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Five
When I finally woke up, my wrists and ankles were bound with those plastic cable ties. Every time I wriggled around, the ties gouged into my skin, causing me to wince. Blood seeped around the edges of both, and the pain was excruciating. I had to hold myself as still as possible. Duct tape was not only covering my mouth, but the dude had wrapped it around my head too. And my head. It felt like it had been used as a bowling ball for a weekend tourney. The room I was in was cramped, a closet perhaps. It was difficult to tell since I couldn’t see a thing, but I knew it was tiny because it wasn’t possible to straighten my legs.
Every muscle and bone in my body screamed. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. The pain was bad, but the fear was worse. I was terrified. Heart-pounding and gut-wrenching scared.
What seemed like days, the door scraped open and I blinked rapidly due to the sudden brightness. A man wearing a ski mask appeared in front of me. He reached for my arms and pulled me to my feet. My body was stiff from sitting in that scrunched-up position that I moaned when he moved me.
“You can save your moaning for later because there’ll be lots of it where we’re going.”
There were dozens of questions I wanted to ask, but the tape covering my mouth prevented it.
He blindfolded me and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The pain was agonizing and I wondered how long I could endure this movement. Soon, I heard another door opening. Then he tossed me down on what must have been a bed. Panic washed over me again because I figured where this was headed. Hands tore at my clothes and cool air hit my naked skin.
Then someone said, “Don’t tear her clothes. We need to dress her back up, you idiot.”
There was more than one person here. I heard laughter as he slid my pants down to my ankles and pulled off my shirt. Terror paralyzed me as hands groped me everywhere. I was bruised all over from the beatdown earlier. Whenever they touched me, I winced. Tears gushed out of my eyes, but I tried to bow off the bed and fight as best as I could. It only earned me more punches. I prayed they would knock me out so I didn’t have to experience this in a conscious state, but they must have known my intentions because the one who carried me here said, “Don’t knock her out. Fucking a zombie isn’t what I’m after.”
That brought down the house. There was knee slapping and hoots, but there wasn’t much talk. The room reeked of beer and alcohol, indicating they were all drunk. That could work against me. If the alcohol prevented them from performing, they might take it out on me. One of them repeating, “Don’t kill her. I don’t want to go to jail.”
Another one answered, “Shut up, chickenshit.” Then I heard more scuffling.
Who were these guys and why were they doing this, I kept asking myself. I had never done anything I could think of that would warrant this kind of behavior from someone. I wasn’t cruel or mean-spirited in any way. But I was about to be raped by God only knew how many men. Maybe this was God’s way of punishing me for my sordid behavior. Maybe this was my payback. Whatever it was, I wanted it to be over. I fought and squirmed and wriggled around. I knew they would have to cut those ties that bound my ankles to get my pants off the rest of the way and spread my legs. Cooperating with them was not going to be a part of my plan. They’d have to kill me to get what they wanted. Being a slut was one thing. Getting raped was another. I wouldn’t let them have this part of me without the fight of my life.
When that cable tie snapped, my mind went along with it. My legs went batshit crazy, as my adrenaline spiked. I kicked everything and anything within reach. Everyone started shouting. They tried to get a hold of my ankles, but they were drunk and uncoordinated, and for once, I had sobriety on my side. If only I could get up, I could make a break for it. My hands were useless, I was outnumbered, but I wasn’t giving up.
I heard a bunch of scrambling and the door opened again. Then someone knocked me in the head, and everything started to swim. Another loud voice boomed, “What the fuck’s going on in here?”
I was out of it and couldn’t process anything. I must’ve passed out again because the next thing I knew I was being jostled around in the back of a van. We must have been driving on a road full of potholes. The first thing that came to mind was that they were going to kill me and dump my body. I started to struggle again, or at least I tried. There wasn’t any part of my body that didn’t hurt excruciatingly by now and the weakness that settled in was debilitating. My attempts were feeble at best. Someone cuffed me on the head, and everything went black again.
* * *
Voices. I heard voices in the distance. At least that’s what I thought at first.
“Miss, can you hear me? Miss? Call 911. Hurry. She’s hurt really bad.”
I wanted to answer him, but my mouth wouldn’t work. My brain understood what he was saying, but there was a disconnect happening. I also wanted to tell him how bad I hurt. Everywhere. I passed out again.
The next time I woke up, red flashing lights were everywhere. Paramedics surrounded me and were attaching all kinds of things to me. They finally cut the duct tape off my mouth, and I screamed.
“Miss, it’s okay. We’re on the way to the hospital now.”
They fastened some kind of neck brace around me and then placed me on a board. I was transferred onto one of the ambulance beds, and they slid me in the vehicle and off we went with sirens blaring.
Since it was dark, I begged them to keep the lights on inside. There was one female paramedic, and she held my hand, assuring me they wouldn't turn them off. I couldn’t bear to think of being in a small dark space. We arrived at the emergency department of the City Medical College and things moved with lightning speed. The doctors explained I had a small skull fracture but no brain swelling. I also had other injuries, including a broken wrist and ankle, four fractured ribs, and two stab wounds in the side, along with a ruptured spleen that would require surgery. They were preparing the OR, and I was waiting to be wheeled in when Pearce showed up by my bedside in his scrubs.
“How’re you feeling? I know it’s a lame question.” His voice was soft and comforting.
“I’m not sure,” I answered in a low, shaking voice. “I hurt. Everywhere. Bad.”
“I know. They gave you something and you should feel it soon. Alexia, I’m on call but I turned your case over to another trauma surgeon. Under the circumstances, I thought it best I didn’t do your procedure. I’m scrubbing in though, if that’s okay with you.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” I answered. I was befuddled by everything; I barely knew my own name. My head felt like someone was driving a spike through the side that I couldn’t think straight.
He smiled and I wanted to smile back but I couldn’t because the pain was too severe, not to add I was shaking all over. “It means I’ll be in the operating room, but I won’t be doing the surgery. If you don’t want me in there, just say the word. My feelings won’t be hurt, Alexia.”
“No, it’s okay,” I mumbled. My teeth were chattering.
He pulled my blanket up and tucked it around me. “You’re in shock and it’s making you shiver. I’ve looked at all your tests and you’re going to be fine, Alexia. Understand? They’re going to get you all fixed up. I promise.”
