Alena’s Revenge by K.A Knight

Chapter Two

Alena

“Fuck you! You cock-sucking piece of shit!” I shout, uselessly tugging on the chains, my voice raw from all my screaming. Blood steadily drips down my wrists from the shackles biting into my skin, which rips further with my movements.

My arms are dead after hanging in the air for so long, and my hair is matted and greasy, dangling in front of my face and irritating me. My once white tank top is filthy and sticks to my unbound chest with sweat. The white panties they put me in are covered in blood and other stains I’m trying not to think about, the high waistband cutting into my now bony hips. My legs are freezing, and my toes are equally as dirty as the rest of my body, the nails broken and chipped.

What else can you expect after months of captivity?

Crossing my legs, I try to capture some of the warmth rising from the wet stone floor that has become my life, my cell, for the last few months. They dragged me here after the sale went bad and I tried to kill my buyer, labelling me as trash, unworthy to put to work or sell again. Disfigured, they called me, from the scar my last master carved into my ‘once pretty face’ for all to see. They said they would just stick a paper bag on my head, since my body was still fuckable if they didn’t look.

Yet every time they tried to sell me, I managed to wreck it, so eventually they grew bored and brought me in here—a toy for their men to use however they wished. I think they are trying to see how long it takes to kill me. They haven’t fed me in over three days, giving me only tiny sips of water to keep me alive. But they won’t kill me, I won’t give them the pleasure.

“You hear me? You won’t kill me! When I get free, you’re dead! All of you!” I scream, my voice breaking. Tears would fill my eyes if I had more water in my body, or would they? It’s been so long since I’ve cried, and it’s a useless waste of time. It didn’t stop them from taking me.

Raping me.

Selling me.

Torturing me.

Disfiguring me.

Useless, that’s what tears are, just like me.

I hang here, the time passing strangely. I can’t tell if it’s morning or night anymore, never mind what day or month it is. All I know are these four walls, the rats scurrying about in the corner, sometimes biting my toes, the water dripping from the holey roof, and the breeze coming in through the high barred window behind me. My arms are chained to the left and right wall, pulled tight in the air and spread so wide I don’t even know if I would be able to use them anymore.

A noise has me lifting my head sluggishly. “Hello? Is someone there?” I call and then freeze. Fear flows through me, followed by self-hatred and disgust as the door opens, revealing Ken. His thick face is twisted up in a sneer, his hands going to the belt as he pulls it free from his trousers, his sausage fingers fumbling with the movements. He’s not the smartest tool in the box, but he sure is a mean bastard.

He steps closer, his boots loud on the stone. “Miss me, creature?”

“Fuck you, limp dick!” I spit at him, laughing when he recoils in disgust as it hits his face. There’s one thing I’ve learned since I’ve been down here—once you are broken, truly violated, there isn’t much you can’t survive. I quickly grew used to the pain, and excitement courses through me at the thought of hurting this man.

“You’ll pay for that,” he snaps.

Good, it’s better than him sticking that sorry excuse for a cock inside me. I know if I get him mad enough, he’ll just torture me instead. The belt whips out, slapping across my thigh, and I thrash in my chains, pain surging through my body as he hits me with it again and again, the buckle ripping through my skin. I can’t even scream anymore, and eventually, I pass out.

A mercy.

When I wake up, he’s gone.

Blood trickles steadily down my legs, joining the dripping water as it hits the stone below me. It’s just more scars to add to my body. I have lost count of how many they have given me.

If I ever escape, I know I will have to hide away. People will recoil at my appearance, but to me, my body and scars prove I survived. They represent each time I fought to come back, even when the world was against me.

One night, one stupid night brought me here.

I was flirting with a handsome club owner, trying to make my ex jealous, and when we went to his office, he drugged me. I fought as hard as I could, but I was still taken.

I wasn’t strong enough.

Now I am.

I will never let them surprise me again. They can torture me, use me, and break my body repeatedly, but I will never be weak or trusting again. I will get free, and then I will hunt them down one by one and kill them all for what they did to me.

For all the girls they have taken.

I will get my revenge.