustration. It really asn't that big of a surprise but the way he always did that was unbeleivably anoying not to mention chilling. She glared at him through half open eyes and tried to wrench her body away from his touch without causing herself to any more pain or injury.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t be that way.” A hurt look crossed his face. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Today is going to be a good day. I got a little surprise for you baby doll.” with that said he crouched down to pick her up. He rapped one arm around her chest, under her chin and the other around her waist. The second he got his arm close enough to her chin, she did the first thing that came to her mind; ‘Bite it, bite it. Make it stop touching me’. He instantly retracted his arm and dropped her flat on her ass. He pulled her back up by the forearm and slapped her across the face. She didn’t even flinch and kept her head facing this new direction.

“You little bitch. I could’ve sworn I’d beaten all of that defiance right out of you by now.” he dropped her once more and stood up, looking down at her limp body. A sadistic look crossed his face and gradually, he began walking over to the cabinet on the wall, laughing as he opened it. “It doesn’t really matter. A little bit of respect would be nice is all. Maybe then we wouldn’t half to resort to these types of methods.” he made it sound like the simplest thing in the world and it was all her fault for not cooperating. “And besides, we don’t want you getting hurt now do we?” he looked at her with that sarcastic glint in his eye.

He turned back around to close the cabinet and then started walking back toward her. He was now clutching something very tightly in his hands like he was trying to hide it, as if she didn‘t already know what it was. He used it all the time if not every time he came down for a “visit.” It was, for that reason, why she was biting her lips together so hard she could taste the blood pooling on the inside of her mouth. And there it was; the same old sickly yellow/green poison. It had no smell or taste to it but, then, the color alone should tell just how nasty it really was. He held the small vile over her head and swung it, lazily, back and forth, taunting her.

He couldn’t help but grin when he saw her: body tense, fists clenched and, best of all, the way her lips were clasped together. He kneeled down next to her body and reached his hand out to gently stroke her cheek. “I don’t understand why you always try to fight me on these things?” he somehow managed to conger up a very innocent look. “However, it is adorable the way you seem to think that you might actually win one day.” steadily, he moved his hand from her cheek to her nose, and held it shut.

She stayed still for a few seconds, and then her lungs started to burn and moan at the lack of oxygen. She started to squirm and try to get away from that hand, making pathetic attempts at pushing him away; she wasn't even strong enough to stand up let alone try to fight ome one three times her size. Her face was turning red. Finally, when she was about to pass out, she opened her mouth, just a little, to take in at least a small amount of air. Unfortunately, that was all he needed. He violently yanked her mouth open and poured in at least half of that disgusting liquid. There wasn’t even enough time for her to spit it out before his hand was back over her nose and, more importantly, her mouth. It was a repeat of the last time, only now, there was a lot more at steak.

He laughed quietly when he saw her writhing. “You know sweetie, if you would just swallow, then I would be able to let you breath again.” Before, it would’ve been too easy for her to wrench his hand away and spit that foul poison right in his face where it belonged, but after months of shit like this (and much worst), the most she could manage was a few meager struggles, maybe an insult here or there but her body had all but given out and given up months ago. He didn’t need this poison any more and they both knew that.
At last, like always, she gave up, and swallowed. He pulled his hand away and started stroking her hair in what he probably thought was a soothing gesture as she gasped for breath. He looked down to her with a “loving” gaze.

“Good girl.”

Instantly she started to feel the weight come down on her. There was a familiar feeling of gravity increasing. That stuff was just terrible. It was almost like she was paralyzed. She wasn’t though; it just took a lot of effort to do something as simple as lifting her head or wiggle her toes. Lifting a finger was more like lifting five hundred bricks.

Once he was positive she was feeling all of the effects, he scooped her up and carried her over to the wall. He set her down on her feet which almost gave out at the unexpected weight. As he held her body next to the wall, he seemed to be fiddling with something right by her neck but she couldn‘t turn her head to see what it was. Without warning, something wrapped around her exposed neck. It felt like there was something poking into her skin. Not enough pressure to break the skin but enough to make it very uncomfortable. She heard a clasp snap shut right next to her ear. She glared at him when she realized what it was; a spiked necklace, the points facing the wrong way and poking into her neck. It was bolted to the wall, preventing her from even attempting to move her head.

He backed away a little. He let one of his hands slide down her body to her waist, the other lingered for a while at the swell of her naked breast before going down to hold her up by the waist as well. An evil grin spread across his lips. He leaned in right next to her ear.
“You ready sweetheart?” and then, he let go.




