Page 4 of Servitude to Serpents

Praying.

The man doesn’t speak. His eyes on me feel visceral, dangerous.

“I can’t come in.”

I open my mouth to speak before casting a look behind me. Relief fills me just as quickly as it empties with an audible sigh as another man sticks his head around the propped open door. “Hey! Can you-“ I call down, my stomach plummeting as a purse,mypurse, is tossed into the alley, the man disappearing behind the door before it swings shut.

“Wait!” I spin, the action buckling my knees, sending them crashing onto the wet pavement as the world tilts.

Hands on my back make me flinch before a timid, gaunt face peeks around my curtain of hair. “Let me help you.”

I only halfway fight against her as she grunts and struggles to help me stand.

Adrenaline dumps in my veins, fighting against the fuzziness in my brain. Something tells me I’m in danger long before my body can catch up. A colossal hand completely covers my mouth, silencing my building scream, leaving it trapped inside me. The gaunt little girl fumbles something out of her pocket as the man cages me against his chest. Tears burst free from my eyes as I struggle, something sharp plunging into my thigh as the girl bolts upright, stumbling away with a needle in her hand. If I was panicked before, I’ve got no idea what to call what comes next.

My teeth fight for purchase on his palm, my nails digging into the thick sleeves of his coat. Bizarre, guttural sounds leaving my throat, but it’s all uncoordinated. My grip is weak until I’m bent over his chest as he bows backward into the car. Little by little, my body stops responding to me, my voice faltering as I’m shoved uncoordinatedly over him and inside. Curses and arguing are muffed by the whooshing of my pulse in my ears. When the other doors join in the slam of mine, my body has gone limp, that ripe, scathing panic a footnote to the haze. The car plummets into darkness as it jerks from the alleyway.

Chapter three

To own is to… Tyrannize

Ijolt awake, gasping for air as icy water is hurled at me. I’m in the ocean, each breath a struggle for air, but only water comes. My hands jerk, tied somewhere above me, but still, they struggle, reaching out for Renee. The water fills my nose, my lungs and eyes, but still, I strain for the sound of her gargled screams. My head is wrenched up, and if I could scream with her, I would. I’m forced to sit, both my shoulders flaring in pain as they’re bent and pulled behind me at unnatural angles, still secure in my restraints.

“Breathe, stupid bitch.” The command is barked in my ear, like I wasn’t already trying to do that.

My lungs strain and burn as I cough up water, my chest heaving. When I force my eyes open, I’m met with glaring fluorescent lights. I wrench them closed. The hand on the back of my neck feels like they’re trying to dig their fingers down to my bone. A door is thrown open with the telltale bounce of a handleknocking against a wall. With it brings a rush of cold air that assaults my already violently shaking form, and when my skin prickles, my nipples hardening, I’m acutely aware I’m naked.

Everywhere.

I wrench my legs closed, a new,deeperkind of fear taking root in the pit of my stomach.

God. Oh, God.

The next time I open my eyes, I force them to stay that way, my breath leaving me in ragged, wet pants. Coughs jostle me as the grip on the back of my neck disappears, letting me crash back down to the cold, unyielding floor. There’s no clunk of wood or give of carpet. Two men stare down at me, a third joining them from behind. He frowns deeply, his upside-down face looking like a garish, demented smile. A scream leaves my throat as he bends, taking my chin in a nasty hold. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for…whatever.

“Open them!”

God, I do.

He curses. “Fuck, you blind or something? The fuck is wrong with your eye?”

I pant, his stale, hot breath dragging in and out of my nose rapidly.

“Can you see?” He booms.

I nod, a million words, questions, and pleas forming on my tongue, but they stay frozen there. My whole body vibrates with fear as the taller man steps closer, bending to study my eye. “It’s called polycoria, I think. We can give her colored contacts or something if he doesn’t like it.

“Maybe we can upcharge?”

The man just grunts, nodding to himself. “She’s pretty.”

That’s enough to break the barrier that held my words back. “Please don’t do this.” I’m not even sure whatthisis, only that I viscerally do not want it.

The wiry man holding my face makes a disgusted look, slamming me back down to the floor. My back screams out in pain, all the air in my lungs knocked out, leaving me gasping again through burning lungs. “You do not speak unless you are addressed.”

I cry harder. “Please.” My head snaps back when a splash of freezing water hits my chest, growing the puddle already formed under me. The other man, a pudgy, poorly dressed one, aims the hose just beside my face, its icy tendrils pricking my skin, and again, all my fear takes a quiet backseat. Again, water wins, taking everything from me, but this time, in the form of my fight. I shake my head rapidly, but it doesn’t stop him.

This time, I’m ready, but only barely. The spray hits my face at full blast as I hold my breath, my lungs burning. My head wrenched in the opposite direction does little to nothing, and eventually…I breathe. This dry submersion is shorter but no less terrible. Its effect is immediate, my silence automatic. I’m gasping violently as the pudgy man points toward a large mirror. Rapidly blinking, I try to take stock of where I am, make sense where there is none to be had. There’s no bed, just a small toilet that looks to be free of any actual hookups, no sink. I can feel the grating metal of a drain below my back, the cold water pooling around frozen skin in the windowless room.

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