Page 68 of B-ry
“Fuck!” he roared, causing me to flinch and my eyes to open.
There he was, his limp dick just inches away from my face. He tugged at it and even slapped it a few times but it wouldn’t come to life. There was something seriously wrong here. I mean, more than what was already going on. I couldn’t help it, I looked up into his eyes. The frustration was so apparent in his face.
Part of my insecurities started to kick in. You know, those thoughts. I wasn’t pretty enough. I was too skinny. My hair was too boring. Yes, those self-deprecating thoughts that always kept a person down.
Only, I pushed them away as quickly as they came. Because for once, it wasn’t me and I knew it. It was his sick, twisted brain. It became more obvious the longer the seconds ticked on and nothing happened.
“You can’t, can you?” I said boldly.
“Shut the fuck up!”
“I’m too old for you, aren’t I? You sick freak!”
“I said shut the fuck up, bitch!”
“You raped your own sister, you disgusting monster,” I said and all but attempted to spit on him. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that was what he was trying to confess in his insane rant, but I felt like I was pretty much right.
“You can’t rape whores,” he said and there was an odd, eerie calmness in his tone. “But you can kill them.”
Pain radiated through my head as he struck my face again.
“Since he didn’t come for you, I’ll just have to bring you to him.”
With everything I had left in me, I fought. I managed to get one of my arms unpinned but it did nothing to stop him. His fingers were in my hair again, gripping so tightly I could feel the roots pulling free. My head bounced off of the hard floor. And again. When I screamed, his nasty hand covered my mouth in an attempt to muffle the shrill sound.
Lines of light shot through my vision and I swore I was seeing stars. I felt the urge to vomit and I didn’t care if I did. I couldn’t think.
Then I went limp, figuring that it was best to let him think that I had passed out or lost consciousness or something. Maybe then he would put me back in the cage and leave me alone. Something. Just anything but this.
Suddenly, there was a noise in the distance. Like a banging but I couldn’t place where it was coming from. And a voice followed. I barely heard it over the ringing in my ears. It sounded like someone was calling out, telling him to open the door.
Just like that, he released me and stood. I could hear his heavy breaths but I didn’t move.
“Fucking shit.” His voice was mostly calm, but I could hear the slight irritation in his tone. “Yeah, hold the fuck on!”
There was a rustling and the sound of a zipper again right before his footsteps crossed the room toward the door.
I waited a good long minute after the door opened and closed. There was muffled talking somewhere in the house. As the voices began to rise and sounded like they were getting angrier with every word, I decided that it was now or never.
I stood, my legs so shaky I thought I was going to go down again. I stumbled as quietly as possible over to the window in the corner. It was covered with a thick curtain that made the room mostly dark even in the middle of the day. Instead of pulling it back, I slid in behind it.
I blinked at the bright light and waited for my eyes to adjust. My fingers fumbled for the lock and I flicked without another thought. But as I tried to push the window open I realized that it wasn’t budging even a little. It looked like it had been painted shut.
No.
This couldn’t be the end.
I refused to believe that it was.
My eyes scanned the outside area to see if there was anyone around. There were houses. It was some kind of older neighborhood but I couldn’t place which one. Maybe I wasn’t even in the same town anymore. That didn’t matter. I just had to get out.
I tried the window again, pushing up on the top of the bottom pane until the wood cut into my palms so hard it burned. It let out a low groan as it inched its way up. Then it wouldn’t move again. There was barely enough room for me to stick my hand out let alone my whole body.
No matter what angle I tried, I couldn’t get it to lift anymore.
I was about ready to give up and cry. Then I remembered the metal folding chair that he sat in as he watched me. As quietly as I could, I ran over and grabbed it. I saw his phone sitting right there on the tiny table next to the chair. I didn’t hesitate to grab that too. I folded the chair up as I made my way back over to the window.
I shoved as much of the chair in the tiny crack as I could. I held onto the opposite end and tossed all the body weight that I could without toppling over onto the other side.
