Broken

short stories collection - a compilation of my short stories.

Summary

“Haha, my brother, how have you been?”
“Great. Times are good, money is flowing, bitches crawl all over me—what more could a man desire?”
I sat in the corner through blurred vision, watching them hug and chat. Grrrrrrr. There were many things I hated about this house, least of which was the rats. I went to work every day, but that can wait. I got up and was immediately dragged back down. The chains, how could I forget?


Inspired by a series of articles on sexual slavery in Eastern Europe, this is a surreal, sad tale of a girl and her abusers. This took my experimentation with more suspenseful, fear-driven stories to another level. Unfortunately, not all stories have a fairy-tale ending...

“Haha, my brother, how have you been?”

“Great. Times are good, money is flowing, bitches crawl all over me—what more could a man desire?”

I sat in the corner through blurred vision, watching them hug and chat. Grrrrrrr. There were many things I hated about this house, least of which was the rats. I went to work every day, but that can wait. I got up and was immediately dragged back down. The chains, how could I forget? I felt like crying sometimes, but then they would hit me, abuse me, and occasionally rape me. You may think, why have you not committed suicide? Haha, I’m better than that, that is what these scum want me to do. They take joy in such things; hell, one would probably get an erection from seeing a dead body like mine. It is sad really, that it had come to this, all the hopes and aspirations my family had, now embodied in a cheap whore living out of a common thugs house. It was my mother, I would blame her and the people she carried herself with, the debts she owed…

“Give it up woman, give it up!”

“I owe you nothing, nothing! Haha, you believe…you won’t get away with this…I have it all…the calls, the…”

“Bitch, you see that daughter of yours? You want her to stay pretty and innocent? What am I saying, of course you don’t, you selfish…”

“Selfish…I gave you all everything, my life, my…”

“Bitch, you gave us money. Money! You really think that is all we live for…money?”

“You going to monologue now!?”

“Dearest me, bitch doesn’t know a Quicker when she sees one, let me end this.”

People say that it was my imagination, that I had projected my beliefs about what my mother did onto my memories of her. I didn’t, at least…

The toy fell down the ladder, it clanked as it hit the different structures on the way down. The sky was a gray; it had been drizzling off and on the whole day. I wanted my toy. I got up and ran towards the edge of the roof; the ladder didn’t make it to the bottom, strange. I could faintly see my toy below. I started down the ladder, but heard a loud scream and looked to see my mother rushing over.

“You little rat, are you trying to ruin me; I’ve already told you, stay away from the ladder.”

I was bleeding, the chains had begun to dig into my skin and the brothers thought nothing of it, thought it would toughen me up. I looked around, they’d moved to a new house, ever wary of the police or the Quickers. The Quickers were…not of the highest moral standing, they would rape without remorse, and kill gleefully. I’d met one once, seemed more like a bunch of gangsta wackos, but they were smart, they’d fostered an image of immortality, people believed that they could not be harmed, that they were some sort of urban legend, some mythical group of people who stalked the land. But, the whole lot of them—these urbanites and rural riffraff that occupied this area—were not the brightest.

“Hey bitch, get up, time to leave.”

“Yoga, listen to the man, get up, we have to leave…NOW.”

“Dumb whore, see, I told you we should have kept her a bit more healthy, dumb shit.”

“Hey, don’t blame me, the clients like broken girls, just catering to demand.”

“Sometimes the businessman knows what’s best for himself and the client, you should take care to note of that. I don’t want my capital ruined.”

“I’m not your property you sick…”

“Shut up whore, hurry up, times leaving us.”

You know when you wake up with an arm tingling and the feeling gone from it, after you slept on it? That’s how my right leg felt, it would move, but it felt obscenely heavy and I fell over several times on the way out and to the car, getting no help along the way. They looked nervous, the brothers, which happened occasionally. One had pulled out an assault rifle and aimed it down the street.

“Come on bitch, hurry!”

It was dusty outside, the meadows on each side had turned brown and looked dead, the parched road had blackened holes puncturing it. I looked down the road and could make out several cars, smoke billowing behind them.

“Fuck, Ich erklärte Ihnen.”

“Don’t talk to me in that foul language, grab the girl, go, GO!”

He ran toward me and lifted me into the air. Rushing to the truck he barely broke stride as he dumped me in the back and jumped into the driver’s seat. The engine roared, I felt a ting then an acute pain and looked down to see some red substance covering the bottom of the truck bed.

