Page 29 of Straightjacket

Blood streams down his face and he stumbles backwards, cupping his nose. He groans from the pain but all I can hear is Dolly behind me, clapping her hands in glee.

“That’s the spot right there!” She yells in delight and I grin through the pain, tasting the rich blood as it seeps between my teeth then I’m swarmed by the guards, their hands gripping at me, yanking me down to the floor. The porcelain tiles crack into the side of my face, sending another shockwave of pain to rattle my bones. Blood, like the colour of my favourite red wine trails out of my nose, dripping steadily off my lips until it lands on the tiles.

I don’t even fight as my wrists are held tightly into place behind my back. I don’t fight when I’m hauled from the floor, or when I’m dragged back to the cell and thrown onto the cold, damp ground.

I don’t fight because there’s nothing left inside of me to fight with.

“No... no, please. I don’t wanna do this anymore.” I groan out, my own words sounding so far away that they don’t even feel real anymore. The room around me feels like it’s spinning a million miles an hour, the whites of the walls warping into something foreign.

I try to lift my head or at least attempt to move my body, but it feels as though there’s a dead weight on my back, forcing me downwards. Tingles prickle to life at the tips of my fingers whenever I wiggle them but everything else refuses to move.

Where the fuck am I?

What’s happening to me?

There’s a sour taste in my mouth, like when you swallow dry pills. I can feel the powdery texture settling on my tongue, but when did I take them?

At the touch of someone else's hand on the back of my leg, I jump.

“Who... whose there?” I mumble, turning my head to the side in an attempt to see the rest of the room but whoever is in here with me is nowhere to be seen. There’s just no possible way for me to turn over.

I’m stuck like this, face down– vulnerable.

“I can see the drugs are working well.” The deep voice rings out from behind me, the words warping as the drugs in my system take full control over me. “You’re all mine now, Silas. Mine to bend, to break, to ruin. That’s until somebody else wants a turn.”

Shoving my face into what feels like a leather mattress, I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my mind to take me somewhere else but I’m not worthy of such a place, my own mind denying me the peace that I crave.

“Do... don’t touch me, please... p...please.” I beg like a child, hot tears brewing behind my eyelids but it’s not enough, it’ll never be enough. “I’m... just a kid, man. Please... I can’t take it anymore.” My throat burns from my pleas but what hurts me more, more than what I did to protect my little sister is the feel of this man's hand rubbing up the backs of my bare thighs, his nails scraping against my skin until I can feel the weight of him behind me, his body pushing into mine.

“But you can,” he retorts. “And you will take more. You’ll take everything that I give you until I decide when we’re done.”

Fisting my hands, I dig my nails into the bed, clawing at it until I can feel the fabric split apart. “No, don’t! No... I... can’t!” I cry out, pushing my damaged vocal cords to their absolute limit but it only seems to make the man behind me more eager, the grip of his hands growing tighter on my ass. He spreads me apart, forcing a choked sob out of me, until I feel him there.

“Let’s go for round three, shall we? I’m hoping to make you bleed this time.” He grunts out, then he shoves his way inside of me again, creating a guttural cry to burst through my gritted teeth. My fingers crack, and my knuckles turn white as I grapple against the bed, clawing through the pain until my nails snap.

“Pl... please.” Thrust. “Just.” Thrust. “Stop.”

Burning tears stream down my face as he hammers into me, the scorching pain searing through my veins and it starts to feel like it’s never going to end, like I’ll feel this pain forever. It’s burnt into the very marrow of my bones, and I’ve never wanted to die, more than I have right now. I’m desperate for the claws of hell to drag me down, swallow me fucking whole until I’m nothing but ash.

The harder this man rams into me, the more I’m led to believe that this is only what I deserve, to feel this torture for the rest of my life.

I couldn’t save my little sister, and now this is the reality I have to live with, a death sentence for my sins.

Releasing my hands from the bed, I fall headfirst into that pit of darkness, a silent purgatory waiting for me at the bottom and all I can do is wait for this torture to be over. To allow my body to swallow my mind until I can’t feel anything.

“F...fuck, I’m coming!”

And I wish I was dead. I wish for it more than anything.

Once he’s done with me, he leaves me bruised and battered on the bed, the jingling of his belt echoing around in my head as he tucks himself away.

I pry my eyes open slightly, the words on my tongue are dry and sharp. “Who... are you?”

Thick glasses frame his dead eyes with floppy brown hair covering his forehead– it’s a face that I’ll never forget.

“James,” he says with a smirk on his face. “James Whittaker, and you’ll do well to remember that.”

Oh, I will remember that.