Vengence

         It must have been months now, since she woke up in the cold, dirty room, a dreary, dull blue covering the lot of it. It was always dark, except for the moonlight and occasional sprig from the sun. The place smelt it of rotting corpses. There was nothing in this room but a broken chair, and a fireplace that probably hadn’t been used in decades. Her hands were bound when she came to. That was her only restraint. A guard was always posted outside the door as well. These people, whoever they were, never worried about her running off because the only window to the room was boarded up, and after the first three weeks, her leg was broken. That wasn’t the only broken bone, and it wasn’t only broken once. Many injuries covered her body. Her dress was torn and stained with blood all over it. Her short, red hair scraggly and unclean, bruises, minor cuts and deep gashes were visible everywhere. She was lucky her bones hadn’t broken through the skin. She could no longer move. It hurt too much. After the third crack was felt in her legs, she never got up, except when forced to.

         People would come in at most five times a day, sometimes in groups, and sometimes by themselves, but always with black masks covering their eyes. She was a punching bag for these guys. They’d come in, take their anger out on her, and leave her feeling dead. She lay on the floor for a few hours, then another person or group would come in. Only once in the unthinkable time span she’d been there had no one come in all day. Sometimes only one person might come in, but not that day. Typically, when someone comes in, they wake her up for a morning beating, but they didn’t just on that one day. Many people didn’t return after that.

         Her bones never seemed to heal, and her cuts never did either. She thought she might look like one huge bruise, but didn’t know for sure.

         One night, she was in the middle of sleeping when someone poured freezing cold water over her. She woke up hacking, more so from a kick in the abdomen then from the water. “Get up,” the man growled, it was only one person this time. She used the wall to sturdy herself. It wouldn’t be wise to smart mouth these people. He came over to her and punched her in the face. This guy had been in two or three times a week since her arrival. He was a physical guy and liked to fight feisty ones. He was also a lonely man. Every time when he choked her, he’d back her up against the wall and force himself on her. Then, when he smacked her onto the floor, she stayed put. He dropped onto her, pushed into her and spit in her face. He did that once a week. “You’re filth,” he’d spit at her. “Garbage. You shouldn’t even be living. Scum of the Earth.” He caller her so many things she didn’t know or understand. All she knew was she had to keep quiet. When he was done, he’d leave her lying on the floor, blood streaming from all over. And this guy wasn’t the only one. Others did the same thing. The same twisted, perverse thing.

         Whenever someone was done with her, she wished she were dead. She’d been in that same position raped nearly every day for countless days. She didn’t understand, she was tired, and in need of hospitalization. The boss of the place must have said not to kill her. Do whatever you like, but don’t kill the bitch. It was tiring. After a minute or two, she’d fall back asleep and wait for the next beating.

         She was fed. Hallelujah. Three slices of bread, a slap of beef, and water, the same meal every bloody time. It wasn’t what you’d call a gourmet meal. The beef was never fully cooked, if at all, the bread was molding and the water tasted like soot. But if she didn’t eat she’d have no energy, get a worse beating, and get no meals for the next two days.

         She didn’t quite understand, but one day someone came in who didn’t want to beat her, or force himself on her. He didn’t want her to be broken anymore. The man said he could help her, heal her. All she needed to do was help him in return. The only other option she had was to die rotting in the room she’d been in for god only knows how long. There was no objection. She became the man’s willing slave.

         After some time in the hospital and weeks of rest, she was back to her normal healthy self, whoever that was. She didn’t have a name, nor parents. In fact, the first thing she ever remembered was waking up in that god-awful place. It hadn’t felt like more than a year went by from the time she awoke to the time she was saved, but with nothing else to go on, she assumed she’d been there her whole life. Rick, the man who rescued her, the man to whom she owed her life, assured her that she had a family, she had a life before that room. He promised to help her find her past, if she’d help him take revenge on those who had put her there. A fire ignited behind her eyes at the thought, and she gladly accepted.