Hanging Bodies

Dried blood wrapped around her body, covering her like a blanket on a cold winter day. Her hands were bound by hand cuffs, attached with a long chain to the bitter cement floor, speckled with red blood stains that no one cleaned up.

Above the young girl hung a headless body, chained to the ceiling by the feet. Every drop of blood from the body had poured onto the girl below; like a pig hung to dry out before being chopped up for meat.

Beginning to slowly wake up, she opened her blue eyes. As everything came into focus, a look of fright and revulsion took over her weary face. She wanted to scream, but she was unable to; she wanted to cry for help, but it was hopeless. She tried to lift her head, but the blood was too dry; it was like she was mummified in the caking red sheet. She worked for hours trying to free her arm of the dry bulk. Finally with her right arm free, and sore, she felt all over her perfectly sculpted face; her surgically sculpted nose; her high arched eye brows; her naturally full lips. They felt a little chapped at first, but when she tried to lick them, her mouth could not open. She felt again with her fingers, realizing her lips were stitched together with Blue Steel™ Electric guitar string. Feeling down her chin, and neck, she found more encrusted blood, but a thinner film of it. It was hers.

Slowly she picked at her other arm, trying to free it of the sheet. She lay there for hours, patiently picking at her only source of warmth upon the chilly ground. She tried so hard not to look at the body that hung above her. It had started to decompose hours ago, bits and pieces of body parts fell on top her, but she ignored it only brushing off the bits of arm and head. As she lay there she thought to her-self about how anyone else would go insane just lying here with a dead, decomposing body hanging above them; surprised that she had yet to go barmy.

Finally able to free her left arm of the arid mass she felt over the rest of her body, feeling only the desiccation that had covered her. Slowly she sat up, feeling the resistance of the sheet holding her back.

A burst of light came out of no where, blinding her and sending her flying
backwards. Her restricted hands were trying desperately to cover her cerulean eyes from the luminosity. Foot steps echoed throughout the room, reverberating in her ears. A shadow appeared over her, blocking the light; she opened her eyes to see a dark figure taking down the body above her. He dragged it out of the room, leaving her blinded yet again. The silhouette reappeared a few minutes later, this time with another body, a fresh one. Dragging a ladder with him, he hung this body up in the same way; this one still had a head, this one was still breathing. In the corner of the room, he waited and watched. Waited for the fresh body to wake up; her voluptuous chest moving up and down, cuffed hands hanging above her head, her gold locket lay on her puffy lips. Slowly the girl awoke, first looking down at the girl that lay below, a sorrowful look upon her face.
When she was awake enough and the reality of what was going on hit her, she too tried to scream; which also turned out to be disastrous. She slowly brought her hands up towards her face, not really sure of what she was looking for. With cuffed hands, moving the locket, she felt her lips, and realized that they also had been stitched with guitar string; dried blood was crusted down her pointy chin and Carmel neck.

The two girls stared at each other, looking into each others eyes for any clue as to what was to happen to them. The dark figure slowly walked toward the girls, knife and wire cutters in hand.

He sauntered beside them- jovial about his work- and bent down, a small simper behind his mask which only showed his eyes. He only wanted his victims to see his face just before they died; barley alive and hanging onto a thin thread; breathing their last breath.

His fingers touched the young girls’ lips; lightly, and gracefully. He remembered how easy it was to pierce through their soft skin; he used a yarn needle with guitar string through the eye. They were awake during it all, although paralyzed; he only gave them enough anesthesia to slightly put them asleep. He knew they felt it all, even enjoyed the power he had knowing they couldn’t move a finger; much less resist him. He could almost hear their screams inside their heads. He softly touched the hanging girl’s lips, remembering the beautiful red lipstick he had to wipe off before stitching hers together. He put the handkerchief he used inside her pocket so she could always remember him, if he let her live. They both stared at him with fright in their eyes, watching him closely; afraid about what he would do next. He only stood there, that sly evil smile on his face, gazing down at the girl lying on the floor; dried blood covered most of her body.

