Page 5 of Dragon Strife
I open my mouth to scream again when the door opens at the top of the wooden stairs, the squeak of the hinges breaking up the dense silence and casting a dull, yellow glow into the dark space.
“Who’s there?” I call out, curling my fingers carefully into my palms, mindful of the twine cutting through my skin like butter.
I don’t get an answer as a pair of boots hit each wooden step with an ominous thud after thud. A dark feeling comes over me, almost as if I’m in the presence of evil and its deviant energy is wrapping around me like a coarse blanket, scraping my skin raw. A whimper escapes me involuntarily, the sound echoing throughout the room and answered by a single dark chuckle.
The hairs along my arms rise as a shiver skates down my spine, and when his boots hit the concrete floor, the dull sound drags a tear from my eye, leaving a wet trail along my cheek. My lips begin to tremble and I bite my teeth down into the tender flesh of my bottom lip in an effort to stop the movement for fear I may cry out. He likes it when I do that. I try to curl my body into a tight ball, dragging my feet up against my buttocks and clasping my hands together, pressing them to my chest.
He drags his feet along the concrete surface of the floor, the scraping noise like nails on a chalkboard. The sounds make my teeth clench in terror. Being naked in a place I’ve never been, in the clutches of a rival club, offers me no solace for my terror. If they didn’t kill me right away, it would mean I’m here for a purpose, and it becomes hard to swallow down the thick saliva in my mouth when that purpose could only mean one thing if I’m sitting here naked.
The boots stop in front of me, their outline visible in the dark shadows of the room. My eyes trail upward, trying desperately to pinpoint any features, but he’s nearly indistinguishable as the shadows dance around his form. I squint my eyes while staring at his face, but it’s no use, most of it is covered with a bandana, that creepy skeleton mouth stark white against the black. I know that sight will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.
However long the rest of my life will be.
He grabs me by the hair, the sharp pain sinking through my scalp and echoing along my jaw then through my shoulders. He yanks me to my feet, the twine ripping into my skin as blood rolls down over my ankles, before undoing the short chain, unlinking me from the wall. I struggle but it only makes the thin rope on my wrists and ankles dig deeper, and I swear that rough rope is now rubbing against bone. Everything I’ve been taught by Chino about self-defense flies out the window, not that we’ve ever practiced scenarios where I was bound.
I’m dragged a few feet as I fight against the hold and am thrown against a table, my hips hitting the sharp metal edge and making me cry out as I fall forward, my chest hitting the cold metal. Is this a gurney?
“Don’t do this,” I beg, my throat working through the thirst. “Please.”
I can feel the blood dripping from my binds as I try to struggle to stand back up, but his large hand hits me between my shoulder blades with force, knocking the breath from my lungs and propelling my chest back down to the cold metal. Then I hear it, the distinct release of a zipper. My breath gets caught in my throat as it suddenly dawns on me what my purpose for being alive and here actually is.
I sit straight up in bed, my mouth wide open and my throat clenched as a scream pierces through the silence. I slap a hand over my mouth as my chest heaves and tears soak my cheeks. It’s the same nightmare recurring every few nights.
As soon as my heartbeat slows, I drop my hand, letting it skim over the side of the bed. I know I’ll find it cold, as I do most nights when he stays here with me and I have these night terrors. I listen intently, trying to hear the cabinets in the kitchen opening and shutting, but the house sounds silent.
I pull the covers back and slip my legs over the edge of the bed and listen again. He told me he knows when a nightmare is approaching. My whimpers wake him up, but he refuses to rouse me because he says I need to face it each time until I’ve stopped fearing my memories, and instead harden them into armor.
I think he has experience in that field, he just hasn’t opened up to me about it yet.
I stand, letting the cold chill from the hardwood flooring seep into the soles of my feet, cooling my heated skin. I grab my hair tie off the side table and quickly throw up my hair into a messy bun as his shirt I wore to bed drops to mid-thigh. I grab a pair of leggings and a sweater, slipping them on before I leave the room, just in case Ajani is home and because the Arizona nights can get a bit chilly.
The kitchen is dark, and when I take in a deep inhale, there’s no hints of cocoa or sugar, meaning he left me here alone, knowing I could have a nightmare and knowing how vulnerable I would be as I slept in my bed. Anger courses through me as I stride across the floor toward the kitchen counter, but I stop short when I find a note sitting in the center of the marble slab.
I grab it and walk over to the stove, using the dim light on the exhaust fan to read what he’s written to me.
Slayer,
Let’s play a game of hide and seek,
I’m waiting for you in the woods out back, don’t be meek.
Go get dressed and come out for a peek,
Your reward? I’ll make your pussy leak.
Yours always,
Slayer Trainer and Pussy-Lover Extraordinaire
After putting on my boots, I pull the hood of my sweater up over my head as I try to shake the last remnants of the nightmare from my mind. The heavy breathing, the pain, and the ultimate despair of thinking I would never be saved.
From now on, I will only ever count on myself to save me.
That’s why I soak up these lessons like a cactus after a brisk rain in the desert. I want to learn how to be unstoppable and how to never find myself at the mercy of another again. Strength means nothing without cunning and self-awareness.
Diego’s backyard is large and for the most part clear of foliage, but there, just beyond the property line is a thick forest, the tall desert willows and cypress creating a labyrinth blanketed in dense shadows by which the moonlight cannot penetrate.
I exhale a shaky breath as I begin to trek toward the ominous woods, I won’t let myself succumb to the terror that’s growing inside of me, I will face this task and defeat it. So I gather the fear and let it roll over me, using it to heighten my senses. My eyes sharpen as I run them along the tree line, looking for clothing or any movement. My ears focus as I try to listen past the crickets and their cacophony of chirping distractions.
