A Voice Split the Darkness
Something was happening. Kimberly Allen felt the pressure around her neck, as though a noose was getting tighter and tighter. She felt the pressing of thumbs and a faint sizzling sensation in her throat. She couldn’t fight back because her hands and feet were tied down. She was completely helpless.
Sweat poured down her face, broke over her thin jaw, and drained down her neck. Her hands were trembling and the veins popping up as she tried pulling against the constraints. She held her breath while trying to fight off the premature stages of death.
A voice split the darkness. “It will be over soon, and perhaps I will do you the honor of killing you quickly. I must be honest with you, I do enjoy slow deaths.”
“Please, do what you have to do to me, but let me go. Don’t kill me, I promise I won’t fight you. I have a family; I have a little boy who needs me.”
“I’ll think about it,” the voice replied calmly. “However, there is approximately a ninety five percent chance that you will not survive the rape.”
Desperate now, Kimberly Allen raised her voice. “I have a family who needs me, please.”
There was more pressure around her neck, less air. There was a faint movement around the room as if they were being watched. Kimberly Allen gritted her teeth as weakness flooded into her limbs.
She knew all reasoning went out the window, but if she could only see death coming, perhaps she could reason with it. Death doesn’t mutilate, or shock the body. It enters quietly and removes the soul away with gentle hands.
Then cold truth hit her square in the face. When death comes, it’s too late. Kimberly Allen misunderstood the role of a victim. There was no reasoning with a madman and there was nothing she could say that would stop him.
She bit her bottom lip until blood sprayed. As if to mock her fading hope and fan her fear, as the unwanted pressure between her legs began.
Her body rattled and howled in pain, as she slid far to the left before the constraints reminded her that she couldn’t move anymore. The violence just gnawed at her. She didn’t have to grab for balance no matter how much she shook, but she wished she could be anywhere else.
She was angry, but the anger left her face when she started to think of her family. She knew they would miss her and wondered if she’d miss them in death.
The darkness grunted like a pig, and she stared at him, her face numb, her hands cold, yet they were sweating so she clenched them. Her eyes narrowed making her seem incensed that she couldn’t stop the sick bastard.
He caught her hair in his hands and drew her face up until her mouth met his. She tasted blood, but it took her only a moment to realize it was her own, wrung from a bottom lip she had just punctured not to long ago.
In the aftermath of the rape, darkness would lay back as if there wasn’t a care in the world. Kimberly Allen was no longer angry. Her anger faded in the wake of another emotion, a much milder one. An emotion that would help her move on, accept death. That emotion was love.
She saw the dark shadows split aside and allow the light to enter. There in the light her family stood there. A smile stayed on her face when her little boy kept saying he loved her. Her husband held him close as if indicating he will protect him with his life. That moment filled her with warmth as she turned away and welcomed death with open arms.
© 2013 Frank Atanacio