He took his time to pull a cassette tape out of his pocket, put it in the tape player he kept out of sight at his side, and pressed the play button, “Now girls, do not go and freak out,” it played a monotone mechanical voice, “if you have not noticed yet, I have stitched together your lips, I am almost sure you do not remember that. You both have been very good so far, very silent.” The emotionless tone cackled, and he sneered. “Right now I will be asking you a few questions; if you answer correctly you will not be harmed. Are…You…Ready?” he looked at both girls, waiting for both of their answers. They nodded vaguely, not really sure what else to do. “Alright then,” He pulled out the tape and flipped it over, “Do you know where you are?” he stopped the tape, and looked at the suspended girl. She grabbed for the gold locket around her neck, remembering the look on her boyfriends face as she opened the pretty box. He had given it to her as an anniversary present, even though their anniversary was not for another month; he was leaving for the war the next week. She rubbed it with her finger tips as she looked around the little bit she could, her eyes frantic. She only saw a white room and cement floor; it was big and empty, she shook her head. He pressed play again, “You are wrong! Punishment!” the tape screamed, and her eyes grew to twice their normal size.

As he walked towards the girls, a malicious smile behind his mask, the hanging girl remembered back to her childhood; horror, fear and confusion flooded her pale features as she shut her eyes.
She was five years old again, and it was her father walking toward her. A beer in one hand and a leather belt in the other.

“Now Delilah, why did you have to go and upset me?” He asked in his deep southern accent, “You upset me greatly, now get the rag and clean up my beer!” she was backed up against the sink, one hand inside searching for something, anything, to clean up his beer. She broke down crying, her quest had failed. He reached toward her, grabbing her by the neck, she didn’t resist, she knew how bad it could get if she did. He threw her on the ground, placed his heavy work boot on her back, shoving her across the floor he wiped up the mess with her tiny body. She could hear and feel every bone in her back either pop out of place or break, but she did not make a sound. When he was satisfied he left her laying there, beer and dirt covering the front of her, and walked away mumbling something under his breath.

She opened her eyes again to see the girl still lying beneath her, shock on her face. The masked man stood to the side watching her, the tape player was again stopped. With her shaking hands she reached up and touched her face, this time gauze was wrapped entirely around her head. She found the end and started to unravel it, slowly at first, but went faster after getting impatient. He reached over and pressed play on the tape player. “Be careful now, you do not want to make it worse than it already is.” The tape slowly exclaimed, she looked at the man, his smile was vile. She slowed down to a pace even slower than before, as she threw the gauze to the side slowly it became bloodier. More and more her fright took over her, but she did not let it show; she learned how to hide her own fear before she was five years old. The final end of the bandages came; she took a deep breath before she felt her face.

He smiled, never showing any feelings, any sentiment. He thought back to his first time and how he was so scared that it would not work, but he never showed any emotion. He just stood to the side, not really sure what he would do after he tied the girl to the bed. He got through it, however, and loved having the power over everything; loved not knowing what he would come up with next.
2
She nearly jumped out of bed when she heard the loud bang on her front door. Quickly she got up to answer it, first making it out of the mess she called a bedroom, then through the not so neat living room, past bags of empty liquor beer bottles that still had to be taken out, grabbing her robe off the chair next to them, and finally to the door. Peeking through the peephole she saw no one was there. Rolling her eyes, she went back to bed, this time tripping over the empty bottles, still partly drunk and partly hung over from the night before. Halfway to her room, right next to the old holey couch, someone knocked on the door again, this time softly.

“Who is it!” She yelled over her shoulder to the door behind her. No one answered so she, again, started walking towards her bed. Again someone knocked on the door. Frustrated, she practically ran towards the door, trying not to trip on anything, thrust it open, and finding no one was there. Staggering further into the hallways, she looked just in time to see someone turn the corner. Hurriedly, she ran towards the end of the hallway, but as soon as she got there the person had disappeared. Outraged, she told her self that she would just go back to bed and ignore everyone that bothered her. Slipping back into her apartment, slamming the door behind her, she glanced at the clock as she slipped the chain in its slot on the door. “9:00 AM! What the hell is wrong with people these days! Has anyone heard of sleep?” She screamed as she again staggered to the mess of a bedroom to try and get back to sleep.

Two days later, she was dead and a lone man walked out of her apartment, closing the door quietly behind him. He left the building in complete silence, only nodding to the door man with a sly smile on his face as he left, thinking that he would never be seen here again.

