Little Lady
Capítulo tres
My eyelids were the as heavy as rocks but I managed to open them, unsure of how long I'd been passed out for.
"Oh good, you're awake" his chilling voice ruined the disorientated moment where I'd convinced myself I was safe. Damn my subconscious!
He threw a cigarette at me along with a lighter and I stared at the place where they landed. "Smoke up" he said and I wanted to laugh, why was he acting like nothing had happened, like he'd done nothing wrong? I looked at him blankly as he took a drag out of his own cigarette. I shrugged and took the cigarette, lighting it, revelling in the wonderful toxicity of the fumes.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask, so many things I wanted to say, and he was sat in a chair in the corner of the room, that was my chance. But I didn't know him, I didn't know how he'd react or how short his temper was. I closed my eyes, wanting my surroundings to disappear from my vision, but I could hear him breathing and I knew this was more real than ever.
"What do you want with me?" I asked bravely, still with my eyes closed, not wanting to see his reaction.
"None of your business" he replied nonchalantly, taking another drag of his cigarette.
I opened my eyes abruptly, anger bubbling from my toes all the way up my body and stopping at my mouth as I snapped "Seriously? There's no reason for me to be here, you pay a twenty, you get sex and you leave, that's the procedure, that's how it goes. Why was that not enough?" I looked him dead in the eye for as long as I could but tore my gaze away, I wasn't brave—he still intimidated me beyond belief.
He rose to his feet, docking out his cigarette by throwing it on the floor and stepping on it. I got the feeling he was leaving and in a way I dreaded being left alone but I also just wanted answers and my anger drove my words.
"Do I not even get an answer?" I scoffed outraged.
"You're pushing your luck" he mumbled heading for the door.
"I want fucking answers!" I yelled.
"Shut the fuck up!" He screamed and charged over to me, crouching in front of me he grabbed my neck and looked me in the eyes as he said "Listen to me. The more questions you ask, the less chance you have of survival, so here's a tip, shut your damn mouth" his voice was cold in that way where you're so angry you whisper, his saliva hit my face and I shuddered, the air in my lungs stalling for a second, unable to be released because of the tightness of his grip, I cowered away from his grasp but he only gripped tighter. He finally released me and the air automatically rushed from my body in a huge exhale mixed with a sigh of relief.
"I'll do the talking, don't speak unless you're spoken to" he muttered rising into a standing position.
"I have no reason to be here, I was just doing my job, you're not supposed to fucking kidnap me" the bitter sound of skin against skin sounded as he punched me right in my eye, the impact from the blow sent my head back and it smashed against the wall and I wondered how many more fucking times I could hit my head without just dying.
"You call that a job? That's not a job, it's just a way for you to make money from something you can't get enough of." he spat and I reached up and put a hand protectively over my eye, whimpering as quietly as possible. He went on "And do you not understand what I'm telling you? Do I have to spell it out for you? Don't open your mouth again otherwise I swear to god you won't live to see another day" he towered over me dominantly, like someone who has to look tough to feel tough and I snapped my jaw shut, knowing my boundaries. Still a part of me wanted to challenge him, I couldn't put my finger on why that was but a small part of me wanted to really get his temper going and that part of me scared me as it could end up getting all of me killed.
Why can't you just tell me why
"Right, that's it" he growled and I realized I'd spoken aloud. I slapped my hand over my mouth but it was too late. He rapidly removed his belt from his jeans and in one swift movement slapped it round my face, the bite of the leather stung and tears pricked in my eyes, I bit on my tongue to stop myself howling in pain. "You asked for this" he growled again, this time slapping the belt harshly against my legs, I whimpered and curled my legs up doing my best to protect them but I was weak from exhaustion and so damn hungry. The leather cut into my skin a couple more times and then he discarded it onto the floor, wiping the sweat from his forehead he exited the room, leaving me alone and bleeding.
Water dripped on my face and then something damp was pressed against my forehead. I knew my eye was swollen before I even attempted to open it, it hurt so bad. My good eye fluttered open and I gasped loudly, sitting up. Where am I? I was no longer in the room I've been trapped in for...how long now? My movements were too quick and my head began to spin. Someone was leaning over me but had jumped back when I gasped and shot up. It was a man. I grabbed both sides of my dress and pulled them round me more, feeling vulnerable. His face was twisted into a deep frown.
"W-who are you?" I stuttered "Who are you?" I said more confidently. No reply.
He gently pushed on my shoulder making me lay back down. I wanted to cry, scared of what he'd do.
