Sink Into Darkness

Part One: The Note.

To Whomever finds this note,

My name is Libby Grace, I’m 17 and have been selected to become a Blood Maiden - something we were led to believe was only a myth; but it’s all true.

The Blood Maiden process was founded by a group of sexist, misogynistic government officials, as a means of population and prostitution control.

A Blood Maiden is a young woman, forcibly taken, trained, sold and made to be blood-fused to the highest bidder, always men. By law, Females are not entitled to own any property. Apparently this extends to our bodies, and even our own God-given children.

Once The Man purchases his Female, his blood is drawn and it is injected into the woman along with some type of serum that makes the girl completely compliant to her new Blood Master.

The blood transaction is followed with a government-issued chip, that’s placed inside a heart-shaped locket that’s been welded around the Blood Maiden’s neck and then fused shut. Once completed the Female is permanent property of her Blood Master.

I have already been equipped with the locket, currently empty until I am auctioned off.

I’m being held in a medium-sized, cold and damp concrete room with constant dim lighting, no windows and only one aged but solid wooden door built crudely into the centre of the stone wall.

I've been missing for what I can only assume to be roughly a month. I’m unsure of today’s date or time. I’m fed the same three meals daily, told when to go to sleep, wake up and how I’m supposed to act during the upcoming auction.

I am only provided with a thin blanket and a futon mattress wedged tightly in the moldy corner on the floor. My only outfit is a skimpy black dress my captor makes me wear 24/7.

I can tell by looking in my captor’s dark, sunken, insectile eyes, that his calm restraint and composure is growing dangerously thin and is being replaced by gruesome anticipation. This has me thinking my true Blood Maiden training, pleasing my Master and accepting punishment, will begin any day now.

He told me yesterday with a sickening, satisfied sneer on his wrinkling face, “Things are going to change, soon.” I’m scared. “Change” could mean rape, torture or anything in between so I’m working on a plan to escape before training begins.

I am shackled by the ankle to the floor, by a long thick rusty chain that gives me just enough distance to move around nearly the entire room just barely reaching the door.

I’ve tried to open it multiple times, my fingertips just brushing the cool, brass handle but honestly there would be no point, considering the shackle around my ankle.

So, instead of offensive action, I’ve decided to search the room for defensive means of escape, but I fear it’s useless. The only things at my disposal are my blanket, my futon mattress, the porcelain toilet and sink and this pen and paper he gave me to write down my vows to my new Master, but instead I wrote this note. Which is probably enough grounds for execution. So, I guess I’ll have to get creative…

“Sincerely Libby Grace”

Part Two: Execution.

I can hear my captor clumsily thumping down the wooden staircase, located just outside my door. I can imagine the sight of him in his filthy, faded blue jeans and old, tattered leather jacket, carrying my meal of bread, water and a couple protein bars as he smiles that hideously yellowed reptilian grin that he gives me every day while he watches me eat.

I quickly stuff my note under the mattress, slide the pen between my breasts and hurry to the toilet, where I take up the least defensive position possible as I patiently await his arrival. My chain clatters loudly across the concrete floor as I position it carefully and pretend to be going to the washroom.

I watch mutely as the round handle twists and the door slowly creaks open. A bright light in the distant hallway shines ominously behind my captor’s bald, greasy head as he steps limply into the room like I’ve seen him do a thousand times before. His beady, greedy eyes fall directly on me.

I let him look, allowing him to observe me one last time because I am about to put on one hell of a final performance.

“Come, eat,” his demanding, gravelly voice is deep but this man is no taller than five foot nine tops and probably only has twenty or so pounds on me.

I take into consideration that this cowardly man had to drug me to get me here against my will. This is a sure sign that he is incapable, or at least unsure of, his own physical ability to overpower me.

I remain sitting where I am and fain weakness while cowering and flinching away from him.

“I’m not hungry,” I lie depressingly with all of the pathetic, whininess I can muster.

“Libby come eat now, you’ll need all your energy for what I have planned for you today.”

I freeze at his words and let their meaning sink in. Blood Maiden training definitely starts today. I steel myself internally. Now is the only chance I’ll get. “I don’t want anything,” I say with genuine defeat while twisting away from him and straddling the toilet.

“If you don’t come here now Libby, I will have no choice but to get physical with you and I won’t make it pleasant for you girl. I’ve been given the OK to rough you up a little bit…”

“Fuck off and leave me alone, you disgusting, pathetic parasite!” I spit the words with all the disdain I can over my shoulder. I’m starting to shake with nervous anticipation and restrained adrenaline. Hopefully, he perceives my shaking as fear and anxiety, which I can and will use against him.

