Through the Light of the Bottle
These Bright Lights Are Always Blinding Me
I wake up as my bare skin on my back is thrown against a cold smooth surface and my head connects with an hard metal object. My eyes blink open, blindness from an overly white room causing my lids to fall shut quickly in pain. I squint up my face, my head throbbing, I feel a wetness soaking matting my hair down. I try to lift my hands to grasp the painful area, but my arm sockets are straining as I realize my wrists are bound together behind my back.
I bite my lip, trying to calm myself down, willing the situation to be a horrible prank pulled by some sick fuck, probably by the name of Frank or Mikey.
I glance around and see that I’m in a bathtub in a Hilton, judging by the towels that hang delicately on the hanger across the room. I look at my own body, biting my lip harder as I realize I’m only in jeans, my shirt ripped off, lying near the toilet, leaving my bra the only shield protecting my upper body.
A shiver runs through my body as I adjust myself, placing more skin against the cold tile beneath me. I turn my head slightly, feeling my vision briefly fade, seeing the object that my head collided with was the tub’s faucet. As I’m staring at the silver, metal tap, the thin coat of red liquid adorning its smooth surface, heavy footsteps enter through the door and I hear a masculine murmur as he sees my awakened state. I start to turn my head, but his hands grab my neck, forcing my cheek down on to the bottom of the tub, leaving my eyes staring at the white tiles of the tub instead of the attackers face. He lifts me up, one hand covering my eyes and pushes me hard against the wall, my stomach now subject to the shocking coldness contrasting with my heated skin.
His hot breath hits my ear, I can practically hear him fucking grinning. Through the space between his fingers, I see a hand reach out, yanking a towel from its rack. He shoves my body into the wall with his hips and he releases his hand from my eyes. He lays the towel on my back and I see the red of a Swiss army knife appear and promptly disappear out of my vision.
And suddenly I’m willing myself to go further into the wall, trying desperately to escape what I realize is to come, but the pressure of the tip of the knife starts at the nape of my neck. He drags the knife down slowly; I scream, I tense my back muscles and shift my shoulders, trying to flight the horrifying pain.
He kicks the back of my ankles swiftly, and I freeze, my pleas become caught in my throat. The knife reaches the small of my back and I hear part of the towel drop with a thud.
He grabs my hair sharply, forcing my head back, my mouth falling open, and the white pristine towel is shoved in between my teeth. He ties it tightly behind my head, catching a few stands of hair in the knot.
My tongue runs over the metallic taste of my own blood, leaving me gagging and with tears forming in my eyes. My throat produces a muffled cry as I feel him reach down and grab the other half of the towel, before tying it quickly around the top of my head, shielding my sight.
He gives me one last thrust with his body, and my hip bones crash into the walls with a sickening thud. He backs away and I crumble to the ground, sliding around on the slick surface beneath me.
I pretend its sweat that made the previously dry surface wet.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as I hear the clinking of glass enter the room, carried by a new seat of footsteps.
“What the fuck toook you so goddamn long,” her voice is hard and sharp. Her language deliverance is contrary to her tone, coming out rushed.
“Shut the fuck up, I had some fun,” he slaps my back hard and my shoulders heave as I break down sobbing.
I know that voice, I know that voice, I scream in my head, trying to place its low tone, accompanied by a thick accent, far from the Jersey roadies that have been working on the tour. I bang my head against the wall, trying to place it, but I feel his hand wrap around my neck, pulling me backwards.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” his low tone fills my ear, breath ghosting neck, and involuntary shake.
“Let’s just fucking do it,” her voice carries strong impatience.
“Sweetheart, this is what you get for fucking around,” his grip tightens on my neck, pulling me down towards the bottom of the tub.
Her footsteps near me. Suddenly, she’s grasping my arm and I feel her running her fingers around my forearm, before tracing the bump of my main vein. I scream through the barrier of the towel as I feel a large needle enter my system, emptying its content in my bloodstream.
Panic sets in; the kind where your stomach feels so completely small and has taken up the movements of a roller coaster, your cheeks burn with the worry that is shaking your whole body, you heart thuds rapidly against your rib cage, you don’t even notice the strong line of tears that rush down your damp cheeks.
