The Mistake That Broke Me

Chapter Sixteen: The Brothel

Song: Way Down We Go by Kaleo

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Waking up in a small, dirty room bound and gagged is something that was not in my plans for the future. 

In fact, when I envisioned the future, I pictured something much more different than this. I laugh bitterly, not surprised that life has yet again kicked me down.

Will I be able to get back up this time?

I don't know.

Because right now, my chances aren't looking good at all. My head is pounding and I'm sure a bump has made itself present onto the side of my head. I've got many scrapes and bruises from the fight I put up and my arms feel cramped from being tied tightly behind my back.

The floor is concrete and hard beneath my body. I struggle to sit up and soon, I manage to find myself with my back against the wall, panting for air through my nose because tape and cloth are shoved deeply into my mouth.

My mouth is painfully dry, the cloth having soaked up all my saliva.

I'm scared. No, I'm terrified, but I'd be damned to let these people see that. I can't let them affect me, I can't them see just how vulnerable I am. I can't be seen as weak because the weak are easily controlled.

The powerless are easily thrown into submission.

I take my time to survey my surroundings. I'm in a damp, small room. The walls are painted grey and they're crumbling. The floors are concrete and dusty and the door is made of steel.

There's absolutely nothing I could use to escape or protect myself. Even if there was, I can't exactly do anything as my wrists are painfully tied together and my mouth is stuffed like some Thanksgiving turkey.

What will he do to me? Will he rape me then throw my body into some unknown territory? Surely nobody would catch him because now, I'm just a nobody. I'm a faceless homeless woman on the streets who has no family or friends to report her missing.

Or is this man a psychopath of some sort? Will I be involved in his sick twisted game where he's obsessed with me and will be his little pet? I've seen those documentaries before of girls who have been captured by some psychopath and held captive for years.

Or, am I stuck in a situation where I will be exploited for men's enjoyment? The possibilities are endless and none of the possibilities have a bright side.

You've been through hell, Addy, surely you can overcome this, too. I tell myself in an attempt to encourage myself. I feel a panic attack coming on and I do my best to keep my breathing exercises intact like the doctors had told me.

Breathe Addy, breathe. You'll get through this. You'll get through this. But this time, I'm not so sure. Maybe it would be better to die. I mean, if this is what my future beholds then perhaps I'd rather be murdered by some sick pervert than to live life as a captive.

No, don't think like that. Life is a blessing, or at least it should be. Be strong.

I flood my mind with encouragement thoughts and yet, I don't believe them. I can't stop my eyes from watering. I feel like screaming and cursing life itself. How many times can life kick me until I no longer can get up? Until I no longer can find the strength to crawl towards the finish line?

Because isn't that what life is?

A race?

One big, great race that everyone runs in order to find their finish line, or their rest? Isn't it everyone's goal to finish well in their race of life?