Peaches

Thirty Two

"M— where—" I strained, grunting out words that were locked in my mouth. Impossible to get out—

"Quiet." He shook me, reaching one hand up to slap the back of my head. A hit directed at the center point of my pain. "Be good and still."

Where are we—

A horrible stench began to fill my nose, a smell of chemicals and musty rot that seemed to line the grimy walls of the corridor. It kept me conscious, aware that we were now going down another set of stairs. Further down into this giant building.

What could be waiting for me there?

Chains and fences? Gruesome scenes of blood-spattered buckets and tools?

I was becoming increasingly aware of the way my dangling legs were smacking against the front of his pants, almost hitting him in the prize-winning spot. My arms and legs were no longer bound. I had a chance if I just—

On the second to last step, I put my mind to watching his foot pattern, waiting for the perfect chance to lodge my foot into his crotch. If it wasn't for my blurry vision, I'm sure I would have a sure chance at a fighting shot but—

I will need to run.

To kill.

I need to get free.

Be free.

Focus.

One.

Two—

"Three!" I swung my foot out as far as I could, tearing my whole lower body away from him so I had enough leverage to hit him right.

Right in the stomach.

Another to the balls.

And one more—

He was shouting now, constricting me tighter until he had enough, tossing my limp body down to the cruel floor. Cursing long strings of hateful words, Marcello brought his leather shoe down onto my ribcage, kicking me onto my back.

Breathe. Don't forget to breathe.

Don't get—

Forget to breathe.

"You like to kick?" He shouted, landing solid kick after kick until I was gasping for air, choking on gasps that had yet to leave my tight throat. "Wake up, Puta! You want to run?" Cackling as I rolled on the floor, spurting out gravelly moans under his shoe, he found amusement in my pain.

I do want to run. I need to run.

"Start fucking running, bitch."

I want to but I—

"I can't," pathetically sobbing through each word only heightened his excitement. Laughing harder now, almost maniacally, he hoisted me from the floor, dragging me down the long stretch of concrete hallway.

"No!" I cried, thrashing and scratching until his hand was against my mouth to cover my howls.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" He yelled louder over me, tugging harder until we were at the next set of stairs.

Lights out.

—

The slow grind of metal scraping over the floor startled me back to reality, and I was met with an ice-cold chill.

An open door.

That foul smell.

Where am I?