Flightless Bird

Shadowed Eyes

I awoke in a bed the next morning, unsure of my surroundings until I recognized the faint scent of cedar wood cologne.

Everything was sore, especially my stomach where they had operated.

I wasn't sure how I got here, but I knew I must've fallen asleep during the movie last night. I quickly wiped the grogginess from my eyes and sat up slowly, feeling my body pulsing with every pain. I hobbled over to a bathroom that was just besides the door, and caught my reflection as I washed my face.

My completion looked drawn, dark circles appearant and several bruises littering my face. They were small, though, and easily passed off as from the incident with Mr. Shreve. I looked as if I was drowning in the size small clothes from Mr. Knightly.

I looked away.

Hopefully, my dramatic accident at work won't have scarred or traumatized anyone.

Today must have been Saturday, if I was correct. I couldn't imagine what would happen if I came home to Samuel now, but it wouldn't be pretty. Maybe if I beg...

How pathetic.

My eyes were red, so I flushed my face again. I looked horrible!

I wanted nothing but to scrub my skin raw, but the soft creak of a door caught my attention.

I quickly dried my face, turning to meet Mr. Knightly at the door.

"Good morning." He said softly, simply. I looked to my feet.

"Good morning. Thank you for letting me stay...and for taking care of me," I responded, expressing my gratitude. He smiled, not seeming ashamed of my appearance in the slightest.

"Breakfast is ready," he said, nodding and turning for me to follow.

He made me breakfast?

How backward it felt, to not be the one making someone else their meal. My stomach gurgled softly at the smell of pancakes, and I smiled as I followed him down the stairs.

I noticed everything, from the way he walked, so smoothly and assuredly, to the way he dressed so casually, yet so expensively.

There was never a dull feature to the man.

"I trust your sleeping arrangements were comfortable?" He asked suddenly, approaching a grand chef's kitchen.

"I don't remember it so I suppose it was perfect." I joked.

"I see," he chuckled. He seemed in a lighter mood today, though guarded. "And what should we do today?"

"Today? I mean, surely you have better things to do than hang around with me." I stated, confused.

"Nonsense. And anyway, I don't trust that you'll be resting as you should if I let you out of my sight," he chortled. He had no idea how right he was.

"Fair point. I'm still pretty sore..." I trailed off. Images of past beatings flashed across my vision. I had only zoned out for what felt a few seconds, but it seemed long enough for Alexander to notice, and a deep furrow set in his brow.

"I really am sorry for not catching on...I had no idea what was happening. Mr. Shreve is absolutely off the table and has since been blackballed by his associates." He scowled at the name.

"It's okay, please...you've done so much for me, and there's no way you'd have known. I'm fine, really," I smiled reassuringly. I wasn't fine, but I was better than usual.

We ate in comfortable silence, and the food was delicious. They were probably some of the best pancakes I'd ever had! I cursed my small stomach for only letting me so little.

"That's all?" Mr. Knightly questioned. He was looking at my plate. My hands shook under the table in worry as I responded.

"I'm not too hungry this morning. That was the most delicious pancake I've ever had, though. I wish I had room for more," I voiced my thoughts.

He seemed dissatisfied but accepted it anyway, eyes trailing to my thin, petite figure. I felt myself blush and looked to the ground.

The awkward silence was crushing, but it too would pass.

——————

It was nearing 3 o'clock in the afternoon when Mr. Knightly dropped me at the corner house. I thanked him profusely once more, and shut the door behind me before making my way the the stairs to wave him goodbye.

He drove off, and I began the trek to my real apartment, petrification filling my veins like cold venom. I wanted nothing more than to freeze on the spot, but my legs forcefully carried my body further.

I entered the dim room, all curtains drawn and an eerie, exposed bulb lit over the sink as the sole source of light in the apartment.  Every fiber of my being told me to turn and run, every hair on end.

Samuel sat, belt in hand, bottles strewn at his feet, though he was sober.

That's what scared me the most.

When he drank, at least I knew his blows would be sloppy, weakened by the booze, and with less energy than he could manage.

When he was sober, he was serious about causing me pain. It's been months since he's come to.

I waited on baited breath before the yelling began, yet it never came. Only a calm advance, a twist of his hand on my neck, and the slicing of the knife as he ripped my shirt into pieces, not caring as he sliced the underlying skin too. A growl erupted from him, growing with his rage as he tore my clothes off, me fighting him all the way.

I was no match.

The devil pinned me, naked, to the wall, blood dripping out of me, my wounded stomach bleeding. I felt the deepest gash in my shoulder, and thanked the heavens I didn't have to work for several days, as I didn't know when I'd next see the light of day.

If I survived.

I wept and flailed, screamed myself hoarse as he had his way with me, every thrust agony in my core. I fought with all the strength I had, vomiting in disgust as he tore through me. He ripped himself out just before he was satisfied, and white, hot liquid shot down my arm where he pulled out. He slapped me repeatedly, and I saw stars, before he grabbed the studded belt.

I fought to stay awake, though I wanted so badly to die. I wished for nothing but darkness, the only shred of purity I had left vanquished.

I was worthless.

I deserved this pain.

I screamed harder with every hit, I let all the pain out until I could scream no longer. I begged. I cried.

It felt like hours before the darkness came.

Samuel, fully alert, full torture, exerted everything in trying to kill me. Or rather, bringing me to the brink of death but letting me suffer.

As the darkness enveloped me, I felt the hits to my limp body, but lost any chance of fighting them off.

I was finished, and I prayed for death to come. I couldn't bear to live.

The last thing I remember was his boot coming towards my face, before I blacked out.