A blog about whatever randomosity my fevered mind conceives.

Ashes2Ashes – Part 1/3

WARNING: The following story may be offensive to some readers.


After the darkness returned, the door closed and the footsteps faded away, she released the breath she’d been holding in and the tears began to seep from the corners of her eyes. She didn’t snivel, didn’t whimper, didn’t sob; she knew better than to make any sound at all; but silently mourned for the person she used to be and the life she used to have.

She lay on her side, naked and shivering against the cold concrete floor; sometimes he’d leave her on the bed, but though that offered far more comfort, she’d come to think of it as just another trick. On the bed, when she’d awake warm and nestled in softness, for just a moment she’d forget where she was and what she was becoming. Each time that happened, it made the reality that much more terrible to accept.   

Her body ached from the repeated abuse – blows to help her remember the ‘lessons’ as he’d often said – and her ribs throbbed where they connected with the chilled cement, but she knew it wiser not to move. The ropes that bound her were tighter than usual – particularity around her wrists – and she knew that even the slightest of movements would alter the pressure on her nerves, resulting in excruciating paresthesia. Time and experience had taught her that if she could remain perfectly still, she could avoid that agony; at least for a time.

Something moved furtively in the perfect blackness of the room. She’d yet to see them – and they’d yet to grow bold enough to approach her – but she’d begun to suspect that she shared her prison with rats. Rats… or that whispering-scraping sound was the Reaper’s black cloak slipping along the concrete as he paced in the shadows waiting to collect his prize.

She couldn’t stop herself from envisioning a skeletal face peering out at her with empty sockets from beneath a dark cowl. The image reached down inside of her and caressed her terror, sending an icy tremor racing down her spine. That tiny motion set off the chain reaction she’d been trying to avoid.

It began – just as she knew it would – as a slight tingle-tickle in the very tips of her fingers and toes. As the sensation moved into her hands and feet it had become painful, and by the time it reached her limbs it had become an agonizing torment. She bit her lip to keep from calling out – her cries would only bring him back with fresh excitement in his eyes – and tried to flex her muscles as best she could, knowing that it might help to make the pain pass into numbness quicker; even if it intensified the prickling for a time. No longer concerned with lying still, she rolled onto her back. She flinched slightly as the warmer part of her body met with the unforgiving cold of the floor, and adjusted her hands – bound behind her neck and tethered to her hair – as best she could to avoid crushing her fingers any more than necessary.

She was still biting her lip, much harder than she’d realized, and now she could taste blood mingling with saliva on her tongue. Her cheeks burned faintly from the salted tracks of her tears, and her scalp still throbbed from his maniacal grip on her hair as he’d forced her to look into his grinning face. “You’ll thank me later for this lesson.”

The tingling-pinch in her extremities seemed to go on and on, but it was fading – becoming more bearable – and now she could feel the sting of the latest abrasions on her hands and feet.

These were all such minor discomforts in the face of the horrors she’d known.

She didn’t know how long this had been going on; she couldn’t know. In the beginning she’d tried to keep track of time, but every window was covered to block out the sun. Without light to judge the days by, darkness had just rolled together with darkness, resulting in a confusion of the senses. Whether she’d been there weeks or only days, she could no longer even begin to guess. Since the moments had begun to bleed together, she supposed time really didn’t matter much anymore. With her mind slipping away in an attempt to shield her from the worst of the pain and terror, soon – she knew – there’d soon be nothing left of the girl she’d been but an empty husk. The only bright spot left in her future was that glimmering moment when her consciousness would no longer be tethered to her flesh. She could drift in an eternity of dreams, or nothingness – it didn’t matter much to her either way, so long as she didn’t have to be here with him. An end to the suffering, an end to his lessons, an end to the pain; it wouldn’t be long now – reality’s hold on her was getting weaker and weaker all the time and soon it would lose its feeble grasp on her altogether.

In the beginning, she’d had hope, but – like her humanity – he’d carved it away in delicate strips…


She’d awoken on the bed disoriented, with a terrible pounding in her head. Her fingers had fluttered up to touch the base of her skull – the source, it seemed, of the pain – and had come away bloody. She’d gaped at the crimson smear on her fingers with growing unease; a frown crawling across her lips; and realized for the first time that she was not at home in her bed, but in alien surroundings. Warm orange light emanated from a small glass lamp on a chair beside the bed; not bright, but bright enough to keep the shadows at a distance.

She was vaguely aware of some rank odour drifting in the air, but this trivial detail seemed insignificant in the scope of the greater mystery.

She’d forced herself into a sitting position with her back against the headboard and struggled to keep her gorge down as the room began to spin. As her mind slowly began to clear, she surveyed her environment and felt the first seeds of fear blossoming in her chest.