“How did it happen?” The crime scene investigator asked the coroner, who stared at the poor girl’s body, the white rubber gloves pinching his skin. He examined the girl’s fingernails, scraping them with a q-tip for evidence. “There are ligature marks on her neck, and a rope found at the other end of the crime scene.” The CSI just nodded his head and examined the girl; her hair looked smooth like the suspect had brushed her hair when he was done. Her legs were together, and crossed at the ankles, her arms on top of her stomach.
“It almost looks like he prepared her for a funeral.” A CSI intern said over the coroner’s shoulder. “McAllister, did you check the room for any sign of who she is?”
“Yes, I found a couple of credit cards and Identification cards in her wallet; she is a Ms. Sarah Cartani. Twenty-four years old, student at the university. Looks like she had partied over the weekend, I’ll go talk to the manager to see what he knows.” He started walking out of the apartment, going over a checklist in his head.
“I’ve already done that, Greer. She said that the victim is a good student at the university, and works part time at Photography Incorporated as an assistant manager. The victim even went around to every apartment in the building letting everyone know of her party, saying it was for a having a good year at school and to celebrate the end of it. She was a good person, a good tenant and it appears that she the little old ladies with their laundry and groceries.” He sighed heavily, shaking his head at the victim.

“You got all that from the management of the building?” Michael Greer asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, evidently she is one of the “little old ladies” she helped.” They both nodded and went on investigating the crime scene and the victim before the coroner moved the body out of the crime scene for further examination.
George McAllister walked through the steel doors of the autopsy room, and walked towards the coroner leaning over the girl on the steel table. “Well the substance under her finger nails happened to be skin, from her attacker most likely. Michael is running the DNA through the Police Database to find a possible match.”
“Well it looks as if she was about two months pregnant, did she have a boyfriend? A lover?” Aaron Radcliff, the coroner, informed him.

3
He watched her as her hands slowly made their way up to her face; she looked like she was about to pass out from the fear that he knew was taking over her. Her hands desperately searched from her chin, to her nose, to her forehead, where she found it. A wet substance seeped through her fingers, when she raised them she found blood had soaked her hand, she felt her face again. Finding he had cut the skin on her forehead completely off, she searched again having felt something on her bone; she felt through the never ending amount of blood to figure out what it was. His eyes widened when she realized he had carved into her skull the letters W-H-O-R-E. She passed out, from loss of blood and shock.

He reached over and pressed play, “See what happens when you sleep around, Anna?” the voice expressed. The girl on the ground turned to look at him, her neck almost snapping, shock covered her eyes. He smiled his crooked smile at her. “Yes I know your name! I did my research on both of you; you both lead very interesting but different lives. Please do be careful you do not turn out like the whore above you. That would be bad.” He stopped the tape, and shuffled towards them again. He wrapped the gauze around the girl’s head again, gave her a small shot, untied her and dragged her by the hair to the corner of the room. He stood there gawking at her curvaceous body, slowly licking his lips behind his mask. He knelt down next to her, watching her chest move up and down slowly and steadily; the dreams she was having made her eyes move vertically behind her closed eyelids.
4

“Now why won’t you listen to me!” she screamed at her son, “You HAVE to go to school so you can become more smart than your momma, do you hear me?” He just stared down at his muddy shoes, tracing the lines in the linoleum floor with the tip. “Look at me now, look at me!” she screamed, grabbing his face with her finger tips, her self-manicured nails digging into his childlike skin, his first pimple just barley starting to come in right next to her French-tipped thumb. He looked up at her with his light brown eyes, pleading with his eyes for her not to tell her boyfriend about his not wanting to go to school. Her expression softened as she looked into his eyes. “Now I know what you’re thinkin’, I won’t tell your daddy, but only if you go to school.” A tear fell down his cheek. He did not want to tell his mom the truth about why he did not want to go was because he was afraid of the other kids making fun of his ‘hand-me-down’ thrift shop clothes, and the bruises on his cheeks. “Answer me now, Son, why do you not wan-ta go to school? It’s your first day; I promise it won’t be as bad as you’re thinkin’.”

“I…I…I’m just afraid…afraid…afraid…” he stuttered
“Of what now, Son!! Come on! Out with it!” she screamed impatiently at him, hands on her hips, her lips pursed and almost turning white.
“Of…the other…kuh…kuh...kids…making fun of….muh…muh…me.” A look of exhaust took over his face as he looked back up at his mother, hoping she would understand. Instead of an understanding look, a blank look took over her eyes as she ran a hand through her messy hair. She looked down at her bare feet and negligee she was still wearing from the night before.

