Ravage

He fell to the floor, and I waited expectantly to discover what he would do next. I prayed that when he eventually lifted his head I’d see bright blue eyes. But I wasn’t so fortunate. When the monster did raise his head, his pupils were still full and bleeding into the crystal blue irises. With fisted hands he pushed himself from the floor and approached.

I swallowed at the expression of pure hate on his face and cried out when his hand slipped and slammed on the rope above me. His hand then dropped to my stomach and made its way to between my legs.

“No,” I whispered.

The monster’s fingers ran along the top of my pubic hair and he hissed, “Name.”

It was strange, because even terrified, I noticed the difference between Valentin’s voice and the monster’s. The monster’s was colder, no feeling in its timbre. In contrast, in Valentin’s his subtle notes would change, the tone expressing his change in mood, his feelings, his regret.

No sooner had those thoughts entered my mind than the monster pushed his fingers closer to my folds. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying whatever he would do next would be over quick. Then suddenly the monster’s hand stopped before he broached me. My eyes snapped open. I fought for breath as I panted through the fear. My attention was solely fixed on the monster, once again gripping his head, falling to the floor.

His body jerked. Pained groans wrenched from his throat. Sweat poured from his body. Just like before, his hands lifted to the collar around his neck. His hands pulled and pulled at the metal ring caging his neck, until every muscle in his arms shook with the effort.

He panted and panted, until his head lifted. Staring through me were crystal blue eyes. My heart pounded in relief, and managing to find my voice, I rasped, “Valentin.”

Valentin shook his head. Then his unfocused eyes fixed on mine. I saw him drink me in. I saw his face contort on seeing me tied up. I winced when I imagined how I looked, strung up this way.

A sudden gut-wrenching roar came from Valentin’s mouth and he jumped to his feet. He released his grip on the collar and walked to the chest at the side of the room. I held my breath, praying that the monster hadn’t regained control. When Valentin stood back up, he held a knife in his hand. My stomach fell as he approached, but when I saw his eyes were still crystal blue my heart jumped in relief.

Valentin winced with every step he took toward me. I could see blood forming beneath the metal collar. Fear took hold of me when I realized skin underneath was torn.

“Valentin,” I whispered when he was just feet away. Valentin’s jaw tensed, and lifting his arm high, he sliced at the rope above me. I cried out as the rope holding me captive jerked my body, the pain blanching my skin. But Valentin kept hacking at the rope; he hacked until, with a final strike, he cut through the rope and I fell to the bed. Finding strength through a desperate need to be free from my restraints, I unraveled the rope from my chest and arms and bit my lips at the pain of blood refilling my muscles.

Seeing the knife abandoned on the bed, I reached forward and, with shaky arms, cut through the rope at my ankles. As soon as the rope snapped in two, I kicked it off my legs.

Bending over the side of the bed, I vomited on the floor. Feeling light-headed from the fear I had felt, I rolled onto my side. When I looked up it was to see Valentin, back leaning against the nearby wall. His blue eyes were haunted and his arms shaking as he looked upon me.

Zoya, he mouthed, shame shining in his now-clear eyes. I tried to speak, I wanted to, but his massive body began to shake. I watched as his lips thinned and his hands lifted to his collar. It was strange, but as Valentin began pulling at the metal collar, trying his best to rip it apart, his eyes were focused on my breasts. Not understanding what he was staring at, I managed to look down, only to see my skin covered in red teeth marks.

A frustrated groan came from Valentin. He pulled at his collar, legs weakening with every attempt. Spatters of blood began spilling from under the restricting metal. As the collar pulled off his skin, inch by painful inch, I could see needles inserted into it.

Seeing Valentin fall to his knees, the metal collar half hanging from his neck, I forced myself to move to the edge of the bed. I needed him to stop. His face was bright red with the effort to remove the collar, and capillaries were bursting in the whites of his eyes, red replacing the bright white.

I had opened my mouth to shout for him to stop when, with a final broken bellow, the metal collar fell to the floor with a thud. I stared at the metal collar on the floor, the inner band of the device the most horrific thing I had ever seen. Tens of needles were standing, equally spaced around the edges. Beside them were small plastic pellets filled with liquid. Half were empty, but half were still full.

I breathed a sigh of relief when it hit me that Valentin had removed the collar When I glanced up, Valentin was slumped against the wall, his hands holding the skin around his neck. His face had paled, but what had me pushing my bruised body from the bed was the blood pouring down his chest.

Frantic in my movements, I staggered to where Valentin slumped. As I fell to my knees by his side, his dull eyes found mine. He moved his mouth to speak, but I shook my head.

“No,” I whispered, “Don’t try to speak.”

Reaching up, I pulled at his hand, and when it dropped free I swallowed hard. The needle holes around his neck were bleeding badly. A thick red scar appeared soldered on to his skin from where the metal collar had been. I knew that he must have been wearing that collar for years, Lord knows how long. Valentin opened his mouth to speak.

“No,” I pushed firmly.

Closing his eyes in obvious exasperation, he lifted his weak hand and pointed to a place in the wall. At first I couldn’t see what he was seeing. On closer inspection I glimpsed the outline of a door. Getting to my feet, I slowly made my way to the door and pressed on the shape. The door clicked open. Inside was a small bathroom. I nodded my head when I realized it was the bathroom he’d let me use since I’d been here. He’d always blindfolded me before I used the toilet, to add to the torture. So I didn’t know where I could go to relieve myself unless he took me there.

My eyes had scanned the shower, the toilet, the basin, when they landed on a small closet door at the end of the room. I walked toward it, flinching as I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. When I opened the door towels were piled high. Bottles of hydrogen peroxide were there, along with other medications I didn’t recognize.