I can’t remember if I heard the tap turning on, but suddenly a cool liquid surrounds body, drenching my jeans, weighing me down farther into the torment. There’s a break in between the next rush of liquid onto my body, and suddenly, my ears tune to the sound of the metal scrapping against the glass as I realize they’re opening bottles and pouring it on me.
And suddenly, I’m pulled out of my thoughts as the liquid makes it’s way to my back, the destroyed skin exposed to fluid surrounding my body.
And I scream; the fucking pain tearing my mind from the towel choking me, the fact that the liquid level is slowly rising, that the sound of bottles clinking and being opened never seems to end. The towel that’s shoved obscenely between my lips and teeth is damp from my short fearful breaths, and I bite down hard on it, as my skin burns, my fingers strain to reach the pained area but fail from the restrictions of their restraints.
My upper torso absorbs the cool liquid unwillingly.
My head is thrashing back and forth from each side of the tube, and a heavy feeling takes over my body, to which I ignore. The feeling of my needle driving itself through my skin is forced to the back of my mind, even though I sub conscientiously know whatever the fuck was in it, has cause my legs to feel like they’re under the curse of a goddamn sandman.
The fluid dances around my neck, the waves of disruption from added water and my shaking body plays over my skin, leaving goose-bumps and fear in it’s wake.
All feeling disappears from my arms in a matter of seconds.
The liquid splashes near my ear the liquid surround my ear, and quickly moving inside them, reducing all sounds to dull thuds.
I start hyperventilating, to my ability at least.
I try to lift my head from the surface of the fluid that has touched every part of my body, traced every outline, except from the gash that resides on the back of my head. My neck strains after a couple minutes, my spine screams at the awkwardness of the position I put myself in.
I take deep breathes, trying hard to calm myself down, when sounds of the water pouring onto my body stop abruptly. I feel myself being lifted, the sound of the liquid being displaced rushes about me. His hand encircles my neck, pulling my upper half closer to his own body.
“How you feel about it now,” he breaths into my ear, forcing me back down, and my a searing white pain washes over my body as the back of my head and the cut that took up a large portion of it, hits the water with a splash. My mouth falls open, a breath of shock is taken, only to be filled with the liquid that I’m submersed under, leaving me screaming a muffled cry beneath the already disrupted fluid.
I feel light headed, as I try to struggle to reach some air, but the thrashing that my brain is telling my body to make, is being ignored as I lay motionless and silent in the liquid hell.
I float a little upwards, my nose passing above the surface of the water and clean air is admitted to my lungs. I try to calm myself more, as I slowly begin to float, soon my mouth emerges from the cold, confining water.
And suddenly, my head throbs, but not from the abrasion that is currently being torn apart by the liquid, but the after taste that resides in my mouth, or the clean, yet burning odor filling my nostrils. My mind freezes in shock, which coupled with the suddenly pressure of someone’s entire weight pushing me down to the bottom of the tub, causes me to pull out of reality, dropping to a blank darkness.
_______________________________________________________
I keep my eyes shut, unwilling to make myself be faced with the bright white walls of that god damned bathroom. But the voice from an ancient intercom floats into my ears accompanied by a persistent beeping near the right side of my body, and my face pulls confusion, as I realize I’m not in the bathtub, or the bathroom for that matter.
I slowly blink my eyes open, seeing the bumps of my legs underneath a thin blue blanket. A tube runs into my arm which is laid delicately across my stomach, the other one underneath it. My arm that isn’t being invaded by the needle and tube reaches up to my face rubbing the fatigue from my eyes, my fingers brushing over a rough surface that is wrapped around my entire head.
I realize it’s a bandage, and make the connection quickly that I’m lying in a hospital, but my thoughts halt as I see his sleeping form, curled up in a cheap plastic chair, head resting on the end of my bed, his fingers absentmindedly tracing my ankle.
My mind draws a blank and his eyes slowly blink open, a look of pure joy replacing the exhaustion and masking the weakness that’s apparent to even me. I open my mouth to utter a hello, but am quickly cut off by the shriek of a nurse as she rounds the corner, my bed coming into her sight. She calls to the other doctors and nurses, who come rushing in, shooing him out of the way.