“You’re going to school, you little shit, and I don’t wan-ta hear another word bout it.” She turned him around and shoved him out the door, locking it behind him. He turned and stared at the closed door, another tear falling from his red puffy eyes. He slowly made his way to his new school, walking as slow as possible; quietly hoping that by the time he got there it would be time to go home. His first day of school was just as bad as he thought it would be, the kids not only made fun of his stutter and his clothes, but they also made fun of his unwashed greasy hair and southern accent. He looked to his new teacher for help, she just laughed along with the kids, ignoring his desperate pleading eyes.

When his first day was finally over, he slowly made his way home, silently hoping that by the time he got there his mom and her boyfriend would already be drunk and passed out. His wishful thinking only came partly true; they were drunk but wide awake. He heard their drunken laughter from down the block, the new neighbors were outside staring at the house, and watched him walk up to it hesitantly. He looked back at them for help, but the neighbors just looked away, wondering if he would come back out again or not.
He turned the door knob slowly, and listened closely to the door creaking open. His mother’s head turned first, her small pupils adjusting to the sudden burst of light inside the dark house. Her drunken smile turned to a frown when she realized her son had opened the door instead of her drug dealer. “School wasn’t as bad as you had thought, huh?” She said sarcastically, her face twisting with every word, not noticing or caring if the shiner on his cheek was new or old. Her boyfriend immediately got off the couch and stumbled over to the door, hovering over him and slamming the door shut.
“In or out.” He smirked.
“Johnny, come on now sit down, leave the little bastard alone. He probably has homework to do.” She slurred, holding out her hand for her boyfriend to take, but he ignored her request and stood there staring at her son.
“What the hell are you staring at you little shit? Think you’re a man! Want to fight like a man?” he screamed at the boy, who was cowering in the corner of the door. He grabbed the boy by the throat, slamming him against the wall. “Don’t fuck with the man of this house!” He growled into the boys face, his eyes shut and welling up with tears. He dropped the boy and again stumbled to the couch again, opening another beer with the corner of what used to be a nice coffee table. The boy looked at his mom for help, but she just smiled her sarcastic smile and took a swig of her beer, returning to the conversation they were having before he walked in.
5

Blinking his eyes he stared down at the girl, trying to figure out where he was and who was lying naked in front of him with the bandage on her forehead. Reality struck him and he punched Delilah in her stomach, making her sit up straight from the blow, and slamming back to the ground with a thump.
He reached to the side and dragged a knife across the floor, making a loud scratching sound, to get Anna’s attention. She turned her head towards him, trying to persuade him with her red eyes. He clicked the tape player on again, “I’m sorry Anna, I forgot to introduce you two, though she is rude and sleeping, this is Delilah. Delilah this is Anna.” A tear fell down Delilah’s sleeping face as he lightly drew the blade across her silky skin, pressing down harder with every swipe; blood soon followed the knife across her small stomach. He looked up at Anna, who was no longer watching but instead had her eyes closed, tears falling like it was raining behind her eyelids. He got up irately and marched out the door, slamming it behind him. The door clicked open minutes later, and his head popped through the crack.
The tape player clicked on, “I have a surprise for you both, and this time you will have to watch, Anna darling.” He smiled behind his mask his wicked smile and appeared in front of the door with a gleaming axe in his hands. “Open your eyes, Anna.” He stared at her, waiting patiently for her to look at him again. “Open your eyes, Anna.” an edgy tone in the tape player voice demanded. She slowly opened her eyes, tears falling from her eyes like drops of blood from a pricked finger. A look of horror, shock and repulsion took over the expression on her face, and she turned pasty white. He lifted the axe over his head and slammed it down on Delilah’s body, watching Anna’s stunned expression as he cut through the bone and raw flesh of Delilah’s beautiful waist.

He caught his breath and dragged her back towards the middle of the room, hanging her up by the arms; instead of legs and feet, a red hole ended her body below her waist. Anna turned her head, not really wanting to look up at the half body, blood running everywhere. A worried look took over her face when Delilah started moaning, the weak sedative he had given her was wearing off. She looked around the room, seeing her masked captor cleaning up a thick line of blood and looked below her to see if Anna was still there; tears fell down her face and she screamed in agony, no longer seeing her legs. She looked up at him, expecting to see at least a small look of sorrow, but his expression was blank. She took a deep breath, exhaling heavily. A few minutes later she realized her mouth was no longer wired shut; she opened her mouth again and tried to say something, but found no words. She hung there, mouth open, searching for something-anything- to say.

