Her Sadistic Grin

Nightmares

//About a week later//

Back again. Still the same dark room. Still the same loud machine. This time I was given a head start. I struggled to get up, only to find that I couldn't move. Same as every time. The monitor beeped every so often. It came to be my least favorite sound. On the screen was the number 80 in red. I turned my head ever so slightly to face the machine. I watched with no emotion as the machine counted back. 80,  70, 60, 50, 40, so on. As the number reached zero I braced myself for the pain. It was like being scalded with acid, but I had grown to crave it, to need it. A wave of light came over me and the feeling of absolute bliss melted into my soul. However, as all good things do, it left me in the darkness.

I shot up and gasped for air. Apparently, I had been holding my breath. Wonderful. "Fuck that's the 6th time," I muttered. I looked beside me and saw Kaycee sleeping peacefully like a baby. She looked so young, it was weird how threatening she seemed. A thought came to mind without hesitation. Bash her skull in. I shuddered at my own mind. Even though I would never do that, it felt so good to think about me snapping her neck after she begged for mercy. I could only imagine what her dreams were like. Not as scary as mine I could only assume. It was stupid to be so jealous but it couldn't be helped.

I looked down at my left arm. It looked like a crime scene. Without any real weapons I had gotten creative, as had a lot of people. I used cards, the ends of toothpaste rolls, and even my own hands. As stupid as it might seem cards were very easy to cut with. All you had to do was make sure they didn't get bent and make sure blood wasn't on them. Simple enough. Right? It was worth it, right?

It was so stupid. Kaycee was no more than 80 pounds and 5 feet tall but she was the scariest thing in the world to me. She constantly harassed me, intentionally walking in on me taking a shower or trying to take off my shirt. It was ridiculous how much that upset me though. She didn't stop there of course. She beat the shit out of me daily too. I grew up learning not to be a snitch or you got hurt. So I never told anyone.

It always happened for a reason though. She would do something creepy and I would call her out on it and get punched. It was always my fault. Always her making some sexual advance, me pushing her away, and her beating the shit out of me. I deserved it too. I was a terrible person at home, this was  minor compared to what should have happened to me. I had no right to play the victim. After all, it was all a game to her. She knew I was her little toy, so she used me as she pleased. It didn't matter if her little toy broke, she would just get a new one.

It was almost like my suffering fueled her. Like every time I cut, she got a hit. Every time I cried, she just stood there with a smile. Her sadistic grin haunted me at all times. Sometimes I would apologize, and everything was okay. But then she hurt me again, and that was the cycle I had lost my life to.