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In my anger I kick the tray of food and water, sending it crashing into the wall. I scream at the window, hitting the wall with my fists over and over. The outburst doesn’t even help a little bit because my situation is the same.
By nightfall I truly have no voice left, not even a smidge enough to hum with. My throat is dry and sore and the room is getting too warm and too gross.
I revert back to a foetal position and cry silent tears. Twenty-four hours have now passed since the moment I was taken. My chances of being found just shrank by more than fifty percent.
When the door opens again, I close my eyes.
“Shower time, princess,” Roger sneers. I’ll never forget his voice, at least I’ll have that if I survive.
I want to tell him to leave me alone but he’s huge and I already know he’s not ashamed to hurt me.
Trembling, I allow myself to be dragged from the room with his hand gripping my bicep. He whistles as we go back down the long hall, the way we came. We pass the same table that the men were playing cards at but it’s empty. I wonder where everybody is until we push a door open at the far end that leads to a spacious, white room with multiple cubicles for showers.
“I even got you a pretty little nightie for afterwards,” he tells me, pointing to a red, satin gown with spaghetti strap shoulders hanging from a hook by the door.
“Please,” I croak as what exactly is about to happen sinks in.
He closes the door behind him but not before somebody else steps inside.
“Please don’t. I’ll shower. I promise.”
“Yes,” the second man who brought my food earlier replies. “You will.”
He steps into the cubicle ahead with nothing but a thin white curtain to cover it from wall to wall. It’s tossed to the side, the bottom trailing slightly on the surprisingly clean floor.
I look up, finding the man’s eyes, hoping if he sees into mine he’ll have mercy or pity. Anything.
Instead his blue eyes which look so innocent, darken with lust and he pulls me under the hot spray, fully clothed.
He lifts his T-shirt above his head, showing his tattooed chest and beer gut. I look away as the hot water hits the top of my head.
Thick fingers grip the hem of my top. I cry and try to pull away as he yanks it over my head.
“Please,” I beg, falling to my knees in a shallow puddle of warm water, keeping my arm over my bra-clad breasts. “Don’t do this. I won’t recover.”
They don’t reply as they yank me to my feet.
I find my voice, screaming and begging as my bra is ripped away and Roger hungrily sucks my wet, pointed nipple into his mouth. Now I wish I’d fought to eat that food so I’d have something to vomit on them.
“STOP!” I beg but Blue-Eyes forces his tongue into my mouth. I bite on it, hard, until I taste blood and he punches me full force in the temple to get me off, straight into the side already bruised from the pipes. Pain radiates through my head as I fall to the side, directly into Roger’s arms. He laughs as his friend spits blood onto the floor and then rips down my trousers.
My fight instincts kick in and I use what little energy I have to save myself. I kick, scratch, punch, bite, scream. Every part of me bucks, tenses and flails in an attempt to make this stop but it’s no use.
They overpower me so easily I’m naked in less than two minutes and they’re both rubbing me with soap until satisfied that I’m clean.
“It’s been so fucking long since I had cunt,” Roger rumbles, slapping my bare mound with so much force my knees buckle from the pain.
Blue-Eyes drops me as I slide from his arms but he uses this moment to pull down his jeans, showing me his hardened flesh.
“Suck it,” he demands as I look up at him and my anger overrides my fear.
“Suck what?” I reply, shifting away from him, my defiant gaze staring right at it as my body curls into a ball. “I’ve seen maggots bigger.”
Roger laughs as though this is hilarious but it stops with a gasping choke as a hand wraps around his throat. All I can see is an arm, tense and bulging. For a moment I feel hope that I’m about to be saved but then that thought comes crashing down.
Blue-Eyes steps away from me with raised hands. “Captain… we were just… she wouldn’t shower.”
“We didn’t mean anything,” Roger chokes, his voice so strained it can hardly be heard over the sound of the rushing water.
I see a glint out of the corner of my eye when a blade is flipped from a black handle in a strong, tattooed hand. My heart hammers. This is their captain. Does he know I’m here? Will he save me?