It was a large space, mostly open but for the skeletal bare-wood framing that would dictate where rooms might someday go. The outer walls of the space appeared to be naked drywall, and the floor – for as far as she could see by the pale orange light – was exposed concrete. In the far left corner, mostly blanked in shadow, she could just barely make out the stark markings of a bathroom; a deep ceramic claw-foot tub, a toilet and a narrow pedestal sink; but though surrounded by more of that wooden framework, walls had yet to be fitted in place.

As she looked around herself; trying desperately to understand her predicament; she noted five separate, rectangular markings that stood out against the whiteness of the drywall. Each of these was covered in a thick black plastic sheeting of some kind, and it took her only a moment to realize that these were windows.

She noted a single door in the entire space. It was about forty feet away from where she sat on the bed; a simple white number with a standard looking knob; just beyond the embrace of the pale lighting. She noted too, a dark heap on the floor just to the side of the door, and something about this served to greatly unnerve her.   

Slowly – still struggling with wooziness – she slid her legs over the edge of the bed and pushed herself into a standing position. The room around her swayed, and she leaned against the mattress for support. After a moment she felt strong enough to sustain her own weight, and stood erect. She made her way across the room, taking small cautious steps, and pausing only once to lean against a frame and catch her breath. Just feet away from the door, her eyes went to the heap; a strange dark shape beneath a rough looking wool blanketed; and though she cautioned herself to ignore it – to keep moving, to get out – whatever was beneath the makeshift shroud seemed to call out to her.

Certain she would regret her curiosity – but unable to repress it – she went to kneel beside the mound. With a shaking hand she reached out and gingerly touched the coarse material. An internal voice was screaming at her to leave it alone; to go; but a desperate need to know what lay beneath the blanket moved her hand to pull it back and see.

As soon as the mystery was revealed, her fingers slipped away from the fabric and went fluttering to her mouth to stifle a scream. 

The girl’s face was a map of suffering. The entire right side was such a deep shade of purple it almost appeared to have been dyed, but the rings of yellow and green that scalloped the edges assured her it was bruising. There was so much dried blood matting the girl’s hair that it was impossible to tell what colour it had once been, and her nose was set at such an odd angle that it had likely been broken more than once.

Absolute panic flooded through her and she went scrambling on hands and knees towards the door. She reached up to take hold of the handle – to pull herself back to her feet – and the knob twisted beneath her fingers. Instinct drove her backwards, scrambling in a crab-walk across the cement as the door opened, and the man appeared.

“Aww,” he said sadly, clucking his tongue he entered. “I see you’ve met Amy.”

She didn’t want to – didn’t mean to – but she paused in her retreat and looked up into his face. Recognition hit her like a blow to the abdomen. 

He smiled at her as he came strolling across the threshold – pausing to close the door tightly behind him. He glanced at the battered girl with disinterest colouring his expression and said, “Don’t worry about her. She wasn’t a very good girl. She wasn’t smart like you… she refused to learn.” He kept coming, his smile widening. “Oh, but I know you’re the one… I know you’ll appreciate the lessons.”

{Image: ‘Bound’ – by Beverly Amah}

To be continued…

Part 2/3

Part 3/3

12 responses

  1. This is absolutely incredible, chilling writing. Amazing work.

    March 10, 2012 at 6:45 pm

    • Wow, thank you so much!!!

      March 10, 2012 at 6:46 pm

  2. oh wow! i mean like oh fuck! i mean wow!
    this is fantastic
    i cannot wait for part two
    disturbing and wonderfully told – i was there, feeling her pain and fear. damn, that’s good

    March 10, 2012 at 6:50 pm

    • sweet… I can stop holding my breath for a minute.
      If I haven’t told you yet today how much I adore you… I FREAKIN LUV YOU!

      March 10, 2012 at 6:54 pm

  3. Reblogged this on kylemew.com and commented:
    this is fantastic, can’t wait for the rest
    damn, this girl can tell a tale

    March 10, 2012 at 6:51 pm

  4. TheOthers1

    Wow! Very intense. You did an excellent job on this. I felt the character’s terror. Lovely work.

    March 10, 2012 at 8:55 pm

    • Thank you! Hopefully you enjoy the next two parts as much :p

      March 10, 2012 at 9:23 pm

  5. OMG OMG OMG OMG! SO AMAZING! You took my breath away. Come online soon and POST!!!!

    March 11, 2012 at 3:44 am

  6. Pingback: Awarded « kylemew.com

  7. Pingback: Ashes2Ashes – Part 2/3 « My Own Private Universe

  8. Pingback: Ashes2Ashes – Part 3/3 « My Own Private Universe

  9. Pingback: Ragged « My Own Private Universe

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