"You see, my Little Flower. The world is what you would, uh, call . . . Unfair?" he licked his cracked painting lips, his hands were busying themselves with the leather straps pinning the young nineteen year old female down. His lips releasing a twisted cackle which echoed throughout the room, the very laugh that made his poor little victim shake in fear.
Tighter and tighter, he pulled the strap out and she winced in pain. How tight would it have to be, until he was satisfied with himself? How much more damage could he possibly cause? How many days had it been in this Hell hole? Two-hundred and forty-eight? More? Her legs were aching. He had pressed them down when he was satisfying his male needs. She could feel the bruises from his eager fingertips on her thighs. The wounds all over were still deep, the marks of his knife play. She knew they needed medical attention, but maybe she would die of infection first. Her hazel eyes were blood-shot, dry. They were eyes that had dried up permanently, never to release tears again. She wasn't a human anymore, no. She lost her humanity the day he pulled into this small room. The torture chamber. She was an object for this insane man's desires. An object for torture, sex, and games. She loathed herself, and she loathed him.
He finished adjusting the straps now. A painted grin on his face. He placed one gloved hand on her thigh and slid it up, slowly. The young woman squirmed, and tried moving her legs away. No use, the straps were just too damn tight. He played with her tattered clothes, and occupied himself with her curves, finally resting his hand against her neck. She didn't look at him, she refused. He did not deserve acknowledgement from her. He tightened his grasp. She couldn't breathe. She began to gasp for air, as her body moved around. He slowly lowered his face to hers. "Look at me." he said, tauntingly calmly. She still refused, she was unresponsive. He had already done his daily ritual, what more could he want. His face was slowly snarling into rage, and he applied more pressure to her gullet. She coughed. "Look at me!" He hissed. Demanding now. Her eyes flashed to his face, and she knew he was getting a high from the disgust depicted in her eyes. He raised his head up to the single ceiling light and giggled.
"That's my girl. Now uh, my dear. How often must we . . ." he licked his lips and scanned her body knowingly. He knew every premature curve, every wound. Her body was a map to him, and he could pinpoint any part he desired. " . . . negotiate what you are again? Hmm?" He slid his hand to her forehead and brushed her greasy brunette bangs away from her eyes. She hadn't showered for almost a year, and he gave her scraps that would get her by, but would never fill her up. She was skinny, too skinny. Like a walking skeleton. She responded with a shake to her head. He smiled. "Good, good, good girl." He lowered his lips and pressed them against her ear. Her stomach knotted. Oh, how she wanted to punch him in the stomach. "And if you ever, ever leave. I will find you and I will have my way with you." She snapped her head over to him as he pulled away and she glared, the only defense she had. He clapped his hands and laughed gleefully. Grabbing the pull string to the light. "Good night, my flower." and the room was darkened.
She was safe, safe for another night. But she wished he would just kill her and get it over with. Greensville City Police weren't coming. She gave up after a few months. This was her fate. Besides, she had nothing to go home to, her parents were dead. She closed her eyes and tried to find something happy to think about. Death. Sweet bitter death. And she drifted off into an uncomfortable slumber.
"Are you sure it's her?" a voice rang out in the darkness. Her eyes opened quickly. Oh no. What if it were one of his goons? Her breathing increased. She couldn't see anything. A few footsteps could be heard, and now she was alert.
"What do you-" she was interrupted by a hand closing over her mouth, she released a few muffled screams.
"Shh. My name is Detective Harris. We're going to get you out of here. Remain calm. Understand?" the deep voice whispered. The young woman nodded her head quickly, then the straps were loosened. And then, the light came on. There they were, angels in uniforms and gun. One whipped off his jacket and placed it over the young woman's shoulders. "Get her out of here. We'll go find Jack another day." One of them scooped her up and ran out of the building, she was safe now. Safe in the back seat of a police vehicle. Her head rested against the cushioned seat.
"It's alright, little missy. Everything is alright." And she believed that was true. She escaped.
The next day was a cloudy one and they were going to raid the building they found the you woman in. SWAT teams were readied, police officers were ready. They were going to find him, if he was still in the building, they highly doubted it, but it was worth the shot. They waited for the signal, and once it was given
They charged the building, kicking open doors, raiding rooms. Until finally they came across him. He was in the room where they found the nineteen year old girl was kept, and he was crouched in the corner, laughing. Rocking back and forth and laughing his guts out,. They seized the man and decided to take him to Akrham, and they only heard him repeating one word, "Iris."