Page 53 of Frat Row
He whacks me across my back, and the warm spray of blood steadily drips down my back. I yell out from the unimaginable pain, kicking my legs back and forth, trying to sit down, but my hands and my head are held tightly in place. My hands tingle as they go numb from trying to squeeze them through the holes. I have no choice but to keep myself upright.
Again, he hits me across the back in the opposite direction than before, and I feel the blood spray and drip down my back. I am screaming now without holding anything back, animalistic sounds coming from my mouth that I have never heard before. Tears freely flow down my face, wishing for it to stop.
“Mmmm, I am the artist, and you’re my muse; your blood will coat the floor of this room when I am done,” he yells, more to himself than to me.
Then, he whips both of my thighs, and the horse hairs wrap themselves around them, the barbs sinking into my skin.
Finally, the pain is too much, and the darkness overtakes me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Gradually, I open my eyes to bright lights shining over me, and my hands and ankles are bound on a table.
My eyes spring open. I am in a hospital room.
Did someone save me? Am I out of the house of horrors? Did I dream up the entire thing? Tears begin forming in my eyes.
That hope is abruptly snuffed out as the doctor who checked me in days ago walks in the door. I gasp.
I look down at my body. I am naked with just a white sheet over me. I see the wires connected to some type of machine that is checking my heart rate and other vitals, I am assuming with the multiple wires.
Then, I notice the IV.
Fuck, what is happening?
The doctor ends the silence and the crazy possible scenarios that are running through my mind.
“You lost quite a bit of blood from the flogging, so we had to conduct a blood transfusion.”
“How long have I been here?” I croak out, my throat dry.
“About twelve hours. Don’t worry, you won’t miss today’s training.” He grins savagely.
I can barely move my head; it hurts everywhere.
“I have bandaged up the cuts along your backside and put some antibiotic ointment on them to reduce the risk of infection, and I also have given you liquids through the IV,” he continues.
“About another hour of liquids, and you can join the rest of the women for day four of your training,” he says happily like I’m on my way to Disney fucking World.
I lay there motionless, not knowing what to do or say. He checks the monitors, squeezes the IV bag, and then leaves without another word.
I have to try to get out of here. I look at the cuffs and try to reach them with my mouth, but they are secured tightly with buckles.
Heaving myself painfully over to my right hand, I use my teeth to bite at the cuff, pulling it as hard as I can, even with the searing pain on my back. My teeth tingle as they cling to it.
To my utter surprise, it loosens.
My heartbeat starts beating erratically. The machine begins beeping frantically, and I stop what I am doing, but no one comes running in. Holy shit.
I quickly begin biting at it again, and it loosens enough so that I can slip my hand out.
I roll over and get to work on freeing my other wrist, working my fingers through the buckle, perspiration forming on my head and my hands.
It loosens, and I slide my hand out. I sit up and groan in pain, rubbing my wrists.
I get to work on my left ankle and free it, then my right ankle, and the cuffs fall to the floor.
Gritting my teeth, I rip the IV out, and blood starts trickling down my arm. I run to the sink and drawers, throwing open the cabinets to find the medical tape. I tape up my arm at lightning speed, understanding my time is limited.
