Shattered

Day one in the new room wasn’t as bad as I thought. It was a nice relief to sleep on a good bed for once instead of backaches on the floor. The blue walls sent down a calming spell over my weary mind. Alan had taken off the leash, but left me in the room, closing the door behind him.

The room was sparsely furnished. A chair was tucked into the opposite corner. The mirror reflected my image from across the room. The emptiness made me feel even more alone. Only the bed cheered me up.

It was the first bed I could sleep on in seven years. Between the couch in the abandoned building and the hard floor in the old Master’s living room with the chain padlocked to the wall, it was a luxury.

But even though their “kindness” was appreciated, I had to remain strong. From this moment on, I vowed to stay silent and not talk unless spoke to. I also vowed to not eat but nibbles to stay alive. If I was too weak, maybe they would throw me back out on the streets. Besides, it would be punishment for acting out earlier this morning.

It was my only escape plan.

A window allowed for a glance to the beautiful outside. I was so close to freedom and pure joy, but so far from it all the same. I might have a window, but I wouldn’t be let out anytime soon. Glancing down, I saw the front yard of the large house. There was a garden nestled under some trees. Roses, lilies, sunflowers galore clustered together. The magnificent hues dazzled me. It was crafted to perfection.

The tug of the world beyond nearly made me break down.

This first day, I sat under the window sill, looking down among the green grass and blue sky. Damp tears trickled down my cheeks for reasons to many to count. Food was delivered to a table beside the door before the exit was bolted shut again. The plate of a sandwich and a glass of water was tempting, but easy to resist.

I grew up on the streets, where I could go up to four days without food. I was already on day three with no food. I could last a few other days and hopefully train myself to extend the time.

The silver collar was still on my neck, a constant reminder of old memories. I longed for it to be off and constantly fiddled with it. I wanted to take it off myself, not one of the men downstairs. The chains mocked me as I shook them.

When the dead of night gazed upon the room, I decided to stretch my legs from the hours of sitting under the sill. The moon watched as I explored the amenities of the room. The bedside table had a hairbrush, rubber bands for my hair, and a few other accessories. Nothing too much. The closet held a couple of plain shirts, shorts, and some nice jeans.

It wasn’t so bad after all.

My gaze wandered over to the mirror. I clicked the table lamp on and took my black shirt off, leaving me in my jeans and black sports bra. I inspected each wound. Some were healing already, just fading scars. The burns were still tender and soft. The pink skin around it dulled as the once charred black skin started to stitch itself together and become a dull grey.

I had never felt more hideous.

Throwing on shorts and my black shirt, I crawled into bed and attempted to fall asleep. It didn’t come easily.

The next morning I woke up to the tempting smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen. It had been years since I’d had a good slice of delicious bacon! Maybe I had earned an extra pay check and treated Wrecker and I to a good breakfast, but the memory alluded me. It was in the past.

Sighing, I saw that the bolt was still locked and the food still tempting. I slipped back into a pair of black skinny jeans and sat under the window sill, looking at the puffy white clouds. My stomach complained for me to eat food, but I ignored my stomach. A clock overhead ticked eight in the morning. The white carpeted floor was soft as I ran my fingers through it.

The door bolt being pushed back alerted me to a presence. I sat up suddenly, the silver chains rattling. Alan came up and poked his head in the room.

“Come on, Kynder.” The man beckoned. I stood up on shaky legs and followed him. Treading down the stairs carefully, I didn’t make a sound. The ginger led me to the kitchen.

Phil and Tino were sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking bitter coffee and drifting through the latest news on their phones. As Alan took a seat, I held back a few paces. Phil noticed me first.

“So how did you sleep?” Phil chuckled. My shoulders were tight as I awaited the punishment. I hadn’t slept a wink the last night.

“Good, sir.” I responded in a perfect lie, but the bags under my eyes betrayed me. I looked down, refusing to look into the accusing pair of brown orbs that stared me down.

I didn’t see it coming. In an instant I was on the floor, looking up to the face of Phil, a leather whip in his hand.

“Look up to me when you speak.” Phil growled. I swallowed a whimper and backed off. From the corner of my eye, I could see the living room. There were a few chairs and a couple couches facing a large TV, but it didn’t obscure the fear on the wall.

I saw the fireplace sit there, the poker looking menacing in the morning light. A shiver ran down my spine.

“I thought Miles said she was obedient!” Tino complained. Alan rolled his eyes and stared down at me. I had to force myself to stare right past him, not meeting his gaze.

“She is. All Kynder needs is a little bit of a review.” Phil chuckled, a tone of menacing violence in his voice. Alan watched on from the back of the kitchen. I slowly walked towards the hallway connecting the kitchen, living room and bedrooms. I didn’t want to be punished again!

Tino stepped forward, looking right at me, I tilted my head away a little as he hand reached up. Please, no more hitting, no more slapping and choking! I swallowed a gasp as he took one finger and tilted my chin up to meet him. I held on to his eyes for a quick moment before he dropped me.

“She’s a quick learner.” Tino replied.

The rest of the afternoon wasn’t any better. Only by lunch time did I manage to slip away for a little alone time in the living room. There was a small shelf lined with books both old and new. It was opposite facing the TV. The worn pages called my name, begging to be read and imagined upon, but I feared for a bad consequence. The cabinet was also so close to the fireplace, I was getting a little freaked out.

My stomach rumbled, but I pushed the need to the side. It could, and would, wait. Wandering through the hallways, I stopped at the front door. Little panes of glass allowed me to see to the driveway and beyond. Little glass pieces cradled in the wood spun circles of light on the wood floor. The garden was just beyond, I knew it. My right hand stretched to touch the metal knob embedded in the pine gateway…

“Kynder, what are you doing?” A voice purred to me from behind. I slowly let my hand fall to my side. Every muscle tightened as I knew I was going to go through more torture. He would slap me, whip me, and hit me. I deserved the agony. I wasn’t worth being treated right.

A hand gently caressed my cheek that was damp with fearful sweat. I resisted the terror that wracked my body. In one swift move, he could take the chain, twist it in his fingers, and finish me off.

I could almost see it happening.

“N-nothing, Sir.” I stuttered. Miles would’ve kicked me in the chest for stuttering. Alan turned me around, inches away from my face. From the reminder earlier today, I looked up to his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” He leaned in, a sweet breath chilling my bones. Tender lips grazed my forehead, but never quite connected. As he walked away, I slowly headed for the stairs.

Tomorrow, I would find my way outside. I needed it, or these boys might drive me insane! A burst of rebellion pushed its way into my head and claimed my thoughts. If I could show them I could be outside and not run away, I might be able to relax out in the sun!

Yes, tomorrow would be better!

Notes