A damp cloth was pressed against my forehead once again and he moved round so he was knelt next to my right arm, leaning over me, his shoulder length hair dangled in my face as he canted his head to the side and looked at me for a few seconds. Then he grabbed the cloth from the bowl of warm water—that I hadn't even noticed before—rung it out and wiped slowly at the slice on my face from the belt. I winced slightly because well, it fucking hurt, but I was grateful. His deep brown eyes avoided contact with mine the whole time quickly dancing away from my gaze every time I looked into them. He gently cleaned all of the aftermath in my flesh from the belt, working thoroughly and never making a sound. I felt uncomfortable as he cleaned my leg wounds and I held my dress as tight around me as I could, he looked at my hands gripping to the leather pathetic excuse for a dress and dropped the cloth on the floor, exiting the room quickly. I wondered where he was going, I didn't want to be alone.
I looked at my surroundings, I thought that I was in a bathroom because a bath was in the corner, grimy and dirty, but there was no sink or toilet so I couldn't be certain. The walls were yellow, but not from paint, from mould and nicotine. All of a sudden the guy came back, holding something in his hand, he knelt beside me again and put the material in my hand before helping me carefully sit up. Once he'd done that he stood and turned around. It took me a few moments to realize that the material in my hands was a shirt and some boxers.
"Thank you" I mumbled gratefully before sliding my dress off and putting the clothes he'd given me on. "Um...done" I told him and he turned back around, grabbing my tattered dress and discarding it into the trash can he scooped me up bridal style and carried me out of the room.
I was almost one hundred percent sure I was still in the same house. We exited the—sort of—bathroom into a corridor. Oddly enough it was nicely painted and paintings of beaches and the sea accented the white walls. A few lights flooded the corridor and it made the house seem less disgusting and deserted.
"Am I safe?" I whispered, not sure if anyone else was around and may be able to hear me. He looked in my eyes, brown to blue and frowned before breaking his gaze and looking straight ahead again. Why won't he talk? I decided since I couldn't revel in the art of conversation I'd study his features. His skin was tan, Italian looking or maybe Spanish or Mexican, I wasn't sure. His eyes were a unique shade of dark brown, and they spoke volumes—all I saw in them was sadness, but maybe what I saw was just a reflection of myself. His eyebrows were thick and darker than his hair—which was a chocolate slash light brown and heavily flat ironed—the way they met in the middle every now again made me intrigued, what was he thinking so deeply about that kept making him frown?
We reached a kitchen, it was bright and I used his shoulder to shield my eyes from it. He gently plopped me on my feet and I swayed back and forth as if I was intoxicated, he held his hands just centimetres away from my body in case I fell and he motioned to a chair at the table in the middle of the room, helping me get there. I sat down and put my head in my hands. My head wasn't pounding from hitting it so much anymore but confusion was straining my brain and it ached a little—too much thinking.
A few minutes passed and the silence was a thick, dense fog all around us. I wanted to say something, anything but I didn't know what. He put a glass of water in front of me, some chocolate and a plate of pasta in tomato and basil sauce and before I could stop myself I began to cry.
He frowned slightly and his eyes went wide as he took a seat beside me, I wiped at my eyes quickly feeling embarrassed "Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I just- this is really nice of you, thank you" I was so starving and energy-less and my mouth watered at the thought of eating it, I couldn't wait to dig in. He shrugged in response and I took it as a you're welcome.
"How long have I been here?" I asked curiously with a mouthful of pasta, usually I have more manners but I was just so hungry. He didn't reply once again, he just sipped his own glass of water. "A day?" I questioned and he shook his head without looking at me "Two days?" He shook his head again "Three days?" He looked up at me, his lips slightly parted and his two front teeth visible and hesitated, then he looked down at the table and nodded. Three days? Wow...
"You know the guy who did this to me" I confirmed—by his guilty expression I assumed he knew him pretty well and he seemed ashamed of it. "You related to him?" Maybe I was being nosy but I didn't care. He didn't reply so I assumed the conversation was over.
"Vic!" A gruff voice yelled and the silent guys eyes went wide as he stood quickly and backed into a corner. I looked at him, wondering what was going on, waiting for him to explain—of course he never did. Even if he had the intention to, he never got the chance to "What the fuck are you doing?" I immediately dropped my fork onto my plate due to fear, he was stood in the doorway—my kidnapper, his almost black eyes glaring with hatred at the silent guy in the corner.
My breath caught in my throat—oh no, what is going to happen?
