Chapter eight
Molly woke up in a daze with a throbbing headache that was beyond tolerable. The pain in her arms were unbearable as she tried to move. It hurt too much. She looked over at the little horse statue that sat on her night stand across the bedroom where she lay and thought back to when she was just a girl. She had the very horse on her nightstand then when she was a child.
She thought back to the husband who she had been coerced into wedding because their parents were control freaks. She was in so much pain she couldn’t even stand it. This was not going to be her day. She could barely muster the strength to look around the room. It came back to her every day slowly, piece by piece.
Molly would drift into sleep each night and wake up each morning wishing death would come and relieve her misery. She couldn’t understand why he was doing this to her. Somehow he blamed her for everything. A twinge of pain began creeping up her spine and she wanted nothing more than to scream on top of her lungs. It was too much she knew that this was not her day. He was out doing whatever it was he did all day.
Molly tried to wiggle her toes. She thinking to herself if only she could move her foot she could get up. There was another surge of pain shooting up her leg from her broken toes and then it came back to her. She remembered where she was.
Tied to a bed, bandaged and broken by a man she barely understood it all started coming back to her. She couldn’t even muster the tears to cry, her pain was too great. He had tied her to the bed not with a rope but with chains, not hardware store chains but the kind they locked up criminals with. She tried not to think of the torture he put her through but the pain in her body was too great she could feel every bone he had broken, every bruise he inflicted and every cut he made on her flesh.
This sick monster of a man would torture her, nurse her back to health and start it all over again. It was too much to ask for death to rescue her from this existence that she had somehow fallen into. As it had done every day before the pain was too great and she passed out.
The haze returned as she slowly began to wake up from her nightmares. Just as before the pain came first, then the memories, and then reality. She had no idea how much time she had spent chained to that bed.
The man who did this to her, a man she once loved, barely even took the time to enter. She must have been hooked up to some feeding machine of some sort because she had a lump in her throat that felt like food passing through her esophagus. It was just one more unpleasant feeling she had to endure. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut; she could get just enough vision from the slits to tell her she was not going anywhere.
Her tormentor had beaten her as near to death as he could get her. He would then spend the next several weeks comforting her, pampering her as he nursed her back to full health. He would break every bone in her leg. Let her heal, then do the same to her other leg. He did this to her arms next. Once they had all healed sufficiently he started the whole process over again. One by one, bone by bone.
Molly had no idea how long she had been here. It felt like eternity. She had no clue why he did what he did, he never spoke to her. She was chained to a bed naked and broken with no idea why she was being made to suffer.
Tears tried to swell up in her eyes only they were blinked back as she refused to let it get to her. She was a fighter, always had been, so she knew she could get through this. The days grew longer as she began to think time was on the side of her tormentor and it was a game she feared she was going to lose.
Her thoughts slowly began to move away from her condition to the condition her daughter must be in. Melody was the worst part of the torture. She tried to think about what that poor girl was going through on her end. It was hard enough to suffer through the abuse of this man she now knew she could never love again.
She didn’t know exactly what happened to Melody her daughter, just that she was kidnapped and sold to traffickers. She knew that much because that was part of her torture. The man responsible for all this, he made a video tape showing him selling the young girl to Venezuelan smugglers. He didn’t show the obvious what went on behind the scenes only enough to let her know her daughter was very much a part of the abuse she was to experience.
Thinking about what poor Melody must be going through clearly was a part of her punishment for whatever crime it was her captor felt she had committed. He was not going to win that easy.
She couldn’t see much just that horse on the night stand directly in her line of sight. What an asshole, it was not just physical the abuse, he meant to fuck with her mind too. She figured that must be the reason why he arranged this bedroom to look just as her old room from childhood.
As far as she could see it was all the same, even the bed she was chained was the exact same bed she spent her youth in dreaming of someday getting married to a wonderful man, having a career and starting a family of her own. She never once imagined that the man she would fall in love with would be responsible for her current state of constant abuse and suffering.
Her eyes were basically useless. She knew very little about her surroundings other than what he told her, and what she could imagine. She knew she was naked, that much was clear. Despite that fact she thought it was odd he never abused her sexually. She didn’t think much of it honesty.
Molly was taking stock of her current physical condition; it was mental exercise she undertook as a way to keep in touch with her situation. She felt like this was how she was going to die. Chained to this lunatics bed. She decided the pain was too much. She closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
Stephanie Bri 