days of unbearable pain

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Chapter 5: days of unbearable pain

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The moment the car stops in front of a beautiful mansion, a group of men wearing fancy black suits and guns in their belts open the door for Althea.

Lucius waves her good bye with a fake smile plastered on his face as the men lead her inside.

They are ruthless, pushing her to walk faster not knowing—or caring—about her pained steps until she is shoved inside a spacious room with dark coloured walls, high ceilings and a broad canopy bed sitting against the wall.

She is locked inside that room for three days.

Three days full of fear and expectation of what would happen next. Three days she should have used to prepare for what was about to happen.

Only if she had known.

Once Diaz arrives back at the mansion he takes Althea like he did before. The blonde tries to resist, to run out of the room just to be met by two giant men. She learns that night how cruel Diaz can really be. Not being able to move alone for nine days.

She tried the door a couple times after, always unlucky to find it locked. Not that she would’ve found the courage to open it, too scared of the consequences.

During that time she also learns Lucius is the kindest person he has met in this vicious world.

Honestly, Althea can't think of a reason why or how he had been able to keep himself kind, thinking about the innocent eyes that he would look at her with when Diaz let him in the room, ordering him to clean her up.

The raven becomes her anchor. He was the only one who would help her walk to the shower, carrying her entirely when she couldn’t stand after a particularly rough time with Diaz; he would help her wash her hair when she couldn’t lift her arms over her head; he would talk to her all the while even if the blonde never answered; he would offer her distraction wrapped in comfort.

Being locked inside that asphyxiating room, Lucius is her only escape.

Althea always feels better when he walks through the door, a boxy smile plastered on his face and a warm hand carrying solace. She had decided to dump all her hope and trust on him. Not sure why or what that meant, Althea had done it anyways, hoping for the time she could see Lucius again.

Only if she had known.

Every day since became about waiting.

Waiting for Diaz to finish with her and waiting for Lucius to come back. It was about patience, about her ability to endure and ignore the thoughts hunting her.

She spends the longest on the floor, hating the smell of the bed, she sits near the window and imagines the feel of wind on her face. She also spends most of her time spacing out, thinking about the million things that had nothing to do with a certain cold eyed brunette.

Althea had been counting. Each day she would add a number to the endless tally of her life.

One day Diaz had said he was tired of hearing her, her high pitch screams turning him off so she would force herself to bite her lips harder and harder until she couldn’t hold them in anymore.

On day eleven she stopped screaming altogether, shrieks caught inside her throat by a crushing hand. As the pain demanded an outlet she choked on spit. She hated the way her throat hurt for days, black bruises on her neck sitting like a collar.

Diaz had praised her constantly, proud of seeing his mark on her.

“I own you whole, Althea,” he had said kissing her neck.

Since then the older found a new kink, one that made Althea pass out more often than not and would leave her sore for days unable to swallow properly. Not that she was eating much anyways.

She had been counting.

By day 27, Althea had lost so much weight she could count her ribs easily. Her once strong legs were now two mere sticks only strong enough to hold her up for a short period at a time. It was fine though, she sat through most of the days anyways.

On day 31, Diaz had left for business, leaving Althea trapped inside.

After four days of unbearable pain, she finds enough strength to take a bath. Althea does what she has been wanting to do for a long time now, she locks the door. It brings her such relief to know no one can come in that she allows herself to just relax and sit in there, gaze lost chasing nothing, until the scalding water goes frigid.

Except it backfires as she is dragged inside her own mind, finally able to listen her own screams.

The numbing temperature pushes Althea into uncontrollable shivers that she barely notices, too caught up in her nightmares—

No. Not nightmares, memories.

The shivers don’t stop though now she doesn't know anymore if she is trembling because of the cold or because of her pain. And just as that thought crosses her mind, she breaks.

It pools in her stomach first, slowly travelling up her throat with saltiness; the sorrow of a suffering heart. The feeling expands all over her chest with a certain warmth Althea never thought pain could have but it does and it warms her chest while a tremble surges from the back of her heart.

Every emotion she has been pushing aside, safely kept in a corner of her mind she never visits is shaken out of place.

All the pain. All the terror. All the sorrow.

She feels everything and it will destroy her if she doesn’t let it out.

So she does.

A surging scream takes over her, encasing the purest rage and the deathly agony of someone who can’t see an end to their suffering.

She cries and screams, until her eyes are dry and her voice is hoarse. Even then, she doesn’t stop.

****

Lucius comes check up on her, rambling about her being in there for more than four hours, refusing to leave the room until Althea opens the door.

Thus she forces herself out of the water, even when her muscles roar of soreness, even if a silent scream leaves her gaping air like a fish as the various scratch marks in her arms and chest make contact with the freezing air, even if all she wants to do is keep drowning.

Worried she could get sick, Lucius forces her to wear Diaz’s winter pyjamas before being shoved inside the heavy quilt. The pyjamas have a faint smell of flowers, another thing Althea would have never expected. Diaz seemed to have a whiskey smell lingering on him at all times. Being a mafia boss, flower scented detergent didn’t seem like something natural.

Left alone again, Althea lies on the bed absolutely exhausted. She feels drained of all energy and will to keep going, devoid of anything but the crushing weight of despair.

In order to keep herself away from her unforgiving mind, she focuses her vision on a spot in the ceiling challenging herself to go through all the dances she remembers, naming each step.

Once she can’t remember more dances she does the same again, this time remembering each one in reverse. The task helps her keep busy for hours she only knows have passed because of Lucius’s scheduled visits.

It is always the same, every third hour he creeps into the room looking at Althea as if he expected her to be dead, repeatedly breathing a sigh of relief the moment he confirms her chest is still moving.

He drops a tray with food near Althea, making sure to explain why this particular food is the most delicious as he takes the previous tray of untouched food as he leaves.

Althea ignores him, submerged in her little game to such extent, she misses a couple visits entirely, only realising they happened by the surprise of a new tray.

Going to the toilet is the only time she lets herself live in the real world and she hates it. Every time drinking less water which makes her breaks few and far apart, eager to spend the least amount of time possible not thinking about the next step in that one dance routine she performed years ago.

****

Althea wakes up covered in sweat with a strong arm holding her close. The blonde hasn’t slept properly in too long, hardly resting unless her exhaustion beats her like last night only to be awaken by the terrors hiding in her dreams.

Today is day 43. 43 days since the night she wishes she should have been shot in the head.

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TBC