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Eighty Two

TW// VIOLENCE

Aubrey Hart

I don't think I've ever gone this long without food in my life.

It's my fault for not eating anything the day I got taken, but still, I feel absolutely horrible. I'm given a little bit of water each day, but I've lost count of how many days I've been here at this point.

My wrists are raw from tugging too much at the rope holding them together. My entire body aches from being Ian's personal punching bag over my time in this dreary room. My hair is a knotted mess from being roughly handled while unconscious what feels like years ago. My mouth is so dry, not even my own saliva helps ease the dryness anymore. My face is breaking out from a lack of washing it like I usually do, and my hair feels disgustingly greasy by now. My necklace is gone, and Ian won't tell me what he did with it no matter how many times I ask. My fresh tattoo aches greatly, leading me to believe that it's infected.

I also haven't been taking my birth control pill since I obviously don't have it with me, and the second my period comes back, if this asshole doesn't give me something to wear for it, I'm going to lose my mind more than I already have every time I've seen his face. To my knowledge, it should take at least a couple of weeks for that to happen, but I have no idea how long I'm going to be here. If I'll ever make it out at all, for that matter.

I don't know if I've even reached the one week point yet. I've lost track of time, fading in and out of consciousness whenever he leaves the room since I've barely eaten or drank anything in what feels like forever.

It doesn't help that he always goes through the same damn routine every single day. He comes in, gives me water, then starts trying to touch me.

Every. Single. Day.

He tries to touch me, hurts me when I put up too much of a fight, and then starts threatening the people I care about to actually get a rise out of me. I think I've lost more water than I've taken in over my time here so far, being brought to tears when he mentions hurting Harry, Ruby, Jade, Zayn, Louis, Niall, my moms, or anyone else in my life.

Before I can allow myself more time to think, I hear the metal door open, my body stiffening in preparation as Ian cockily strides into the room with a plastic cup filled halfway with water. My dry mouth makes it impossible to act unbothered by the hydration, pathetically moving a bit in my seat in anticipation of the highlight of my day.

He roughly grabs onto my face with one hand, putting the cup to my lips and tipping it so the water makes its way down my throat. I feel the small fraction of liquid necessary for a person to intake daily make its way down my esophagus, reaching every organ in my body and giving them just enough to keep functioning.

Once the cup is empty, he brings it down to his side while still giving my face a once-over. I prepare myself for whatever snide comment he's about to make, anger already boiling inside of me from the sight of his face after the momentary satisfaction from the drink he gave me.

The water always gives me a bit of a confidence boost, my energy rising and giving me the stamina to argue with him like he deserves for as long as I can. It never lasts very long, but I can't let him think I'm some kind of pushover like I was when we dated.

"So much for being my pretty girl. You've got acne all over your face." He shakes his head with a pout to his lip, making me scowl as I try to formulate a comeback.

"I was never your pretty girl, asshole." My voice is scratchy from the amount of screaming I end up doing every day, the rasp extremely prominent along with a seemingly permanent soreness to my throat.