He stood in the corner by the door, watching the girls, making no movement or sound. After a few minutes he reached into his boot and removed a silver knife. He walked towards the girls, the fear growing in their eyes, and bent down next to Anna, running his hand down the dry red sheet. He clutched the knife in his hand and dragged it down the mass, slowly pealing off the dried blood like it was a wet blanket; staring at her naked body as the sheet unraveled.
Delilah watched the whole thing, taking her last struggles for air with her mouth open; she became more ashen as the minutes dragged on. “I’m sorry.” She said weakly, using her last breath, and her head hung flaccidly. Tears streamed down Anna’s cheeks, knowing that they had been through so much together without even saying a word to each other. He pulled wire cutters from his pocket and cut the wire from her lips, making them bleed again.
Without feelings or remorse, he took Delilah’s body down and dragged her out of the room, leaving another trail of blood, and Anna sitting up with her knees against her chest, picking dried pieces of blood off her arms.
“Is that how I am going to die?” She asked as her captor left the room. “You’re going to bleed me to death?” She flicked another piece onto the floor, anger in her eyes. He did not even look at her as he passed through the doorframe, the door clicked behind him, echoing in the empty room. She laid down on the cool floor, her eyes closing with the weight of the day heavily pressing on them.
6

Everything was pitch black, so she felt her way to a wall and found a light switch. She was back in the empty room, but the line of blood was gone and door was open. She stared at it for a few minutes and took a few steps towards it, reaching with her shaking hand for the door handle. She blinked her eyes and suddenly there was a black cat in the middle of the door frame, sitting there staring at her. It reminded her of the ‘Cheshire Cat’ on the movie Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, making her smile, a sweet remembering smile. When she blinked again the cat was gone, and she was in a different room; her bedroom.
She stood in front of her bed looking in the mirror across the room at a reflection of someone she did not recognize. The girl in the reflection held the black cat in her arms, holding her hand out towards Anna, beckoning Anna towards her with her baby blue eyes. Anna held out her own hand, and closed her eyes.
She stood like that for a few minutes with nothing happening, opened her eyes again and realized she was in another room, and the girl was gone. A man stood in front of her instead, his hands behind his back and an evil look his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, her mind was blank. The man let his hands drop to his sides, an axe in one and a saw in the other. She turned on her heels and ran in the other direction, running straight into a wall and falling backwards, knocking her self out.
7

She woke up a little while later, in the empty room again; an army green wool blanket was wrapped around her naked body. She ran her hand through what she thought was going to be a snarled mass of hair, and instead found it newly washed and brushed. In the center of the room a new body was suspended from the ceiling, where Delilah had once been.
“What are you staring at me like that for?” She chided barley above a whisper, looking down as soon as she said it, as if hoping he did not hear her question. Daggers flared through his eyes at her, sitting naked against the wall with her knees to her chest. They both turned to stare that the body hanging from the ceiling when she started to wake up. Anna noticed that she too had her lips wired shut and dried blood ran down her fair neck.
She could hear him behind her, walking at the same pace he did, same steps she made. She tried walking faster, thinking maybe it was just a coincidence that he was walking at her pace. He just sped up, like he was playing a game, trying to scare her. She turned the corner, turning her head to get a look at who was following her, black hair was all she saw.
A hand came out of an alley and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the dark alley. She turned her head just in time to see the black haired mystery man turn to walk into the alley. “Okay I’ve got her, now whatever you do with her is your choice; I don’t want to have a thing to do with it.” The person that grabbed her whispered, as he threw her behind a couple of crates. He walked away without another word, not even glancing back to see if she was going to be alright.
Slowly the black haired man approached her, with a malicious smile on his tan face. He pulled a small needle out of his right hand coat pocket, covered her mouth with his hand, and stabbed her arm with the needle, pushing the clear liquid into her veins. She could feel it rush though her blood, cold at first but warming up after only a few seconds. Her eyes grew heavy, and everything turned blurry; the black haired man just stared at her like he was interested in her reaction to the drug he had given her.

