I think I’ve tested some boundaries with this one. I’ve never written from the point of view of a woman, firstly, and if it’s a little too dark, I apologise – the words seemed to fall from my fingertips. That photo also inspired me. It was like the spider was blocking the entrance. I can’t wait to see the other submissions for Tastes of the Darkness.
The word entered my mind and I stopped. Maybe this wasn’t the right path to take, but I had veered down many others and it had always led me to a dead end.
That’s what he wanted of me: Dead and End.
I went to run my fingers through my hair and only found bare skin and the shadow of my thick hair, now gone. He had taken it from me. But more importantly, he had taken my freedom from me. That bastard.
Defeated, I sat back down again, contemplating what would happen next. Escape seemed like betrayal. He would be mad. What would happen next? He had already done so much. Bashed and abused me like an object and then done the same to my mind, like a tumour, thick and inescapable.
But worst of all, he had violated me. Taken from me my soul and the control I had over my body. He had taken, taken, taken, and only given me one thing. I didn’t want it. His thick piece of meat would be better in the trashcan. It would be better in the mouth of something with more teeth than anything my womanhood could manage, despite my deepest desires.
His shadow broke me from my trance. His dark features taunted me, and his confidence told me he didn’t think I would leave. Those eyes had chained me to this room. He had told me leaving would be a betrayal.
I stood up, but didn’t give him any idea of my confidence. Staying would be a betrayal of myself. He smirked, turned and closed the door behind him.
I picked up the bat he had beat me with. He locked it in here with me. He trusted me, he said. He knew, or thought, I wouldn’t dare betray him.
I walked to the door with confidence and swung it open, revealing the bastard once again, but he didn’t see me. I walked behind him and he still didn’t see me. Then, I swung the bat. The blunt force rode through his skull, tore at whatever demons controlled him and he fell to the floor with a satisfying thud. Blood leaked from the wound and I looked away. I didn’t need to see that, but betrayal never felt so good.
writing, flash fiction, horror, prose, fiction, rape, betrayal