3. Year Two

I'm starting to lose hope that no one is coming for me.

You know how you can feel it inside your heart and soul when something is off? I feel that in mine. I know they aren't coming for me but I can't give up. The moment I do, they have won and I can never fucking allow that.

It's been two years, two fucking years of this hell and I want to die. I want it all to fucking stop and no longer exist, I fucking hate it. How the fuck can people go to church every Sunday and praise God. If there is a fucking God, why would he allow this to happen to me?

I'm starting to learn that fighting gets me nowhere. If I just give in and let them have me, they leave me quicker and don't hurt me as much. Mike and Tom are different, they love it when I fight them, they enjoy the fire inside as they call it.

"Come on, Doxy, fight. You know how I fucking like it," Mike shouts and I flinch when he punches me and my head smacks against the concrete wall. I fall to the ground and curl into a ball. Master still watches and regardless of what they like from me, Master will punish me if I don't obey him. I must always obey him and no one else, he is the one with the power here not them and definitely not me. Their beatings may hurt but his are worse, he gets off on tearing my skin open and making me bleed. "Fucking bitch," he roars as he spits in my face and stomps on my leg. I scream out in pain when I feel a distinct crack.

He broke my leg.

Before the haze of pain can even clear, I'm dragged to my feet by my hair. I scream out when I'm thrown face first against the wall. I almost pass out when my wrists are shackled to the wall and they yank on my legs, securing them to the chains on the floor. I go lax in the restraints, my arms taking the brunt of my weight. I know what this means, I fucked up and cried out so now I'll be punished.

The pain in my leg is nowhere near as painful as what is about to come. I tremble when I hear the whip crack, he does this every time and each time a sick laugh escapes him. This is what he loves, he thrives off my pain, it gets him hard watching my skin tear open and seeing me bleed. No matter how I try to brace myself for these punishments or try to force my mind to a happy place, the bite of his whip always draws me back to the present.

"Oh, I love it when you misbehave and I get to remind you what happens. Master isn't happy with you, Doxy."

My bottom lip trembles. "I-I'm sorry—" My words cut off when the first snap of the whip tears across my back, the unhealed skin splitting instantly and I become dizzy with pain.

"Take it and start counting or I won't stop," Master snarls as he cracks the whip again and again and again, until I finally pass out from the pain after shouting twenty, the amount of lashes I just received. I relish the moments I black out because I feel nothing, I just fucking wish I never woke up!