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For the next few weeks, that little necklace was one of his most favorite toys. He lived to play with it almost a much as he lived for his whips, knives and poisons.

But that wasn’t going to last long. She had a plan. She’s been working on it ever since he used this one very specific poison on her. Now it was perfect. Earlier that day she crawled over to the cabinet and grabbed two small glass bottles full of what she needed. When this idea first began to creep inside her head she knew she would need to find some place to hide them. That was when she discovered a lose brick near the bottom of the “wall of terror” as she affectionantly liked to call it (the wall with the chains, the necklace and the sight of almost all the tortures he had ever forced her to endure). So she just pulled the brick out and hid them there.

The only thing that she wasn’t completely sure of was how everything was going to play out. She knew exactly how she wanted it to go but was it really going to work that way?

‘How am I going to make this work?’

She didn’t really have any time to think about that as the next second, the door opened and It procceded to walk down the stairs. Immediately, he starts talking.

“You know, I really have never met anyone quite like you. You just seem to be so full of life. It’s almost like it’s impossible for me to break you.” as he talked he sauntered on over and picked her up, walking with her over to the wall and chaining her up so that her back was to him and her arms were trapped above her head.

“All the other girls that I’ve met have always tried to beg or bribe or cry and whine and it was always just so annoying because they were nothing of a challenge. They broke the second they saw this room. but, then, i guess you'ld all ready know that wouldn't you? None of them lasted more then a week where as you, you have been here for nearly four months, did you know that? Its amazing really.” he walked over to the closet and reached in side, pulling out his absolute favorite whip. “I don’t even think that I’ve ever seen you shed one tear… heh… yet, that is.” he stood behind her and ran the edge of the whip along her back. “You are just so much more fun to play with then all those other girls.” he pulled his arm back and brought it down, hard, letting the first strike hit her right in the center of her back. “You are such a challenge. You never give.” three very brutal strikes landed on her back, creating new wounds and opening old ones. “Baby, I got to tell you,” another strike. “I think I’m in love.”

It got harder and harder to stay silent with every new strike against her already battered back. Finally, ten minutes and twenty strikes later, he stopped and admired his handy work. She rested her head against the wall and tried to calm her nerves absolutely refusing to cry. ‘Not now, not ever. I will never cry for that bastard! i will not allow him the satisfaction.’ He reached up, released her arms, and let her fall strait to the floor. He started over to the closet to clean his whip of any blood and put it back in it’s place.

This was it; the perfect moment. he would never even suspect. She looked up and that lose brick was right in front of her face. She pulled it out of the wall and reached in to get the glass containers. setting the brick down, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, resting her beaten and battered back up against the wall. One bottle was clenched in each hand ready and prepared to do their job.

As he began walking back he faltered in his step when he noticed her sitting up, looking him straight in the eye with such a glair Satan himself would quiver in fear. In an instant, a smile broke onto his face. “And that is exactly what I mean. Not even crying and even sitting up. You are just so difficult.”

He walked closer and the second he was near enough she through one of the bottles directly into his face with deadly accuracy. It shattered on impact; he fell to the floor screaming in agony, holding his face as he writhed in pain.

“YOU UGLY LITTLE BITCH! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” he just kept yelling and screaming at her as he squirmed on the ground, struggling to regain his vision.

She pulled herself over to the man, unnoticed, while opening the second bottle and pouring it right on his neck. It burned straight through his skin in an instant. It was like acid, only worse (she would know). It could burn right through your skin; eat away at the bone if there was enough of it, and all in a mater of seconds. She crawled away as to avoid be hit by the spazuming arms and disgusting smell of burning flesh. Blood was pooling around his body. Eventually, the screaming started to die down and the movement began to slow. In a matter of minutes he was completely still.

She waited… a minute… five minute… ten. He never moved. She fell back on the floor and rested, trying to catch her breath. She didn’t do much but it felt like she ran marathon. Hours passed and she still hadn‘t moved from that spot. She needed to regain at least some of her strength. At last, when the smell of the rotting body next to her started getting too strong, she rolled over and inched her way toward the staircase.

She stared up at it, and, slowly began her journey to the top. She could barely use her legs and every movement caused and immense amount of pain to shoot through her body. Finally, she reached the door, stretched her arm up and turned the knob. As the door swung open it reminded her of some beautiful dream she had almost givven up. She took one last look at the dead body on the floor of the basement. With venom in her voice, she nearly spit the few words she only wished she could’ve said when he was still alive.

“Burn in hell, ‘Dad.’”