Martyr
has great pain or distress inflicted on them by another.
a great or constant sufferer
I still remember the first time they inflicted pain on me. The of my screams, the scars I still have to remind me of what they did. As the years went by, my injuries grew and their torture became more intense. They would always say I was their special girl but still continue to add to my growing collection of injuries. I've sopped thinking of my family, they probably don't care anymore. I just long for someone to hold me and say everything is going to be okay and truly mean it, like she used to do. Girls have come and left in bin bags but somehow I'm still here. My name is Spencer Hastings and welcome to my hell.
FLASHBACK 10 years ago
Spencer's P.O.V
"Please! I don't want to! Let me go! I want to go home!" These desperate pleas were simply just ignored by the brute half-dragging half-carrying me. I'd been screaming for hours after they'd thrown me into a small metal box-shaped room, but by the time that man had come to take me somewhere else, my throat was dry and burning. Bu I still did everything I could, as child with barely any strength, to get this man to let go of me. But nothing worked.
He pulled me into a large room, something like a warehouse perhaps, and forcibly pushed me into some sort of torture device which I soon found out was a chair. Another man held me down, I struggled but it was no use and I was restrained: around my ankles and wrists. I started screaming again but that was soon muffled by a scarf or something. The 2 men left the room as I writhed in the chair, longing to be free.
A couple minutes passed, and my attempts to free myself we unsuccessful. Then I heard footsteps, 2 pairs, and 1 of them sounded like heels. For the first time in a while, I felt hopeful that my parents were here to free me and take me home. But these weren't my parents. The woman kneeled in front of me and started caressing my cheek but I squirmed away from her touch. The other person, a man in a surgical mask, proceeded to pull on plastic gloves. "It's alright, your safe, we're going to take good care of you. Your helping us discover life's greatest mystery." This woman's words gave me no comfort. She then stood up and kissed my forehead. "Welcome to our family Project 103." she said. Then I heard the sound of a drill and the surgeon masked began approaching me. Never had I wished more to be dead.
YOU ARE READING
Spoby: Through Her Pain
Mystery / ThrillerToby Cavanaugh has been working for the Rosewood Police Department for nearly a year. Everything is normal until he's called to an abandoned warehouse and finds a dying girl. And her story is more gruesome than could be imagined.