“Hey, ack, [coughing], I’m fucking bleeding back here, HEY.”

They couldn’t hear me, I was lifted slightly into the air several times and each time I came down, I felt the poking sensation and then I realized.

“Oh fucking hell you didn’t.”

Looking down I realized that the bed was punctured with nails. What the fuck, who does that? I crawled to the back of the truck, didn’t see anything dangerous there, curled up and tried to get some rest.

My head hit the sand; a couple children kicked me and laughed.

“Hey Yoga, YOGA. Yeah you heard me, why ain’t you flexible? Haha.”

I looked up, rat. Reaching into my pocket I felt the cold sensation, the solid confirmation, the rigid explanation of this brats fate. I started to pull my hand out…and felt a firm grasp stop me.

“Yoga, don’t, he’s not worth it.”

“Then who is?”

“Not now, this isn’t the place, too many eyes.”

I let my hand slide back down and crawled to the corner of the sandpit. I shivered and tried to slide into the warm sand. These kids…where horrible. This happened daily, the fucking assistants did nothing to stop it. I’d seen it all, some 14 year old girl was nearly raped on these playgrounds, there were play structures that could hide unseemly acts from the nonexistent eyes of those who watched…

“Hey, Yoga-bitch, get up, we’re here.”

The day was now night and a lone streetlamp lit the way. I crawled out and the world bobbled up and down, I winched with every step. This wasn’t a safe house or even a Location, the warehouse before me looked abandoned, a burnt-out shell of its former glory.

“Why are we…”

“Don’t talk.”

They dragged me across the lot and one kicked open the door, the other threw me in.

“Sorry kid, been too much of a liability lately. We’ve decided to move up to a more respectable operation. You’re too broken to fit into this.”

My lunges gasped for air and my vision faded in and out.

“You mean you…[coughing]…your…[more coughing]…going to leave me here? What the fuck is that? You know this place is crawling with…”

“Yeah, we know. Might as well allow…something...a bit of pleasure before you are disposed.”

“Killed?”

“You could say that, we prefer ‘disposed’, kill is a bit morbid.”

“Huh?”

“Well, it was nice…”

“Holy shit, are you serious? It was ‘NICE’? You fucking abused and used me you…”

“Shhhhh, quite darling or you’ll wake the neighbors, unless of course you want the feast to start that much sooner. Haha. Bye now.”

They closed the door and the engine started up again, roaring off into the distance. I could hear creaking noises all around me, but I could not see. I could hear whispers, but my imagination was willing to play games at this stage. A chill went down my spine. They were getting louder.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, I’M HUNGRY, HAHAHA.”

What they hell? The sound pierced me and I felt my heart skip a beat, then the blood flowed more quickly. Oh shit, oh shit, those fucks they didn’t, oh fuck, fuck.

“SMELL THAT DARLING, THINK SOMEONE LEFT US SOMETHING.”

“HMMMMM, SMELLS LIKE IT’S STILL FRESH.”

I looked down at my thigh and legs—realizing, those nails…

“LET ME HAVE A BIT OF FUN WITH IT, BREAK IT AND MAKE IT SOFT FOR YOU.”

“HAVEN’T YOU BEEN SATIATED ENOUGH AFTER THOSE OTHERS?”

“I ALWAYS HAVE AN APPETITE, HAHA.”

I could hear their footsteps now and I crawled a bit toward a nearby ladder, maybe, just maybe, if I could get to higher ground.

“OOUUHHHH, IT MOVES.”

I looked around me, there is no way they heard me from that distance, especially with the ruckas they were causing, I could hear them far away…

“Haha, boo.”

My whole body froze and I stared into its eyes, how? What?

“Should keep your wits about you girl, the senses can be…easily deceived.”

“Haha, but the lesson is poorly noted, we’re a bit hungry...”

“...and in a bit of a hurry...”

“...so we’ll help us all out and make this quick.”

I felt a cold hand touch my back, running up it and around my neck down to my bosom—the whole time I could do nothing.

“She a bit broken in already, haha, all the better.”

“Hehe, well then, shall we?”

-biafra
bahanonu [at] alum.mit.edu

©2006-2017 | biafra ahanonu | updated 12 december 2017
biafra ahanonu