"Oh good, you're awake" his chilling voice ruined the disorientated moment where I'd convinced myself I was safe. Damn my subconscious!
He threw a cigarette at me along with a lighter and I stared at the place where they landed. "Smoke up" he said and I wanted to laugh, why was he acting like nothing had happened, like he'd done nothing wrong? I looked at him blankly as he took a drag out of his own cigarette. I shrugged and took the cigarette, lighting it, revelling in the wonderful toxicity of the fumes.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask, so many things I wanted to say, and he was sat in a chair in the corner of the room, that was my chance. But I didn't know him, I didn't know how he'd react or how short his temper was. I closed my eyes, wanting my surroundings to disappear from my vision, but I could hear him breathing and I knew this was more real than ever.
"What do you want with me?" I asked bravely, still with my eyes closed, not wanting to see his reaction.
"None of your business" he replied nonchalantly, taking another drag of his cigarette.
I opened my eyes abruptly, anger bubbling from my toes all the way up my body and stopping at my mouth as I snapped "Seriously? There's no reason for me to be here, you pay a twenty, you get sex and you leave, that's the procedure, that's how it goes. Why was that not enough?" I looked him dead in the eye for as long as I could but tore my gaze away, I wasn't brave—he still intimidated me beyond belief.
He rose to his feet, docking out his cigarette by throwing it on the floor and stepping on it. I got the feeling he was leaving and in a way I dreaded being left alone but I also just wanted answers and my anger drove my words.
"Do I not even get an answer?" I scoffed outraged.
"You're pushing your luck" he mumbled heading for the door.
"I want fucking answers!" I yelled.
"Shut the fuck up!" He screamed and charged over to me, crouching in front of me he grabbed my neck and looked me in the eyes as he said "Listen to me. The more questions you ask, the less chance you have of survival, so here's a tip, shut your damn mouth" his voice was cold in that way where you're so angry you whisper, his saliva hit my face and I shuddered, the air in my lungs stalling for a second, unable to be released because of the tightness of his grip, I cowered away from his grasp but he only gripped tighter. He finally released me and the air automatically rushed from my body in a huge exhale mixed with a sigh of relief.
"I'll do the talking, don't speak unless you're spoken to" he muttered rising into a standing position.
"I have no reason to be here, I was just doing my job, you're not supposed to fucking kidnap me" the bitter sound of skin against skin sounded as he punched me right in my eye, the impact from the blow sent my head back and it smashed against the wall and I wondered how many more fucking times I could hit my head without just dying.
"You call that a job? That's not a job, it's just a way for you to make money from something you can't get enough of." he spat and I reached up and put a hand protectively over my eye, whimpering as quietly as possible. He went on "And do you not understand what I'm telling you? Do I have to spell it out for you? Don't open your mouth again otherwise I swear to god you won't live to see another day" he towered over me dominantly, like someone who has to look tough to feel tough and I snapped my jaw shut, knowing my boundaries. Still a part of me wanted to challenge him, I couldn't put my finger on why that was but a small part of me wanted to really get his temper going and that part of me scared me as it could end up getting all of me killed.
Why can't you just tell me why
"Right, that's it" he growled and I realized I'd spoken aloud. I slapped my hand over my mouth but it was too late. He rapidly removed his belt from his jeans and in one swift movement slapped it round my face, the bite of the leather stung and tears pricked in my eyes, I bit on my tongue to stop myself howling in pain. "You asked for this" he growled again, this time slapping the belt harshly against my legs, I whimpered and curled my legs up doing my best to protect them but I was weak from exhaustion and so damn hungry. The leather cut into my skin a couple more times and then he discarded it onto the floor, wiping the sweat from his forehead he exited the room, leaving me alone and bleeding.
Water dripped on my face and then something damp was pressed against my forehead. I knew my eye was swollen before I even attempted to open it, it hurt so bad. My good eye fluttered open and I gasped loudly, sitting up. Where am I? I was no longer in the room I've been trapped in for...how long now? My movements were too quick and my head began to spin. Someone was leaning over me but had jumped back when I gasped and shot up. It was a man. I grabbed both sides of my dress and pulled them round me more, feeling vulnerable. His face was twisted into a deep frown.
"W-who are you?" I stuttered "Who are you?" I said more confidently. No reply.
He gently pushed on my shoulder making me lay back down. I wanted to cry, scared of what he'd do.
