Page 36 of Red Waters

Invasions and Intentions

The beautifully diluted water Yury and I had created one meaningful night was now being irrevocably poisoned. And I was drowning in the filth, pollution, and wreckage my life had become. Happily Ever Afters don’t happen for everyone. Especially for victims of this violent crime in the sexual servitude industry.

Yury had told me I would be set free someday. Now, I was quite positive that freedom had been taken away. Even if I were to have a life again, where would I go? How would I ever overcome such ruthlessness? Who would ever want what was left of who I once was?

Standing in the chamber I refused to call home, I stood there, lost and abandoned. Two young men removed their clothing, ogling me as if I had only one purpose. There was no sympathy in my captivity, only greed. Greed from the ones who took… And the ones who accepted the highest bid.

As the predators approached, hungry for a kill, I thought about the man who had returned to his wicked ways. The betrayal of Yury’s actions stung so deep I wasn’t able to move. A trust had been built between us, yet he dismissed it so easily. It was the deceit of another that had broken us both that day. Simply put, loving Yury had consequences; the deadly to my spirit and soul kind.

Mercifully, my mind drifted away as I was laid down on the dirty mattress, my legs spread apart. My body wasn’t so lucky. She was violated and abused, reminded that all of Master’s training had turned her into the perfect perverted toy. Her breast shook after every palm smack to the sensitive tissue. Her cheeks flushed as pain bloomed through her. Another crack in her heart was created with every laugh the young men experienced during each and every forced act. Tears dripped down her face as the involuntary orgasm erupted. The tears were ignored by the assailants because the vile entertainment was far more exciting.

Selfish pleasure conquered humanity.

Firepaid the price.

When they were finally done and left the room, I mentally returned, instantly feeling the frigid air sticking to the fluid all over my body. I didn’t jolt in fear when they momentarily returned with a bucket of water so I could clean myself. I didn’t cry when they left, laughing at the sight of me—their personal playground.

Sore all over, I slowly sat up, begging my body to become mine again. Reaching into the bucket I found no cloth to wipe my soiled skin. As depressing as that was, it didn’t compare to the water being… cold. There was no give and take. The rapists had only taken… And, apparently, felt I deserved not one ounce of decency.

I thought of all the women and men, girls and boys living this treatment daily. All by force. Whether or not they had been kidnapped or tricked into this gruesome cycle, the result is the same. A damaged soul, wondering if she or he has any value left.

It was most likely a state of shock I was in as I moved to clean myself, but I can’t recall instructing my body to do so. It just did. It took over, trying to survive as my mind drifted in and out of a numbness I needed to keep breathing. The attackers were gone, but their remanents and tragic actions remained.

Yury’s actions haunted me also… “I am not your master anymore.”

Standing in a corner, freezing and naked, my hands reached up and unbuckled the collar around my neck. I was hoping the defiance would get me killed. Suicide had never been so appealing. I even peered around the room, searching for an object I could use to slice my wrists. Now, I understood the protection around the lighting. They didn’t want us breaking the bulb, using any broken part to leave this hell on earth.

I went to throw my collar in the toilet only to notice it had been removed. Still attempting to be defiant, I instead threw the collar in the pee bucket only to see it had been used. Appalled that another slave had already been trapped in the same room, I backed away. It was as if I could hear the pleas for help that never came. When the back of my legs touched the mattress, I spun around, and again began to retreat. I could hear the grunts the men made when finding pleasure in someone else’s misery. Had I just been raped where someone else was tortured? It was like being surrounding by knives. Everywhere I stepped, I received a painful slice.

Wrapping arms around myself, I cried out, “Link” desperate for the wholesome affection he had always offered, unconditionally.

I didn’t want to be near the bed—the crime scene. I didn’t want to sit on the floor that circled a drain used to dismiss vile actions. So, I leaned against the wall to stay on my feet, pitifully calling out to my friend, “Link.” After closing my eyes, my hands searched for him along the cold blocks. “I need you.”

I was finally beyond all the reserves my mental health once had. That was it. I was done.

Maybe it was God’s intervention, but I suddenly heard Link’s voice. In the distance, he was singing. I cried at the sound of his voice and the meaning of the lyrics. It was the same song Crash and I had our first couple’s skate to, and it was the song Link was singing in his dorm shower on the threatening video Yury had shown me. “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper.

Desperate to be near the young men I had adored when they were in my life, I started singing the lyrics about how they would be there for me—we would be there for each other. Sliding along the wall, back and forth, eyes still closed, I visualized Crash holding my hand as we laughed and skated during the 80s night. Ford and Harlan were there. Even Constance, and she was glowing. Link was in the background, watching me, love in his stare.

“Link.”

In my mind, the song started again so I sang…

Walking along the walls of my captivity, I saw Link gliding through the blue waters. As I sung, he dove deeper to swim. I couldn’t see him but sensed him getting closer and closer, picking up speed. When he surfaced, Link was now my brother. I instantly starting howling in pain. “Timothy. Please, help me. Please.”

He sounded so calm, as if everything was as it should be and I simply needed to accept fate. “Don’t you give up, my Little T. Fight. He’s waiting for you here. He always will.”

I gasped through explosive tears as Link’s blog videos blasted through my mind. His words shouted a message to my dying heart, “And I always will.”

Over and over, I slammed my hand against my chest. “Link… Link… Please...” Just like I had sacrificed my body to protect his, I now knew I had to live for him, too. He lost his brother. I needed to keep fighting so he wouldn’t lose me to the same man. It was the determination needed when hands grabbed onto my shoulders. Without looking, I went ballistic. I wasn’t going to be raped one more time without a fight. My mind had been made up. I was, somehow-someway, going to dive into those fucking blue waters and into Link’s arms, once more.

“Stop. Stop…”

Recognizing the voice, I slowed my swings and opened my eyes.

Yury.

His expression was one of a mad man. Yury had found his limit, too. In his hand was the note. He had found it… too late. The white paper was now splattered with blood, as were his clothes and face. “I didn’t write this.”