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He can’t get what he wants most in the world if I’m not able to give it to him. I plunge the knife deeper for extra measure trying to make sure I destroy every single thing he desires.
He’s not getting a baby from me.
He’s not going to control me.
I’d rather risk a painful death than live a second longer in this Hell.
I joltawake to a dull phantom pain shooting through my stomach. My chest is on fire, and sweat soaks my hair. I try to calm my breathing, but it felt so fucking real.
My hand lands on my stomach, expecting to be drenched in a warm crimson substance, but all I feel is the softness of my flesh. My stomach is intact and knife free. No blood. No knife. My eyes shoot to the floor beside me. Empty. No boots. It was all just some fucked up nightmare. Or maybe it was a vision of what’s in store for me.
My hand shoots to the inside of my left arm, feeling around for the familiar bump. Once my fingers find it, I breathe a sigh of relief. My birth control is still there, right where I expect it to be. Thank God. Thank God he hasn’t figured that out yet. He’d cut it out just like he did the tracker. The last thing I remember was Zayan shoving pills down my throat and telling me to look pretty for the camera. I don’t even remember seeing a camera. I honestly have no idea what he did to me, considering he gave me enough drugs to knock my ass out flat.
That same pain flares through me again, but this time it’s from the hunger pains begging me to eat. I can’t remember the last time I had food. I roll over onto my side to give my cuffed left arm a little relief. He’s been switching back and forth between ropes and handcuffs to keep my arms bound, and I can’t say I enjoy either of them. He’ll do anything to fuck with my head. Every time I think he’s going to let me be free, he rips away that hope just because he can.
My whole body throbs from the hits I’ve taken, so I’m not sure why I even try to get relief; it won’t come. My eyes don’t move from the wall when the door flings open and Zayan’s voice drowns out the silence.
“Oh good, you’re awake. My cock is ready to play with his favorite girl.” I drown it all out at this point. It’s the same thing as all the other times. This won’t end until something happens.
There are three options. I escape, Zayan dies, or I die.
This isn’t how I want to live. I’ll die trying to escape if I have to. I have no one to trust but myself.
This is my war, and I’m going to end it.
The thunderous thumping in my chest isn’t enough to drown out my racing thoughts. Lying in wait for the next attack is torturous. All I can do is think about my family. I wonder if they even realize what’s going on. My parents probably think I’m off enjoying the world with Zayan, not locked away being tortured. Of course, they probably have no idea. I left with him like I didn’t have a care in the world because I was too scared and too in shock to fully realize what was going on. All I can picture are their bright, smiling faces waving me off with Zayan.
Unless Rush has told them by now and they actually listen to him, they have no clue that Zayan is a monster. I should have told them a long time ago, but I wasn’t sure they would believe me. They’re so close to Zayan’s family; they even stayed in contact with them after Zayan just went missing, and think very highly of them. My parents would never believe those well-respected people could have an abuser for a son.
I’d do anything to be back at my parents’ house right now. To feel that comfort and the way they nag on me. I want to hear Papa’s sweet, but annoying, laugh after he makes some cheesy joke that doesn’t make sense. Hell, I’d even take Mama’s disappointed scowl at this point. I love my parents so much that my heart breaks at the thought of never seeing them again.
They may not know I’m missing, but Rush does. He has to know by this point; he’s too intuitive and protective not to know. I’m sure he sensed it as soon as Marnix returned to the car. I see it in Rush’s eyes every time he looks at me that he cares about me beyond his job title. My heart sinks as I think about how I’ll never get to meet the family he loves so much. He’d do anything to give them the world. He’s a big scary fucker, but he has a heart of gold.
Then there’s my sweet, wild Cohutta. He’s always there to make me laugh. I’m constantly in awe of him. He’s so damn talented and doesn’t even realize it. His work is perfect, down to every tiny detail. What I would give to see just one more of his sketches before I die in this hell hole. There’s the side of him he tries to hide from everyone, one that I could see easily the more I got to know him. He makes jokes and does the class clown act to cover up his actual pain. He’s gone through a lot of shit and has a ton of issues stemming from that, but none that he wants anyone to see. He’s slowly been letting me uncover that side of him, making me fall for him even more.
Most importantly, though, there’s me. As despair tries to suffocate me, I have to remain strong. I have to remind myself of my power, of my abilities and strength.
Over the years, I’ve learned that I am the one in charge of my future, my well-being, and my happiness. I control my destiny. If I can’t count on myself or love myself, how can I expect anyone else to give a shit about me? I promised myself after Zayan left that I wouldn’t depend on anyone else to make me happy. I promised myself that I would do what I wanted, when, and how I wanted. I’ve stayed true to that, and I don’t plan on going back.
I need to choose myself before anyone. I can’t let Zayan have my soul again. I’m not the same young, dumb teenager who thought he hung the moon. No. I’m Tara fucking Mangal, badass bitch, warrior, and survivor. If that’s what it takes to light a fire under my ass, I’ll keep repeating it to myself over and over again.
Zayan Pravesh, you no longer have control over my life.
Zayan Pravesh, you are nothing more than a nightmare I’m going to vanquish.
Zayan Pravesh, you will wish you never met me because I’m about to become a living terror ready to rip you apart piece by piece.
I need to get out of here, and I fucking will. The best chance I have is right now. Zayan just left and won’t return for a while. That’s his routine. He fucks me, beats me, taunts me, and then leaves me alone to lie in wait for what may be hours or possibly even days, wondering when he’ll return to unleash his torment again. It’s all a mind game to him. Hell, the only time I leave this bed is when he takes me to the nasty bathroom connected to the room.
It’s easy to break someone physically, but the bigger challenge is breaking their spirit. Zayan always did love a challenge, though this time I won’t let him succeed. Since I’ve been here, I’ve gone through every range of emotions. I’ve wanted to fight, die, cry, scream, and beg. I’ve thought about giving up so many times, but I never have. I’ve remained strong, and now it’s time to prove to myself that I can do this.
I shake the cuff digging into my skin. The metal pole of the headboard it’s connected to doesn’t budge as I yank with all my strength. I’m weak from lack of food and water, but I have to keep trying. The only way I’m escaping is if I get this cuff off. Thinking about what I need to do sends goosebumps down my spine, but the cost of freedom is worth going through pure torment.
Thankfully, there’s a minuscule gap on the cuff from Zayan not tightening it as far as it could go.You can do this. You can do this.Taking a deep breath, trying to psych myself up, I use my free hand to steady the cuff while pulling as hard as possible. The skin around my wrist and thumb joint begins to burn and peel the harder I pull, turning a bright shade of red.
A cry bubbles deep in my throat, but I clamp it down as I pull harder. My hand feels like it’s on fire from the agony. My body shakes from the pain, but I keep going. I can’t give up no matter how bad it hurts. Releasing the cuff, I take a moment to regain my composure, grabbing the flat pillow from behind me so I can bite down on it before I break my teeth.
Sucking in as much air as I can, I prepare for the pain again. I’m going to get it this time. Just a little bit more and I’ll be free. A few more moments of torture for a lifetime of freedom. I yank as hard as possible, putting all my strength into it. The cuff bends my thumb forward, folding it inward until the bones crack. Excruciating pain shoots through my hand as I keep pulling the cuff. My heart beats rapidly as my entire body shakes uncontrollably. Sweat coats my brow, and my jaw clamps down on the pillow with my teeth grinding into the cotton. It takes everything in me not to cry out.
