Warmth

The breeze flows through my hair, passing my skin, leaving goosebumps all down my arms. The ocean waves crash on the shore, clapping to the songs that the seagulls sing. Their songs sound like lullabies echoing in the wind. The kids' playful screams fill our ears, and all we can do is smile and giggle. Everything that we have ever dreamt of happening, is happening right in front us, being seen with our own eyes. The sand flies in our food, over the sandwiches and the assortment of fruits. Your hands reaches for my thigh, looking at me with your wide grin. Your eyes, dark brown, but the sky allows them to glow and shimmer into a golden beauty.

Almost as perfect as a dream. A dream. What it was.

The hard, cold ground beneath me. The dirt over my arms. nothing like the sand. Bruises covering my stomach and legs. Loud bangs echoes throughout the room as the door swings open. “Oh and look at that, the bitch is awake.” As he kicks my side.

I can’t make out any of the faces, but two sets of feet in front of me. They walk towards a counter; I hear klinking. I can barely fucking see two feet in front of me.

“What the hell do you want from me?” Choking on my words, my hair gets pulled, hard from the root. He laughs, loud, echoing. Then he stops. His hand slides from my roots to the bottom of my chin, pulling me close to his ear.. “you.”

My head drops. He gives his friend a look, signaling for him to leave. As he does so, he makes sure to kick some dirt to my face, again. The loud clanking echoes through the room, the lock clicking as if we’re being locked in.

“Hello Alena. Or do you want me to call you Ally?” He says, smirking. Uncomfortably.

“Yo-you c-c-call me Al-ena.” The coldness of the room finally hits me. Trying to move to cover my legs, I don't feel anything. “Where the fu-fuck are my clothes?” trying to demand a response.

Shaking his head, he stands. “I said what I said. I want you. All of you. Alena.” The way he says my name makes me sick to my stomach. Alena. I hate it.

“So, tell me about yourself, yeah?” He walks back to the counter and pulls out a cutting knife. As he’s walking back towards me, he plays with the sharpest corner on his finger, dark red starts to surround the blade, but not enough to cause alarm. “You can speak, can’t you?” Mocking my silence.

“No.” Barely being able to speak whilst my entire body hurts.

“Oh? And she thinks she has the power here? A weak, little girl thinks she has power over me? Does she think she can say no to me?!” Raising his voice in every word.

He grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling me to a stand. He puts the knife in his mouth to grab a pair of handcuffs from his belt hoop, throwing my hands together, locking me to a pipe.

“You better think again, Alena!.” Grabbing the knife, holding it in a firm grasp. His hand against my throat, the other pushing the knife on my stomach.

Wincing from the sharp pain, “I’m sorry-“ he stops me with a hard, cold slap.

“It’s too late.” As he slices my stomach diagonally.

Screaming echoes, bouncing off the walls, falling back into our eardrums.

The pain is excruciating, filling the room. He then suddenly stops. As if he can feel what I am feeling under his hand. “I’m sorry Alena, we got off on the wrong foot.” He chuckles as if this whole thing didn’t happen, as if it’s normal for him? Looking down my stomach cries of a red, warm liquid, spilling onto the rest of my bare and cold body. The blood dripping onto the floor, forming a small puddle.

“My bad about the mess.” He says, smiling. His teeth unreasonably white, perfect shape, the only flaw; a gap in between his two front teeth. Something he wouldn’t look like himself without, it’s a part of him.

He slowly moved forward, resting his hand covered in my blood, on my face, almost looking sympathetic but clearly doing it for show. “Why-umumhm” I try to talk, but I’m choking on my own blood and words, the pain flashing in and out. Barely being able to stand on my own, I try to prompt myself up, but my feet slip from underneath, only being held up by the handcuffs hugging my wrists.

“What do you think you're going to do,” he pauses, looking me up and down, his gaze lingering. “Keep trying.”

Keep trying. Keep trying to what, live? He moves closer, but this time he's gentle. His hands move to my face, making me look into his eyes. His blue eyes, i never saw them before, but with my vision now clear, his eyes are mesmerizing. His hand warms my face, “What did I say?” his eyes harden, muscles tense.

I try to speak, but my voice abandoned me the moment I needed her. He chuckles as he draws his hand back in, leaving my face cold, and bare. My body falls limp again, but tugging my upper limbs by the handcuffs. He walks back to his counter, but now from above, I can finally see what’s on there. The knife he just stabbed me with. Keys. A camera. A gun. A matte black gun, sitting almost directly in front of him. His hand lingers above the weapon, but quickly moves to the keys. He walks quickly back over to me, and gently uncuffs me from the pipes. I fall to the ground, which is only two feet, but feels like hundreds with the force that hit my body.

I wrap around myself, concealing my stomach from him, as if my new open wound needs to be protected. He stands where he was before, just watching. Watching my every move.

“What do you want?” I repeat my question from earlier. He still just stares. Not blinking. Not moving. Just watching. Forgetting I was bare, I uncurl myself, covering my other parts of my body, wishing for some warmth again. He kneels down, his hand on my lower leg, still remaining eye contact, “I said what I said. I want you, Ally.”

All I want is you. I don’t even know who this man is but all I know is that he scares me shitless, but also warms me inside in a way I’ve never felt.