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When she came to, she was alone. She still lay stretched on the soiled bed, drenched in sweat, sperm, piss and splatters of blood. Her whole body was one lingering scream of pain. She was still tied up, but one hand was free. It took her about five minutes to free the rest. She broke nails on the ropes. After crawling off the bed, she took a look at her apartment. Nothing was standing anymore. Cupboards and chairs, tables, everything had been overthrown. The walls were splashed with filth, sprayed with paint. "Whore," she read. "Pig." Her clothes lay in a heap. They were torn up and pissed on. Even the tiles in her bathroom had been smashed. The bowl of her toilet was broken in two.
Evelyn sagged to her knees. Her body heaved in search of tears. She crawled into the closet. There she clutched a fluffy rabbit doll and covered herself in clothes, sheets and blankets. Soft meowing sounds left her lips, muffled by the heap of material. Then her phone rang. Evelyn realized she'd clutched the thing ever since she found it under her bed. She pushed a button to silence the happy chime. A small voice talked, chatting about fifty percent off. She pushed another button and the silence returned.
A minute later the phone rang again. She ignored it. Then she plugged her ears with the pink fluff of the rabbit's ears. The cell went off at least five times more. Evelyn drifted into an exhausted sleep.
When she woke up, she had no idea where she was, nor did she know the time. Through the cracked closet door, the light was weak; whether it was dusk or dawn she couldn't say. Her body felt cramped. She didn't move or try to stretch it. Slowly her memories returned. They made her wince. She hugged her chest and pushed her face into the soft heap of textiles. Again, she dozed off.
Finally, she woke up in utter darkness. The little phone in her hand radiated a cool green light. Tiny symbols told her it was near empty. She pushed the button with the green telephone on it. A number lit up. The cool shade of an oasis or the clear fresh tingle of ice cubes in a glass of cold, clear water seem unreal when your heart is scorched, and your soul a desert. But you want to believe they're there. You have no choice, do you?
So, Evelyn believed the sweet voice dripping into her ear. It soothed her bruised and bleeding mind. It put an end to the trembling of her limbs and eased the shaking of her body. Even the ache in her abused muscles seemed to lessen.
"Forgive me, mommy," she whispered. "I have been such a bad girl." The soft voice told her not to worry. "I'll take you away from your hell, sweet darling. All will be well again." Evelyn knew it was a lie. Then again, what did the truth ever bring her?
The little machine shut down with a click.
***
- COMMENTS
DukeofPaducah27 days agoI’m surprised by the lack of comments. I’m not sure if it’s from a dearth of readership or if those reading this story are just too stunned to speak.
I think sometimes the author’s intent is to exaggerate character traits to push the boundaries of believability.
I’m unsure of the benefits. Greater dramatic tension perhaps.
Regardless of the extremity, I feel that ‘trainers’ like Zelda and Lilith are predators, worthy of training in their own right. They should be introduced to extended sessions with the Pear of Anguish. At least until their sphincters cease to perform. They can look forward to being freed from the pesky effort to contain their mud and the comforting swaddle of adult diapers for their remaining time here. You’re welcome, ladies.
A_Bierceover 5 years agoIf angiquesophie were not such a gifted writer, it would be difficult to read more than a page of a story like this. She gives us no respite from the violence and degradation visited upon Evelyn, no clear understanding of whether she is truly making choices or helplessly dancing to the pulls of a soulless puppeteer. When we finish each installment, we're not left with a sense of having been entertained or enlightened or even cauterized, but simply embarrassed that our morbid fascination kept us reading to the end. Yes, she is that good.
LaRascasseover 5 years agoIncredibly well written, yet hard to read. The descriptions of how Evelyn felt brought all the senses into the picture and painted a portrait of how she lay. Her helpless surrender was well written too. I'm hoping one or more of her prior lovers makes a reappearance. Maybe to save her, maybe even to scorn her for leaving them.