She was riding in a black car, outside it was black, and the driver was just a black figure turning the steering wheel. She went to ask him a question, but her words did not form in her mouth. Feeling like she needed a drink, she brought the bottle in her hands up to her mouth, not thinking twice about what could be in the bottle. She stared out the window, wondering why it was so dark all the time, why could it not be light once. Suddenly she saw a blink of a light, in the distance. She screamed for the driver to stop, but he did not listen, he just kept driving. She screamed at him that she saw a light, that she needed to see what the light was, but he still would not listen, just kept driving.
She sat back in her seat and cried, for she would never know what the light was. The driver slowly started to disappear, as she started waking to the cold reality of what happened to her. Her head pounded from the drug she was given, she wanted to rub her eyes, but could not move her hands. She slowly opened her eyes, which felt like ten pound weights were keeping them shut. When everything finally came into focus, after what felt like ten minutes, she realized that she was upside down. She looked up, and saw her ankles had chains around them, which were attached to steel beam in the ceiling. She looked around a bit, only seeing a girl sitting in the corner, with a green wool blanket wrapped around her. She tried to talk, but her lips would not move. The girl just stared at her, horror in her eyes. She closed her eyes, wishing her head would stop pounding; feeling like it was going to explode. When she opened them again, the girl with the blanket was standing next to her, staring at her lips in wonder.

“My name is Anna, don’t try and talk because you can’t.” she comforted. She looked around the room, thinking it was all a joke her friends were pulling on her. Anna could see the questions in her eyes, and shook her head. “The man that brought you here, brought me here as well, I don’t know who he is or what he wants, but I know he’s murdered two people since I’ve been here. He’s a monster that will not even use his own voice, he uses a tape player that he’s prerecorded…its like he knows what you’re going to say…” she pondered, barley above a whisper. “I honestly think he has cameras all around this room, and is watching us right now, he seems like he would be a pervert like that.” She adjusted the blanket around her body, suddenly uncomfortable just standing there. The locked clicked and the door handle turned, the man in the mask slowly popping his head through the opening.

He opened the door a little bit more, and walked further into the room. He stood in front of the girls, staring at them with marvel in his eyes. “What is it you want from us?” Anna exclaimed, barley above a whisper. He looked from her to the hanging girl, and brought out his tape player. Anna looked down at her bare feet, her toe nails were no longer painted the pink she had painted them before she was abducted.

"Anna, meet your new cell mate,” the tape player chuckled, “Kris. Or is it Kristina? I don’t really think she will mind if you call her either one.” Anna glanced at the hanging girl, distress in her eyes.
“You, stupid little bitch! How could you do this to me? I worked so hard to keep this family together, to keep us happy and with a home, and you have to go and do this shit? I can’t believe you!” He screamed at her in his deep English accent. She just stared at him with her gray eyes, challenging him to do his worst. He raised his sweaty palm to his forehead, and with the blink of an eye brought it across her face, sending her flying to the side. “How am I going to fix this? How?” He deliberated to himself, staring at his kaki loafers. A drop of blood fell in front of his toe, barley missing his shoe. Anger flooded through him as he looked up to see her holding her face; her red manicured fingernails pressing against her cheekbone. “You almost bled on me! I can’t believe you almost bled on me.” She looked over at the television; Cole on the movie The Sixth Sense was telling his mother about his ‘ability to see ghosts’. She could not help but wish that she was anyone else but her self, anywhere else but her self.
“You’re just like my father! I do not know why I have stayed with you for so long! I really don’t!” She jumped to her feet and ran for the front door, with her boyfriend on her heals.
“Don’t be stupid now Kristina, you know you will not leave me for long. You will end up crawling back to me, like a lost puppy, when you realize that you can not live without me.” He slammed his hand against the oak door, preventing her from opening it.
“What are you talking about? I just went to the doctor because I found a sore on my vaginal area and she told me it was a Sexually Transmitted Disease. I’m lucky that it is curable and not with me for life! Now the only person I’ve been with is you! Why do you not understand that concept?” She cried, trying desperately to open the door he held closed.
“You went to the doctor! You know you’re not supposed to leave the house without my permission!” He seized her arm and heaved her across the room, sending her into a side table and knocking over a lamp. “See what you did, you stupid bitch! I can not believe you tonight!” he grabbed her black hair forcing her to turn her swollen red face to look at him, detest was in her eyes.
“Just tell me who she is, that is all I want to know.” She drew up her face like there was a drawstring tightening at the top of her head. She held her head high, expecting the worst to come out of his mouth. “Tell me if you love her, tell me why you can not let me leave, tell me the truth for once!” She challenged, her voice cracking after every word.
“I don’t have to tell you anything, I don’t have to tell you about the fact that you are just a mistress, and my real wife is at my real house waiting for me every night with dinner on the table, and is extremely disappointed when I don’t come home at night, because I’m here taking care of your sorry ass! I don’t have to tell you that I’ve slept with five girls a night since I met you; most of them are probably hookers. I don’t HAVE to tell you about anything I do not want to tell you about, that is my human right!” He told her as calmly as he could, looking in the mirror to fix his hair.
“You disgust me.” She slapped his hand away, when he tried to touch her face. She grabbed her purse off the counter and walked out of the oak door, out of the house that she was locked up in for days at a time, never being allowed outside by her self. Tears fell from her eyes as she opened the door to her Jeep and put the keys in the ignition. She did not even bother to put on her seatbelt as she backed out of the driveway, and turned on her car lights.
Her cell phone started ringing when she stopped at the corner of her street, but she did not bother to look at it, she knew who it was. Instead she grabbed the phone from his purse and threw it out of the window, no longer caring about the man she had just spent the last five years with.
She pulled into the parking lot of a bar; with the last five dollars she had in her pocket she could at least get a shot. She slowly made her way to the dingy brown door, the music inside made it jump on its hinges. She made her way through the crowd and ordered her self a shot of Goldschlager from the barmaid. She sat there for a few minutes, with guys staring at the bruises on her arms and cheeks, none of them really bothering to ask her if she was alright. She just stared at the gold flakes left on the bottom of her shot glass before handing it back to the barmaid and walking out the grimy door again.