A damp cloth was pressed against my forehead once again and he moved round so he was knelt next to my right arm, leaning over me, his shoulder length hair dangled in my face as he canted his head to the side and looked at me for a few seconds. Then he grabbed the cloth from the bowl of warm water—that I hadn't even noticed before—rung it out and wiped slowly at the slice on my face from the belt. I winced slightly because well, it fucking hurt, but I was grateful. His deep brown eyes avoided contact with mine the whole time quickly dancing away from my gaze every time I looked into them. He gently cleaned all of the aftermath in my flesh from the belt, working thoroughly and never making a sound. I felt uncomfortable as he cleaned my leg wounds and I held my dress as tight around me as I could, he looked at my hands gripping to the leather pathetic excuse for a dress and dropped the cloth on the floor, exiting the room quickly. I wondered where he was going, I didn't want to be alone.
I looked at my surroundings, I thought that I was in a bathroom because a bath was in the corner, grimy and dirty, but there was no sink or toilet so I couldn't be certain. The walls were yellow, but not from paint, from mould and nicotine. All of a sudden the guy came back, holding something in his hand, he knelt beside me again and put the material in my hand before helping me carefully sit up. Once he'd done that he stood and turned around. It took me a few moments to realize that the material in my hands was a shirt and some boxers.
"Thank you" I mumbled gratefully before sliding my dress off and putting the clothes he'd given me on. "Um...done" I told him and he turned back around, grabbing my tattered dress and discarding it into the trash can he scooped me up bridal style and carried me out of the room.
I was almost one hundred percent sure I was still in the same house. We exited the—sort of—bathroom into a corridor. Oddly enough it was nicely painted and paintings of beaches and the sea accented the white walls. A few lights flooded the corridor and it made the house seem less disgusting and deserted.
"Am I safe?" I whispered, not sure if anyone else was around and may be able to hear me. He looked in my eyes, brown to blue and frowned before breaking his gaze and looking straight ahead again. Why won't he talk? I decided since I couldn't revel in the art of conversation I'd study his features. His skin was tan, Italian looking or maybe Spanish or Mexican, I wasn't sure. His eyes were a unique shade of dark brown, and they spoke volumes—all I saw in them was sadness, but maybe what I saw was just a reflection of myself. His eyebrows were thick and darker than his hair—which was a chocolate slash light brown and heavily flat ironed—the way they met in the middle every now again made me intrigued, what was he thinking so deeply about that kept making him frown?
We reached a kitchen, it was bright and I used his shoulder to shield my eyes from it. He gently plopped me on my feet and I swayed back and forth as if I was intoxicated, he held his hands just centimetres away from my body in case I fell and he motioned to a chair at the table in the middle of the room, helping me get there. I sat down and put my head in my hands. My head wasn't pounding from hitting it so much anymore but confusion was straining my brain and it ached a little—too much thinking.
A few minutes passed and the silence was a thick, dense fog all around us. I wanted to say something, anything but I didn't know what. He put a glass of water in front of me, some chocolate and a plate of pasta in tomato and basil sauce and before I could stop myself I began to cry.
He frowned slightly and his eyes went wide as he took a seat beside me, I wiped at my eyes quickly feeling embarrassed "Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I just- this is really nice of you, thank you" I was so starving and energy-less and my mouth watered at the thought of eating it, I couldn't wait to dig in. He shrugged in response and I took it as a you're welcome.
"How long have I been here?" I asked curiously with a mouthful of pasta, usually I have more manners but I was just so hungry. He didn't reply once again, he just sipped his own glass of water. "A day?" I questioned and he shook his head without looking at me "Two days?" He shook his head again "Three days?" He looked up at me, his lips slightly parted and his two front teeth visible and hesitated, then he looked down at the table and nodded. Three days? Wow...
"You know the guy who did this to me" I confirmed—by his guilty expression I assumed he knew him pretty well and he seemed ashamed of it. "You related to him?" Maybe I was being nosy but I didn't care. He didn't reply so I assumed the conversation was over.
"Vic!" A gruff voice yelled and the silent guys eyes went wide as he stood quickly and backed into a corner. I looked at him, wondering what was going on, waiting for him to explain—of course he never did. Even if he had the intention to, he never got the chance to "What the fuck are you doing?" I immediately dropped my fork onto my plate due to fear, he was stood in the doorway—my kidnapper, his almost black eyes glaring with hatred at the silent guy in the corner.
My breath caught in my throat—oh no, what is going to happen?
Notes
Still depressing as shit....apologies.I wrote this while at my own birthday party yesterday, ha ha
Feedback is always appreciated! Tell me what you think and what you want to see.
Gracias.
Bye.
SEQUEL !
1/17/14