All She Had Left
The dimly lit room smelt like stale urine with a touch of claustrophobia. Days in this place were not counted and food was squished through a small slit in the door. Emma was curled up in the back corner of the room. She hadn’t moved from the cramped foetal position for God knows how long and it felt as though her knees had permanently locked into place. She was too terrified to cry. And instead softly whimpered and stared at the cast iron door. There was a pile of rotting food sitting at the base of the door; waiting to be eaten, but Emma hadn’t eaten since she was taken. Except in this case her father will not find her kidnapper and he will not kill him; maybe because her father was dead and even if he was alive he couldn’t care less about her. Emma had been stripped down to her undergarments and forced into a fire trap of a room where she had run to the corner and curled up into a ball; watching that door with crazed green eyes. She felt no hunger; no thirst; only fear that came from the cold concrete floor and the occasional sound of footsteps outside the door. Emma experienced an endless shiver and refused to lie down on the thin mattress that was her ‘bed’. There was no plan of escape – because there was no escaping this place.
She’ll learn; she will learn to listen. Nobody ever listens to Harry.
I gave her everything; I just want to keep her safe but she doesn’t understand how much I love her.
Harry swallowed a large mouthful of whiskey and grasped the table as the burning sensation travelled down his throat. He sat for a minute and looked at the door.
She has no idea what I do for her.
He took another large gulp but didn’t bother to grab at the table as the whiskey travelled down his throat.
I will show her; she deserves to be taught respect.
The room was about two metres by two metres and Emma pushed back at the furthest wall to try and get away.
“No!” She screamed at him. “No! Get away from me!” Harry moved closer to her and raised his belt.
“You listen to me you whore!” He yelled back. Emma whimpered but still no tears came out.
“Please, Harry. Please don’t hurt me, just let me go.” Emma pleaded. Harry came down on her with the belt. She screamed and turned her body away from him. “Harry, please don’t.” She said between sobs. Harry bent down and ripped at her arm and dragged her across the floor.
“Nobody,” Harry kicked her viscously in the stomach. “Ever,” He kicked her again. “Listens,” Another kick. “To,” He kicked her dead on in the bladder and she gave up and a small pool of urine formed. “Harry!” He yelled out ‘Harry’ and mauled her body and kicked and kicked until she stopped screaming. Harry noticed the small puddle of urine and spat on her. “You’re disgusting.” With the final remark Harry walked out of the room and kicked at the pile of food. Emma drifted in and out of consciousness but all she could remember was not being able to stop peeing.
Emma woke to the sound of metal clanking and a pile of food squished through the door and landed in front of her. She groaned and clutched at her now purple stomach. She still couldn’t cry. Emma reached out to the food but contracted quickly with the pain that shot up her arm; he must have kicked it. She pushed herself up with the other arm and crawled over to the food. It was a squished sandwich and she took a bite; preparing to puke. It stayed down so she took another bite and another until half the sandwich had been eaten. She chucked the rest back at the door and crawled over to the mattress and tried to find a comfortable position. She kept her eyes trained on the door in case he came back again.
Harry had always liked Emma; she was beautiful and when she smiled he turned on like an out-of-control chainsaw. But Emma didn’t like Harry and Harry could never figure out why.
Why doesn’t she like me? I did so much for her! We used to be neighbours and I used to cut their lawn on Saturday’s and she used to never close her blinds for me but I only looked for a little bit each night and then I closed my curtains – I wasn’t a pervert. But she said I was; at school people used to call me Pervy Harry and they would sympathise with Emma but she was the one that never closed her blinds because she loved me. She always loved me and now we can be together; forever.
Harry bought her provocative clothing – Bras, G-strings, anything to make him hot. Emma refused to wear them and he beat her until she agreed but she was covered in these purple coloured bruises and Harry couldn’t figure out why. He made her stand and dance in her new clothes while he sat and chugged the whiskey and watched her.
The night Harry made her dance was the night that Emma cried. She cried until her lungs hurt and her whole body ached in pain and fear that she wasn’t getting out of this; she was trapped and she couldn’t do anything but to sob and bruise. Harry was nuts; maybe she shouldn’t have called him Pervy Harry but the guy built a pole with a hook on the end to unhook her curtains when she was getting changed. She locked her windows but he managed to open them. He didn’t even remember her mum calling the police about him while her dad lay passed out drunk on the front lawn. Emma never lived in a safe neighbourhood; that’s why she moved. She didn’t want to have to look for needles on the ground when she walked or for sex traffickers in white vans when they roamed the streets looking for little girls. She wanted to live somewhere where there were no Harry’s and there were no cast-iron basement rooms and where he would never find her and drag her back home and lock her in the afore-mentioned basement but she knew that there was no hope of her getting away; she was trapped with a mad man who beat her. All she had left was fear.
**Author’s Note: This story was written for a contest where the theme was ‘Fear’. I Hope you all like it and don’t be afraid to leave your opinion – Rose Burg xx**
© Copyright 2016 Rose Burg. All rights reserved.