Page 17 of All Your Hate

It adds a refreshing chill to my still naked body, bringing my nerves to life. I’m sure in the daylight my bruises stand out even more. I can’t bring myself to look down at myself. My body brings me nothing but shame now.

Spotting a white button-up shirt that’s been tossed onto a large chair in the corner, I decide to put it on. It’s better than nothing.

As soon as I slip into it I’m hit by a familiar smell.Spice.Heat.

I'm not sure where I recognize it from, but it makes my heart ache for something I wasn’t aware I was missing.

Part of me wants to rip the shirt off and toss it aside along with whatever odd feelings it’s stirring in me, but I want to be naked even less. It’s oddly comforting to have a scrap of clothing again. I could find more to wear, but I’m nervous enough with just this on. I’ve not been given permission to wear it after all.

I don’t know how much longer I have alone or if I’m being watched. Searching the room, I don't find much to help me figure anything out. There's makeup and jewelry on the dresser and expensive clothes in the walk-in closet. The only thing I find that I could maybe make use of is some rope in a drawer. There’s a lot of it. Bundles of black, and red. All neatly tied off and lined up.

Clutching one of them to my chest, I head for the door.Locked.Of course it is. Why did I expect any different?

Lucky for me this room has an actual bathroom attached to it. I’d been using a bucket in my old cell so I may as well make use of the facilities here in case I’m thrown back into the dark ages.

When I step into the room my feet are warmed by the heated tiles and it takes away some of the ache from the constant cold exposure.

Just like the bedroom, everything in here is sparkling black and silver. The shower is all open space with a huge square rainfall shower built into the ceiling. It looks big enough for two or three people to comfortably stand underneath.

On the other side of the room is an actual clawfoot tub. I’ve only ever seen them in movies.

Everything smells clean and fresh, there’s not a hint of dust or mildew anywhere. It’s all so enticing and I can’t help but feel in awe. I’ve fallen into the lap of luxury. Maybe I could actually get used to this place. It’s better than a dank cellar with a makeshift prison built inside.

This feels like I actually have a chance of getting out one day. I don’t feel like I’m destined to die in the dark.

How depressing is that? My life is so bad that being put in a fancy room by my captor makes me feel hopeful.

My body aches for a hot bath or a shower, but getting caught like that is the last thing I need. I should figure out who has me first. Find out what makes him tick and what he wants.

I never got much of a chance of that with the other guy, what with being drugged anytime he wanted me. When I first woke up there, he came down toinspectme along with a doctor. They never spoke to me, just at me. I was treated like an unruly dog. Manhandled and pinned down or drugged when I wouldn’t cooperate.

As I make use of the bathroom I can feel the evidence of what was done to me between my legs.

Grabbing a washcloth, I lather it in soap before running it under hot water. It scalds my skin, but the pain feels good like I’m burning everything away.

Once I’m as clean as can be, I’m not sure what to do with myself so I pace the room, one eye on the door the entire time. I don’t think I can handle another beating when it opens.

I’m so tired and my stomach hurts from not eating in so long.

By nightfall, I’m still left alone. The anxiety of why I’m here is starting to gnaw away at my resolve.

I still have the rope I found earlier and I keep it held tightly in my hands in case I get the chance to strangle my captor with it.

Eventually, my legs ache so much that I have to rest. I can’t bring myself to lie in a stranger's bed. Being found in it would be an open invitation for them to do what they want.

The closet feels more like home anyway. Like my little prison that kept me safe until it was time for the monsters to come for me again.

I try so hard to stay awake, but I’m so exhausted that I can’t keep my head up and I end up passing out in the corner.

There’s a change in the air when I wake up. I’m no longer in the closet, I’m back in the soft bed I found myself in earlier. But I’m no longer alone.

I’ve grown so used to my own company that when there’s someone else in the room I just know.

Peeking one eye open I see the curtains are closed and there’s a lamp on somewhere in the room so I’m not in the dark.

I feel around on the sheets for the rope, but can’t find it.

“Why sleep on the floor when there’s a perfectly good bed?” A smooth-as-silk voice speaks from across the room and my whole body goes rigid. “Maybe I should have tied you up so you couldn’t get out of it? Seems like that’s what you wanted since you were cuddling up to my rope so nicely.”

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