What Goes Around, Comes Around

‘You’re mine,’ he grated, tearing away at her clothes. ‘I own you!’

‘Please… No,’ Debbie cried, but he rammed a hand over her mouth, slicing her lip open with a large silver ring with the moon's light glinting off it.

She tried to scream, but the city was empty. She'd worked late into the night again, and she knew no-one would hear her.

‘Shut the fuck up, whore,’ he growled, when she heard the moment he undid his belt.

Oh god, she thought, tears falling down her cheeks until it mingled with her blood. Please help me.

He dragged a hand up over her breasts, tearing a button from her shirt. He grabbed her by the throat, slammed her against the cool damp of a derelict brick wall. She’d always sensed a certain fear when she passed that alley, night or day... and that's all she did. She'd been walking past the alley on her way home. Just like she'd done hundreds of nights before.

She'd almost made it past. Had taken a deep breath and released a sigh of relief... that's when he grabbed her.

She hoped against hope the clang of old garbage cans rolling around the alley would alert someone, anyone, but still. Deep down, she knew. The city was a sleep and the streets were empty, plus it was mid-week.

No-one will know, she thought as her hot tears washed over her burning cheeks.

She could barely hear the bin lids as they rumbled and raced over worn out tar and old gravel bedding, rhythmically beating in unison with her panicked heart. It was like a Snare drum being pounded on by a really bad garage band, and her screams only made him more aggressive.

‘Do ya think anyone’s gonna come an’ save ya? No-one's coming for you, you’re my little bitch now.’

Her eyes bulged, and she gasped for air as he gripped her throat, then a sort of relief moved through her when he loosened his grip. She was in an out of consciousness like a light not quite sitting in the bayonets. He'd take her to the edge of unconsciousness, then release, wait for her to take a breath, then do it again.

I’m going to die, Debbie thought, and with it came a sudden wave of acceptance. Like a sheet of cold water had washed over her body to make her numb. Just make it quick.

She'd become limp, had given herself permission to die, but then she heard coins falling to the ground and was wondering what was happening, when she felt the thick denim of his jeans scrape down her legs as they fell down around his ankles. He tore the last piece of tattered clothing from her body, picked her up by the throat, swung her around like a rag doll, bent her over a metal railing, and penetrated her.

The pain of his entry was unspeakable, and her screams rang out across the city. All hope was lost. She'd seen his face, and she knew there was no way he would let her go.

***

She didn't know it, but a group of late night revellers on their way home had heard her screams. They quickly followed them to that old alley. It was littered with bin lids and discarded food wrappings, both paper and plastic, and beer bottles.

Debbie screamed again, but it was more of a whimper, a surrender. She hadn’t heard them enter the alley, her heart was pounding in her ears. But there was something

Is that someone else? she thought through the pain, her terror, her tears, but she certain she heard voices.

At first they were faint, but they grew louder, and a spark of hope grew inside her, and with the last ounce of energy she screamed as loud as she could one last time.

Her attacker, also having heard the voices, slammed a fist into the right side of her head, and Debbie whimpered as she slumped over the railing. He pulled away, and suddenly she fell to the ground. She heard his footsteps as he ran, heard the other voices, and through her tears she saw a large crowd of people making their way towards her. They were kicking rubbish cans, grounding the gravel and a group of people ran past her.

'Help me, please,' she cried as she watched then run away.

She lay on the ground, semi-conscious, up against the old wall. Blood oozed from the side of her head where he'd hit her, and a sudden bright white light lit up, blinding her. Then there were more, and more. There were so many white lights, like stars in a black sky, and they lit up the dark of the alley.

"Are you all right?" someone said, and pulled her up into their arms. She wanted to fight, but when she opened her eyes, she saw the alley was actually lit up with mobile phones.

Some were taking video, others pictures, she heard someone calling 000. In her haze, she saw a group of men chasing her attacker.

Anya, a young woman celebrating her 21st birthday, sat on the hard ground and held Debbie in her arms. She rocked and cradled her, made her feel safe, shedding her own tears as Debbie's blood soaked into her jeans. The other women in the group circled them and kept watch. Anya’s tears fell over Debbie’s face, and she pulled her in tight, and repeatedly whispered.

‘It’s okay. You’re safe now, we’ll look after you. We won't leave you.’

Anya used the shake she’d built up in her own body, after seeing the last of the attack... knowing it could've been her, or anyone of her friends, to rock Debbie in her arms. To make her feel safe until Police and Ambulance arrived.

***

He started to come around, images of what he’d done were swimming in his head, and for a moment he thought he was still in that alley, then suddenly he was thrown over a large, burning hot pipe, his pants were down around his ankles.

What the? He thought, then recalled the court case, the witnesses, the jail cell, the laundry room where no-one can hear you scream. He also remembered the two giant men that were holding him down. Another prepared to penetrate him... again.

One after the other, over and over, three men took him for the ride of their lives. Night after night his screams went unanswered. One man held him by the throat, taking him to the edge of unconsciousness and back again, waiting until he was fully aware, before another took their turn. His pain, his terror would last a lifetime, always in darkness.

Seated on a wood slated bench just outside the room was a man. He knew he was there, but never saw his face. Every night, that man would watch as he was violated. Every night that man, his tormentor, would watch from the darkness. He could only ever make out his smile, and he knew the man took great pleasure in his night terror.

Once he’d watched his fill, he would stand and walk to the door with a skip in his step, making a set of keys jingle like small bells. When the three men had taken him to the edge of death, the one watching would near.

The jingling keys kept Ralph on his toes. Every day, he was sent to the yard, but kept his back to the wall. He was terrified all the time. Their sound had infiltrated his thoughts, his nightmares, but that night their warped and deadly song grew louder. That night, he made himself known. After three months into a twenty-year sentence, he finally saw the face of his tormentor.

He stood before the broken man, on his knees and being held up by two of his attackers. Bending down, the man reached out and cupped Ralph’s bloodied and broken jaw. He twisted his head and looked deep into his eyes, then whispered in his ear.

‘Take hold of the bars, sweetheart,’ Jason Matis, warden at Skyfeld Penitentiary, whispered. ‘I own your arse, and the things you did to my daughter, well… let’s just say, they will pale by comparison with what I'll do to you every night for the rest of your miserable existence," he said and started to walk away, but stopped and said, "Oh. If you think anyone's gonna save you? Think again. No-one's coming for you, whore, an’ I’m gonna pass you around like a piñata at a children's party."

Ralph’s eyes widened. Realisation set in, and his terror magnified tenfold. His mouth went dry and a sick feeling rose from the pit of his stomach.

"So, lather up, sweetheart, 'cause you’re my little bitch now,’ warden Matis said. "I’m off for the night. Just throw him back in his cell when you’re finished with him."

Ralph watched the warden's black shining shoes walk away, heard the sound of those key's song fade into the distance, then screamed a blood-curdling scream as another inmate took his turn.

‘Just don’t kill him,’ the warden called back.

Jason Matis, warden at Skyfeld Penitentiary, unlocked the door to the outside world. He was going home to his wife and daughter. They's share a nice glass of red, and after barring all the windows in the house, after setting up camera's, motion detectors and light sensors, Debbie had begun to go a night or two without screaming.