Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 50
This week's photo prompt is from German photographer, Amelie Satzger. She has a collection of photos over on 500px.
WARNING: My tale is a disturbing one. It is not for the faint hearted - but it does end with hope. It is inspired by a true story I read a few year ago about a woman who survived being sex trafficked. It's what I thought of when I first saw this picture. Yes, I know, my mind can get very dark. Sometimes it's best not to follow me down here.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
Freedom
She taps the crack in the glass, hoping it will get bigger, hoping it will open out and maybe a hole will form. If she breaks it completely she might have a chance. She looks round the room, but there is nothing there to help her; it’s empty apart from the blood stained mattress - her blood. She looks at it and feels the sore spots it came from. Sore spots she knows are going to be reopened soon.
If only there was some kind of implement, but they never leave anything. They bring what they use. She stops that thought there. She can’t think about it, she has to block it. If she thinks about it she will scream and cry and won’t be able to stop. She remembers what happened to the girl in the next room who did that. She wants to live. She wants to get out of here. She wants to return to her life. She wants to never go on a blind date again. Never meet someone that no one else knows. Never believe that after three dates they must be trustworthy. Was anyone even looking for her?
She hears a noise in the room next door. They brought in another girl last night. They’re breaking her in. Another one that doesn’t sound like she’ll survive long. She’s stronger than the others, but if she wasn’t strong she’d be dead - like the one they dragged past her room several days ago. They’d left her door open deliberately.
She thought back to the first time they left her door open. She’d tried to get out. Foolish. They played cat and mouse with her, giving her hope, then taking it away. She’s learnt. But it gave her a sense of the house: size, how many others and how many men using them.
This thought jolts her back into action. She taps harder on the crack - the sounds from next door motivating her. She hears the screaming start and then that guttural noise which tells her the new girl might not last long. She resists the tears and sick feeling in her stomach. She puts her upset into what she is doing.
She pushes the glass and the crack spreads. She keeps pressure on the centre point and more cracks appear. A small piece in the middle falls out. It tumbles. She knows she’s two storeys up. She knows this area hasn’t recovered from the civil war and most of the neighbouring houses are empty. She’s going to have to run a long way.
Her breath quickens, she’s created a hole as big as her head now. The noise from next door is covering the sound of the glass shifting. More pieces fall out. Her fingers are bleeding, but it’s nothing compared to the other wounds she has.
A larger piece falls out and smashes below. She holds her breath and waits. If they find this she’s not sure she’ll survive the punishment. She doesn’t hear footsteps; she only hears the grunts and torturous screams from next door.
She climbs out onto the windowsill. She sees a drainpipe next to the window. She shuffles to it, shards of glass embedding in her knees. She pulls at the pipe, it doesn’t move. She dares to put her weight on it. It holds. She starts moving down to the ground, until it is close enough to jump.
Her heart is in her throat, the noise of it hammering in her ears. She lands heavily. The shock makes her pause. She hears nothing but the wind. She stands, testing her legs - then she runs.
She convinces herself she can hear shouts and men running after her, but at every glance back she sees nothing. She runs through the empty streets past derelict houses. She wants to get on the other side of the hills behind the ruined town. She’d had weeks to work out a route from the window.
She reaches the hills and clambers up and over them, adrenaline still feeding her. She sees another town in the distance. She sees lights as dusk draws in. It’s populated. She’ll find sanctuary there. But for now she must stop and rest. She finds a cove hidden by trees. She pushes herself in it and sits, exhausted, shivers running through her as the fear loosens its grip. She’s free. And soon the others will be too.
WARNING: My tale is a disturbing one. It is not for the faint hearted - but it does end with hope. It is inspired by a true story I read a few year ago about a woman who survived being sex trafficked. It's what I thought of when I first saw this picture. Yes, I know, my mind can get very dark. Sometimes it's best not to follow me down here.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
Freedom
She taps the crack in the glass, hoping it will get bigger, hoping it will open out and maybe a hole will form. If she breaks it completely she might have a chance. She looks round the room, but there is nothing there to help her; it’s empty apart from the blood stained mattress - her blood. She looks at it and feels the sore spots it came from. Sore spots she knows are going to be reopened soon.
If only there was some kind of implement, but they never leave anything. They bring what they use. She stops that thought there. She can’t think about it, she has to block it. If she thinks about it she will scream and cry and won’t be able to stop. She remembers what happened to the girl in the next room who did that. She wants to live. She wants to get out of here. She wants to return to her life. She wants to never go on a blind date again. Never meet someone that no one else knows. Never believe that after three dates they must be trustworthy. Was anyone even looking for her?
She hears a noise in the room next door. They brought in another girl last night. They’re breaking her in. Another one that doesn’t sound like she’ll survive long. She’s stronger than the others, but if she wasn’t strong she’d be dead - like the one they dragged past her room several days ago. They’d left her door open deliberately.
She thought back to the first time they left her door open. She’d tried to get out. Foolish. They played cat and mouse with her, giving her hope, then taking it away. She’s learnt. But it gave her a sense of the house: size, how many others and how many men using them.
This thought jolts her back into action. She taps harder on the crack - the sounds from next door motivating her. She hears the screaming start and then that guttural noise which tells her the new girl might not last long. She resists the tears and sick feeling in her stomach. She puts her upset into what she is doing.
She pushes the glass and the crack spreads. She keeps pressure on the centre point and more cracks appear. A small piece in the middle falls out. It tumbles. She knows she’s two storeys up. She knows this area hasn’t recovered from the civil war and most of the neighbouring houses are empty. She’s going to have to run a long way.
Her breath quickens, she’s created a hole as big as her head now. The noise from next door is covering the sound of the glass shifting. More pieces fall out. Her fingers are bleeding, but it’s nothing compared to the other wounds she has.
A larger piece falls out and smashes below. She holds her breath and waits. If they find this she’s not sure she’ll survive the punishment. She doesn’t hear footsteps; she only hears the grunts and torturous screams from next door.
She climbs out onto the windowsill. She sees a drainpipe next to the window. She shuffles to it, shards of glass embedding in her knees. She pulls at the pipe, it doesn’t move. She dares to put her weight on it. It holds. She starts moving down to the ground, until it is close enough to jump.
Her heart is in her throat, the noise of it hammering in her ears. She lands heavily. The shock makes her pause. She hears nothing but the wind. She stands, testing her legs - then she runs.
She convinces herself she can hear shouts and men running after her, but at every glance back she sees nothing. She runs through the empty streets past derelict houses. She wants to get on the other side of the hills behind the ruined town. She’d had weeks to work out a route from the window.
She reaches the hills and clambers up and over them, adrenaline still feeding her. She sees another town in the distance. She sees lights as dusk draws in. It’s populated. She’ll find sanctuary there. But for now she must stop and rest. She finds a cove hidden by trees. She pushes herself in it and sits, exhausted, shivers running through her as the fear loosens its grip. She’s free. And soon the others will be too.
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