“You really want to start pushing it girl…?!” I can hear the annoyance and anger lacing his tone as he sighs, drops my lunch, along with the keys to both the door and my shackle, and begins his clumsy strut towards me. His dragging limp is pronounced and haunting across the cement floor. I grit my teeth as the scraping of his bum foot moves ever closer with every biting second.

“Its now or never,” I think to myself, “time to do some desperately stupid shit…” I let him close the last couple feet behind me, before I scream at the top of my lungs and spring into action. I grip one end of the toilet tank lid with both hands and lift it free.

I use my legs to squat up and add power to my strike, I twist my torso, extend my arms and bring the porcelain lid crashing down with all of the force I can produce. The lid collides hard with the top of my captor’s head, splitting his scalp wide open with an impact that jars my joints and sends intense, rippling vibrations through both of my hands, up my arms and into my shoulders.

He falls instantly to the floor, face-down with a high-pitched, animalistic wail, clutching at his gouged forehead. I stand completely still. I’m absolutely stunned by what I just did. But, there’s no time for hesitation; no room for error. He’s still moving, still breathing, so I need to keep on the attack.

I raise the lid overhead and bring it down a second time, aiming for his skull, but he avoids the blow and I completely miss my target. With a deafening impact, the tank lid collides with the floor and explodes in my hands. I jump back screaming as the porcelain shards fly in every direction like an angry, needling swarm of hornets.

“YOU LITTLE FUCKIN BITCH!!!”

Shit! Time for Plan B. I leap over his sluggish attempt at a punch and I land behind his crumpled figure. I grab a generous amount of my chain, quickly loop it into a circle and throw it over his bowed head, tightening it around his throat.

I flip over my captor’s back, fall to my side, grip one section of the chain with both hands and yank it tight, while rolling onto my back and extending my shackled foot against the wall.

My captor’s eyes bulge and his mouth gapes wide with comical, pained surprise as he struggles for air. I lock eyes with him and refuse to blink. I want him to know I no longer fear him or society's rules. He holds my gaze, narrows his eyes and begins tugging me towards him by the chain.

My muscles strain and I curse under my breath, panicking as the floor and broken porcelain slides under me in intermittent bursts. He’s stronger than I thought and if he gets me close enough to him I’ll be screwed...

The glass shards painfully grind and slice my back open as I desperately try to resist my captor’s resilient pull. Inch-by-inch I am yanked closer to him; inch-by-inch my chances of survival decrease, so I need to act quickly.

I abruptly release the chain and swiftly reach into my cleavage, where I pull out my last and final resort: the lidless pen.

My captor sways backward uncontrollably due to the sudden release of resistance and I use this opportunity of surprise, to lunge forward and skewer the pen straight through the centre of my captor’s right eye.

His mouth opens in a silent scream and he stumbles back against the far wall. Both sets of scrambling fingers clutching at his blood-streaming face.

I dive to the left, wince as I hit the floor and reach for the keys that’ll release me from this hell. As my fingers clamp around the key ring, my captor lands on top of my already damaged back and starts furiously raining punches on me.

Solid, crippling impacts shower my entire upper body, colliding with my back, spine, shoulders and skull. My face bounces several times off the floor with every head punch. I feel my nose break and lips split.

I am purely running on instinct and adrenaline now. I arch my lower back, throwing him off balance. One of his hands lands next to me stabilizing him as I throw an elbow back to where I think his face is. Satisfaction runs through my veins as I connect with something soft, his throat I think, and he chokes, coughing as he temporarily lets his guard down.

I squirm under him and roll to my back while throwing my arms up to protect my face. His next punch is a right hook. I use both my arms to bat his fist to the left, using his own downward momentum to throw him off balance once again.

I buck my hips and heave him off of me. He hits the floor hard and rolls to his knees. I'm already sitting up. Pointing to his crimson face I say, matter-of-factly, “You should’ve taken that out...”

His expression distorts into ugly confusion just before I send a palm strike directly into his right eye, launching the full-length of the pen straight through the socket and into his brain.

My captor stiffens, spasms and falls limply to his back landing with a hollow thump on the floor. His body twitches and convulses for several seconds, before going completely still. I wait a couple long minutes to make sure he’s truly dead, then I clumsily reach for the set of keys next to me.

The corners of my broken lips twist up in a weak smile and my eyes begin to water as adrenaline starts to fade and is replaced quickly by excruciating pain and overwhelming emotions. I’ll finally be free. I give one last hitching breath before I go blessedly numb and sink into darkness.