I strain my head to move around their bodies, as they swarm to my bandages and machines that are scattered around my bed. He smiles softly before disappearing behind the curtain.
And above the calls of the doctors and the sounds of the machines, I hear the faint click of the door hitting its frame.
I bite my lip, trying to calm myself down, willing the situation to be a horrible prank pulled by some sick fuck, probably by the name of Frank or Mikey.
I glance around and see that I’m in a bathtub in a Hilton, judging by the towels that hang delicately on the hanger across the room. I look at my own body, biting my lip harder as I realize I’m only in jeans, my shirt ripped off, lying near the toilet, leaving my bra the only shield protecting my upper body.
A shiver runs through my body as I adjust myself, placing more skin against the cold tile beneath me. I turn my head slightly, feeling my vision briefly fade, seeing the object that my head collided with was the tub’s faucet. As I’m staring at the silver, metal tap, the thin coat of red liquid adorning its smooth surface, heavy footsteps enter through the door and I hear a masculine murmur as he sees my awakened state. I start to turn my head, but his hands grab my neck, forcing my cheek down on to the bottom of the tub, leaving my eyes staring at the white tiles of the tub instead of the attackers face. He lifts me up, one hand covering my eyes and pushes me hard against the wall, my stomach now subject to the shocking coldness contrasting with my heated skin.
His hot breath hits my ear, I can practically hear him fucking grinning. Through the space between his fingers, I see a hand reach out, yanking a towel from its rack. He shoves my body into the wall with his hips and he releases his hand from my eyes. He lays the towel on my back and I see the red of a Swiss army knife appear and promptly disappear out of my vision.
And suddenly I’m willing myself to go further into the wall, trying desperately to escape what I realize is to come, but the pressure of the tip of the knife starts at the nape of my neck. He drags the knife down slowly; I scream, I tense my back muscles and shift my shoulders, trying to flight the horrifying pain.
He kicks the back of my ankles swiftly, and I freeze, my pleas become caught in my throat. The knife reaches the small of my back and I hear part of the towel drop with a thud.
He grabs my hair sharply, forcing my head back, my mouth falling open, and the white pristine towel is shoved in between my teeth. He ties it tightly behind my head, catching a few stands of hair in the knot.
My tongue runs over the metallic taste of my own blood, leaving me gagging and with tears forming in my eyes. My throat produces a muffled cry as I feel him reach down and grab the other half of the towel, before tying it quickly around the top of my head, shielding my sight.
He gives me one last thrust with his body, and my hip bones crash into the walls with a sickening thud. He backs away and I crumble to the ground, sliding around on the slick surface beneath me.
I pretend its sweat that made the previously dry surface wet.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as I hear the clinking of glass enter the room, carried by a new seat of footsteps.
“What the fuck toook you so goddamn long,” her voice is hard and sharp. Her language deliverance is contrary to her tone, coming out rushed.
“Shut the fuck up, I had some fun,” he slaps my back hard and my shoulders heave as I break down sobbing.
I know that voice, I know that voice, I scream in my head, trying to place its low tone, accompanied by a thick accent, far from the Jersey roadies that have been working on the tour. I bang my head against the wall, trying to place it, but I feel his hand wrap around my neck, pulling me backwards.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” his low tone fills my ear, breath ghosting neck, and involuntary shake.
“Let’s just fucking do it,” her voice carries strong impatience.
“Sweetheart, this is what you get for fucking around,” his grip tightens on my neck, pulling me down towards the bottom of the tub.
Her footsteps near me. Suddenly, she’s grasping my arm and I feel her running her fingers around my forearm, before tracing the bump of my main vein. I scream through the barrier of the towel as I feel a large needle enter my system, emptying its content in my bloodstream.
Panic sets in; the kind where your stomach feels so completely small and has taken up the movements of a roller coaster, your cheeks burn with the worry that is shaking your whole body, you heart thuds rapidly against your rib cage, you don’t even notice the strong line of tears that rush down your damp cheeks.
I can’t remember if I heard the tap turning on, but suddenly a cool liquid surrounds body, drenching my jeans, weighing me down farther into the torment. There’s a break in between the next rush of liquid onto my body, and suddenly, my ears tune to the sound of the metal scrapping against the glass as I realize they’re opening bottles and pouring it on me.
