Silence.
1
She shivered when she was thrown on the floor. The cement under her barely covered body was almost ice cold. She had no choice to lay on it though. It was numb in between her legs due to how roughly the man had his way with her. Her left eye was swollen shut and her legs were covered with bruises as well as her arms.
She didn't dare refuse the man. She didn't dare make sounds of fear or even shrieks. She would have been beaten more harshly.
She had been thrown in a horrid room. Her 'special room' that was just for her. A dark place where the men fuck with her psychologically before doing it physically. She didn't know what to do but crawl in the corner and be swept away by dreams. But even in her dreams this darkness followed her. She could never escape it. She could hear, but her voice was gone. Being silent no matter what the reason, had been beaten into her head.
She had been taught to fight and kill along side others. She was taught to fear the men who taught her. She was taught to obey someones every command without refusal and question. She wasn't going to be sold; she was made to be a weapon for these people. After all the years she had been there, she still wasn't sure about the reason or what these people did. She wasn't taught how to read, how to write, how to do math. Just to fight and kill. She was paranoid, her senses were heightened. She was stealthy.
She was desperate to escape. Of course, the thought of escaping made her terrified; almost to the point of pushing the thought out of her mind and never considering it. She had known nothing but the darkness and sadness. Nothing but hate and cruelty. She knew what the outside world looked like. She knew how to blend in. However, the thought of escaping and possibility of being caught made her feel this kind of impending doom inside her stomach. It made her sick. She knew they wouldn't kill her if she tried to get out. No, they'd made death look like a heaven. If she knew any better, they would only torture her to an extent so extreme, she'd be pushed to suicide.
Even though her innocence, the light that once shined in her eyes, and the color in her skin was ripped away from her, there was still a slither of hope. Hope and a pinch of bravery.
She didn't dare refuse the man. She didn't dare make sounds of fear or even shrieks. She would have been beaten more harshly.
She had been thrown in a horrid room. Her 'special room' that was just for her. A dark place where the men fuck with her psychologically before doing it physically. She didn't know what to do but crawl in the corner and be swept away by dreams. But even in her dreams this darkness followed her. She could never escape it. She could hear, but her voice was gone. Being silent no matter what the reason, had been beaten into her head.
She had been taught to fight and kill along side others. She was taught to fear the men who taught her. She was taught to obey someones every command without refusal and question. She wasn't going to be sold; she was made to be a weapon for these people. After all the years she had been there, she still wasn't sure about the reason or what these people did. She wasn't taught how to read, how to write, how to do math. Just to fight and kill. She was paranoid, her senses were heightened. She was stealthy.
She was desperate to escape. Of course, the thought of escaping made her terrified; almost to the point of pushing the thought out of her mind and never considering it. She had known nothing but the darkness and sadness. Nothing but hate and cruelty. She knew what the outside world looked like. She knew how to blend in. However, the thought of escaping and possibility of being caught made her feel this kind of impending doom inside her stomach. It made her sick. She knew they wouldn't kill her if she tried to get out. No, they'd made death look like a heaven. If she knew any better, they would only torture her to an extent so extreme, she'd be pushed to suicide.
Even though her innocence, the light that once shined in her eyes, and the color in her skin was ripped away from her, there was still a slither of hope. Hope and a pinch of bravery.