Warning, this story is about rape, and while fictional, may have triggers. This is the link to Australia’s Rape and Domestic Abuse Hotline, please stop reading here if you think this story might affect you, and don’t be shy about contacting the hotline for help and support.
‘You’re mine,’ he grated, tearing away at her clothes. ‘I own you!’
‘Please… No,’ Debbie cried, but he rammed a hand over her mouth, slicing her lip open in her front teeth, ‘don’t.’
Debbie tried screaming, but had worked late into the night. She knew no-one was around to hear her.
‘Shut the fuck up, whore,’ he whispered, then she heard him undo his belt.
Oh god, she thought, her tears falling down her cheeks, mingling with the blood from her lip. Please help me.
He dragged a hand up over her breasts, tearing a button off her shirt, then grabbed her by the throat. He slammed her against the cool damp of a derelict brick wall. She’d been walking past on her way home from work, and he’d grabbed her as she passed a short dark alley that always gave her the chills, but it was the fastest way home.
Debbie hoped against hope the clang of the old garbage cans he knocked over, and were rolling down the alley, would alert someone, but she knew how quiet the streets were at night, and her hopes quickly faded. The lids made so much noise, their race down the alley sounded like a Snare drum in a really bad garage band. They rolled down the slight hill of pea gravel and old tar, and still no-one came. She screamed again, but it only made him more aggressive.
‘Do ya think anyone’s gonna come an’ save ya? No-ones coming for you, you’re my little bitch now.’
The tears rolled, and her eyes bulged, and Debbie gasped for air when he tightened the grip around her throat, then loosened it off in rhythmic fashion, like a light not quite sitting in the bayonets right. He took Debbie to the edge of unconsciousness, then would release, and when she’d take a breath, he’d choke her again.
‘I’m going to die,’ Debbie thought, and a sudden wave of acceptance came over her like a sheet of cold water. ‘Just make it quick.’
She heard coins falling from his pockets as his jeans fell down around his ankles, and he tore the last piece of torn and tattered clothing from her body. He picked her up by the throat, swung her around like a rag doll, bent her over a metal railing, and penetrated her.
The pain of his entry was unspeakable, and her screams rang out across a sleeping city, before finally alerting a group of late night revelers on their way home to her plight. They followed the screams to the alley, littered with bin lids and old food wraps, both paper and plastic. Then they heard her scream again, but it was more of a whimper, a surrender.
Debbie hadn’t heard the revelers, and had reconciled herself to her fate, but through the pain, the terror, the tears she thought she heard voices. They were faint, but grew louder and hope began to grow within her again. She used the last of her strength, and screamed as loud as she could.
Her attacker also heard the voices approaching, and slammed a king hit to the right side of her head. Debbie whimpered and slumped over the railing as he pulled away and started to run. She heard male voices, and through her tears thought she saw a large crowd of people moving towards her, kicking away rubbish cans as they ran up the small incline. She fell to the ground hard, and lay semi conscious, against the old wall.
Blood oozed from the side of her head, and her attacker ran away when the dark alley lit up with mobile phone screens. Some took video, others took pictures, one called 000. The men in the group men chased her attacker, but lost him.
Anya, a young woman, sat on the hard ground, and the blood from the attack soaked into her jeans. She picked Debbie up by her shoulders, pulled her across her legs, and cradled her in her arms. The other women circled around them and kept watch. Anya’s tears fell to Debbie’s face and she she pulled her in tight, and whispered in her ear.
‘It’s okay. You’re safe now, we’ll look after you,’ Anya said, and used the shake she’d built up in her own body to rock Debbie in er arms to make her feel safe until Police and Ambulance arrived.
He started to come around, images of what he’d done were swimming in his head, and for a moment he thought he was still in that alley, then suddenly he was thrown over over a large, burning hot pipe, and his pants were down around his ankles.
What the? he thought, then recalled the court case, the witnesses, the gaol cell, the laundry room, where no-one can hear you scream, as two giant men held him down, while another prepared to penetrate him.
One after the other, over and over again, three men took him for the ride of their lives. His screams of pain went unanswered night after night. One man would hold his throat, bringing him in and out of consciousness, then wait until he was fully aware, before the other men took their turn to maintain his pain, his terror.
Their overseer, his tormentor, always watching from the darkness, and he could only ever make out his smile. He was extremely pleased by his nightly terror. He’d watch on until his tormentor had enough. Then he stand and walk to the pipe with a skip in his step, a set of keys jingling like small bells rang out as he neared.
That sound kept Ralph awake at night, aware everyday, and terrified all the time. It’d infiltrate his thoughts and nightmares, but that night their warped and deadly song grew louder. That night his tormentor walked up to him.
Bending down, he reached to cup Ralph’s bloodied and broken jaw, twisted his head, looked deep into his eyes, and whispered in his ear.
‘Take hold of the bars, sweetheart,’ Jason Matis, warden at Skyfeld penitentiary, whispered. ‘I own your arse now, and the things that you did to my daughter, well… let’s just say, they will pale by comparison to what will happen to you every night for the rest of your miserable existence, and if you think anyone is going to come and save you… you’re wrong, no-ones coming for you, whore, an’ I’m gonna pass you around like a pinata at a kids party.’
Ralph’s eyes widened in terror, he mouth became dry and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach had become his new normal.
‘So, lather up, sweetheart, cause you’re my little bitch now,’ Jason said. I’m off. Just throw him back in his cell when you’re finished with him.’
Ralph saw Jason’s black shining shoes walk away, heard the sound of those keys fade into the distance, then screamed an almighty scream as another inmate took his turn.
‘Just don’t kill him,’ Jason called back.
Jason unlocked the door to the outside world.
‘Just don’t kill him,’ he whispered.