Dragon Ring

I sat, shaken and breathing heavily as my vision cleared. I waited and then felt the blood tickling my lips. I stared into the darkness, waiting for another blow, but it never came. I blinked a few times, hoping to stop the tears, if only for a moment.

"Hello?" I whispered, hoarsely, my voice smaller than I intended. "Where are you??"

The man in the white sweatshirt was no longer in front of me. I was, for that moment, relieved of the metal dragon ring on his middle finger making contact with the tender flesh of my face.

I held my breath for a few short seconds to make sure I was really alone. I thought that just maybe I was. I let out a large breath and leaned back in the wooden chair, hoping to get comfortable. But the rope was tied too tight.

I thought of all the horrible things I had dealt with here. I had been in this room so many times. I could never tell if it were night or day because it was always dark. All I could ever see was the white sweatshirt with the blood stain on the left shoulder and that dragon ring. Before I could ever see anything else, he would hurt me. Fists, knives, rocks, fire, you name it. I had felt every pain imaginable. I can't remember, but I'm sure he bit me once. Just long enough to draw blood.

I would leave the room when he was done. When he was satisfied. I knew exactly what my purpose here was. He found joy in hurting others, and it was my responsibility to satisfy him. I understand that it's sick, but what am I supposed to do? Fight back? No. I can't do anything about this. I've been weak my entire life. I'm known for my extraordinary ability to cower in fear. And I hate myself for it. I sat in silence. And continued thinking. He will come back, I thought. It will get worse. I don't know how, but he will find a way to tear me farther apart.

A silent tear ran down my cheek. How have I not gone insane yet? I mean, I'm forced to get hurt in the worst ways and then sit here and think about what comes next. Why do I have to go through this? I don't deserve it!

I suddenly stopped thinking, and my breath hitched in my throat. I felt breathing on my neck. He was behind me. I shivered when I felt cold, sharp metal trace my spine gently. Suddenly, the dark shadows in the room grew taller and crept towards me. Space became bigger and colder. I felt my blood go cold with a kind of fear I never thought I'd feel in my entire lifetime. My face fell as I almost choked on my own spit. I always see him before he strikes. But now he's behind me.

And I can't see him.

Suddenly, without warning, I felt something plunge deep into the small of my back. A burn worse than fire spread through my back all the way to every corner of my body. My screams echoed through the long, empty room until they were silenced and overpowered by the laugh of the psychopath behind me, drenched in my hot burning blood.

“NO!!!!” I screamed as I fell out of my bed and onto the hardwood floor. Reality; always striking in the most painful ways.

“Ow…” I groaned, reaching up to rub my aching head, that slammed hard on the ground only a few seconds before. I shook my head in both frustration and relief.

Nothing better than the good old reality check.