And suddenly, I’m pulled out of my thoughts as the liquid makes it’s way to my back, the destroyed skin exposed to fluid surrounding my body.
And I scream; the fucking pain tearing my mind from the towel choking me, the fact that the liquid level is slowly rising, that the sound of bottles clinking and being opened never seems to end. The towel that’s shoved obscenely between my lips and teeth is damp from my short fearful breaths, and I bite down hard on it, as my skin burns, my fingers strain to reach the pained area but fail from the restrictions of their restraints.
My upper torso absorbs the cool liquid unwillingly.
My head is thrashing back and forth from each side of the tube, and a heavy feeling takes over my body, to which I ignore. The feeling of my needle driving itself through my skin is forced to the back of my mind, even though I sub conscientiously know whatever the fuck was in it, has cause my legs to feel like they’re under the curse of a goddamn sandman.
The fluid dances around my neck, the waves of disruption from added water and my shaking body plays over my skin, leaving goose-bumps and fear in it’s wake.
All feeling disappears from my arms in a matter of seconds.
The liquid splashes near my ear the liquid surround my ear, and quickly moving inside them, reducing all sounds to dull thuds.
I start hyperventilating, to my ability at least.
I try to lift my head from the surface of the fluid that has touched every part of my body, traced every outline, except from the gash that resides on the back of my head. My neck strains after a couple minutes, my spine screams at the awkwardness of the position I put myself in.
I take deep breathes, trying hard to calm myself down, when sounds of the water pouring onto my body stop abruptly. I feel myself being lifted, the sound of the liquid being displaced rushes about me. His hand encircles my neck, pulling my upper half closer to his own body.
“How you feel about it now,” he breaths into my ear, forcing me back down, and my a searing white pain washes over my body as the back of my head and the cut that took up a large portion of it, hits the water with a splash. My mouth falls open, a breath of shock is taken, only to be filled with the liquid that I’m submersed under, leaving me screaming a muffled cry beneath the already disrupted fluid.
I feel light headed, as I try to struggle to reach some air, but the thrashing that my brain is telling my body to make, is being ignored as I lay motionless and silent in the liquid hell.
I float a little upwards, my nose passing above the surface of the water and clean air is admitted to my lungs. I try to calm myself more, as I slowly begin to float, soon my mouth emerges from the cold, confining water.
And suddenly, my head throbs, but not from the abrasion that is currently being torn apart by the liquid, but the after taste that resides in my mouth, or the clean, yet burning odor filling my nostrils. My mind freezes in shock, which coupled with the suddenly pressure of someone’s entire weight pushing me down to the bottom of the tub, causes me to pull out of reality, dropping to a blank darkness.
_______________________________________________________
I keep my eyes shut, unwilling to make myself be faced with the bright white walls of that god damned bathroom. But the voice from an ancient intercom floats into my ears accompanied by a persistent beeping near the right side of my body, and my face pulls confusion, as I realize I’m not in the bathtub, or the bathroom for that matter.
I slowly blink my eyes open, seeing the bumps of my legs underneath a thin blue blanket. A tube runs into my arm which is laid delicately across my stomach, the other one underneath it. My arm that isn’t being invaded by the needle and tube reaches up to my face rubbing the fatigue from my eyes, my fingers brushing over a rough surface that is wrapped around my entire head.
I realize it’s a bandage, and make the connection quickly that I’m lying in a hospital, but my thoughts halt as I see his sleeping form, curled up in a cheap plastic chair, head resting on the end of my bed, his fingers absentmindedly tracing my ankle.
My mind draws a blank and his eyes slowly blink open, a look of pure joy replacing the exhaustion and masking the weakness that’s apparent to even me. I open my mouth to utter a hello, but am quickly cut off by the shriek of a nurse as she rounds the corner, my bed coming into her sight. She calls to the other doctors and nurses, who come rushing in, shooing him out of the way.
I strain my head to move around their bodies, as they swarm to my bandages and machines that are scattered around my bed. He smiles softly before disappearing behind the curtain.
And above the calls of the doctors and the sounds of the machines, I hear the faint click of the door hitting its frame.