Their Reserve

Dark

I guess a Merry Christmas is in order. 

I hope this counts as a gift. This is for everyone who asked me to write a second book. And everybody who didn't but meh. 

Comment and enjoy!!!

This will be confusing, but is essential later! 

A Girl's POV:

She doesn't remember a time when she wasn't afraid of the dark. She doesn't remember a time when it wasn't mostly dark here. She doesn't know how long she's been here. She can't remember before. All she can remember is now. All she can remember is the dark.

The pain.

He brings the pain. He is the only thing she sees, because he brings a faint light with him. She hates him. Always has. Ever since the first time. The first time that his hug turned to a hit. That the press of his lips on her head became a sting of a slap to her cheek.

She doesn't know how long she's been here.

She hates it.

He brings her food.

He makes her eat it.

If she could, she wouldn't eat, she would let herself starve, let herself drift away. To somewhere far, far away from here. Anywhere would be better than here.

But he watches her eat. If she doesn't eat quickly, it's worse, everything is worse. But if she throws up-that's bad as well. Anything she does is bad, according to him. Everything she does is wrong. He tells her himself; no one is coming for her. She's going to spend her life here.

She hates it.

She hates him.

And there is nothing she can do. Everything hurts. Her side hurts where he threw her to the floor yesterday.

The small crack of light that occasionally appears, when he comes, shows her the square box of grey she lives in. The light shows her left side, it's not the same colour as the rest if her skin.

Her wrists hurt, where she was tied to bed frame, the only thing in her 'room', cell would be more accurate, but he calls it her 'room', so that's what it is. Her head hurts, she's not sure if that from the lack of water yesterday, or from when he hit it into a wall a few days ago. Either way it feels like someone is stabbing her in the head. She knows what being stabbed feels like.

She knows no one is coming but that doesn't stop her from dreaming, he can't stop her from dreaming, can't stop her from wishing, from hoping. He can't destroy her brain. Even if the hope is so small that she hardly feels it any more. She hardly feels anything anymore.

What is there to feel?

Pain?

Hopelessness?

Despair?

But sometimes it's too much, sometimes she screams. He likes that, he likes it when she shows that it hurts. Which is why she fights so hard to remove that satisfaction from him. She knows it just encourages him, but sometimes she just can't help it.

She sit's, waiting in the darkness. She knows his coming. She can hear him moving above her. Hear his footsteps shuffling around. She thinks he does it on purpose, tries to make her nervous, tries to make her scared, but she is immune to that now, it's happened too many times.

Something is different this time. It's not shuffling anymore. Now there are thumps, thuds. Noises that she hasn't heard in any other context apparent from against her. It makes no sense to her. So, she waits, sitting calmly on the bed, like he likes her too, it's the easiest way to make him hurt her less.