“Are you okay, Miss?” a stranger asked her, lightly touching her arm. She looked at him, looked down at his hand and smiled. His kind, concerned, face made a tear roll out of her eyes; she just nodded and continued out of the door. She turned right, instead of going straight to her car, deciding she might as well check out the other bars down the street, having no where else to go and nothing else to do.
8

“Anna Cordova to the office please, Anna Cordova to the office please.” The intercom announced in the small class room. The kids chanted “you’re in trouble, you’re in trouble.” she gave them instructions as she walked out of the blue door, “Finish up your reading assignment and I do not want to hear a peep when I am gone. If you even make a peep or so much as move more than the pages in your book, you will get homework tonight.” She gave them a stern look, and watched the fourth graders stare into their books.
“Anna darling, wake up. Wake up Anna.” The mechanical voice beckoned her; she could feel the warmth of the wool blanket as she woke up on the cement floor. “Your dreams were making you smile, Anna. What were you dreaming?” He peered through his mask at her with questions flooding out of his eyes. She looked down at the floor, hoping in her mind that he would just leave her alone. He nodded his head, pressed stop on his tape player and walked out of the room.
She glanced up at Kristina, hoping that she was awake, but her eyes remained closed to the world; her petite chest consistent with every breath. Anna closed her eyes again, seeing the masked man behind them like a picture engraved in her eyelids. She picked her self up off the cold floor, tightening the blanket around her shoulders. She slowly made her way to the closed door, the bottoms of her feet leaving marks on the iced cement. Her hand reached for the gold doorknob, praying that it was unlocked, praying that something was behind that door. She turned the doorknob, finding it was locked from the other side. Something gleamed in the corner of her eye; she glanced down to see a small silver key adjacent to the doorframe. She picked it up, and held it in her hands as if it was vital to her freedom; her eyes wide and her heart thumping with excitement and fear.

“Here are your keys, Ma’am. Ma’am?” the clerk held out the copied silver keys. Confused, she stared at them before slipping them into her purse. She walked away from the counter; her crimson high-heals clicking on the tile floor, with each step. She hastily left the Wal-Mart store making her way through the crowded parking lot towards her car. Accidentally dropping her keys while unlocking her car, she virtually jumped out of her skin. Finally entering her car, she glanced around before inserting the key into the ignition, suspicious that someone had been following her through out the store.
‘Relax, Anna. Just relax.’ She closed her eyes and told her self repeatedly, she put her car in gear and backed out of the parking spot. She left the parking lot,