she's worse

13

It had been a week since I got off my period.

It had been a week since the pain started.

It had been a week since I had said a word to anyone.

It had been a week since a sound came from my throat through the time of my torture.

It had been a week since Sorin came down to see me once, and I never saw him after that.

It had been a week since I had gotten substantial sleep.

"You ready?" the guard asked me, and I didn't respond. I felt the palm of his hand against my now stinging cheek. "Answer me." I gave him a slight nod.  "Good girl," he said.

He turned around and picked up a knife. We had done knives before, he wouldn't be getting much of a reaction from me.

"I was thinking, maybe you need something more intense. None of this seems to hurt you, so..." He trailed off as he lifted the knife up straight in front of his face, examining it. Showing me the sharp edge of the blade. Showing me what he was going to use to damage me, physically. I think he knows by now the emotional damage in me is permanent.

He pressed the flat side to my collarbone and I stiffened.

Hot.

He turned the blade 90° so the sharp end was digging into my skin right below my collar bone.

He didn't need to know that the cell was so cold, the heat felt like a holy grail.

He slid the knife down, letting the blood drip down. The warm thick scarlet liquid trailing down my chest was the only warmth I had felt in a week. I wanted more.

"This doesn't seem to be working for you. Let's try something else," he said. His hand cupped my face, his fingers pushing into my cheekbones as my chin rested on his palm. He roughly turned my face to force eye contact. "Maybe just a few punches will leave you sore for a few days," He said to no one.

Technically, he was talking to me, but I had been a brick wall for a week. I didn't respond, even though I listened. He was talking to no one.

His hand left my face, coming down to my throat, constricting my airway, as I struggled to breathe properly.

I could breathe, but it was rough and harsh. I tried slowly down my breaths, trying to maintain a calm composure. The more I get aggravated, the tighter his hold would get.

I loved being right, and as usual, I was.

He let go of me and pushed me onto the cot. His fist landed between my chest and stomach, right in my diaphragm. My body jerked forward in pain as my breathing went absolutely wild.

Tears rimmed my eyes, but they knew better than to fall. No part of Selene would ever fall for men. Tears or heart, I wouldn't fall. I stood still and taller than them all.

He stood me up and I felt a blow to my upper back, and then my jaw, and my nose.

He was basically trying to disable any movement from me for a few days.

I was barely being fed. I had nothing in me to fight him back. I wouldn't fight him back because he couldn't kill me.

"That should be good enough for a few days." He turned around and left my bloodied, bruised, and barely breathing body on the disgusting, cold floor.

Move. I tell myself.

MOVE! GET YOUR ASS UP!

I slowly push myself up off the floor, I almost let out a sob before I choked on it, trying to be quiet in pain, as I sit up.