Daily Words – 9/11/2014 (Warning: EXPLICIT)
Man, working with actual publishers has turned my brain to oatmeal. Finally back at it, Mothertruckers!
**Trigger Warning – Sexual Assault
Daily Words THE WHITE DOE – 9/11/2014
Patience struggled beneath the grain, pulling her arms upward, straining against the weight. Her hands broke the surface, and she pressed her palm against the worn barrel cover. The clatter of the storage house door stilled her.
The voice was jovial and frighteningly close.
“Hey fellas! For an older one, this one’s real pretty.”
There was a syrupy weight to the words, the man’s boots scuffing across the dirt floor. There was a tussle, the sound of fabric tearing and the sharp crack of a hand across the face. The sound of the slap was followed by a familiar wet sound – the sound of Georgia spitting in the man’s face.
“Oh, you do that again, old girl, and I’ll kick your teeth in and fuck your bloody mouth.”
Patience stifled a whimper, clamping her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t lay hidden while these men hurt her mother. She couldn’t. She shifted in her hiding place, forcing the muscles of her legs against the frame of the barrel, willing movement despite the great weight that held her in place. The grain began to shift around her; she was rising. The shrill, cry of anguish spurred her onward, but a new voice gave her pause.
“Jesus, Kevin! You sound like a god damn woman. What the hell’s wrong wit ya?”
He gasped a moment. “God damn it! The bitch bit my ear off!”
The heavy thud of skin pounding against skin caused every muscle in her body to tense. The sound took on a rhythm of purpose, the sound of the man beating her mother.
“Hey now! Don’t be ruinin her for the rest of us, y’idjit!”
“Ain’t no man gonna want nuttin to do with this bitch if they got a lick a fuckin sense!”
Her mother cleared her throat and spit, and was rewarded with another attack. Patience hadn’t a clue what good she’d be to her mother, had no strength to speak of, and could barely get herself out of the grain barrel, but she couldn’t just listen and do nothing. Patience flattened her palm against the barrel cover over her head and pushed.
“What kind of trouble are we getting ourselves into here, then?”
The lid fell back into place with a soft thud as the two men cleared their throats.
“Sorry, Lieutenant. Just – this one’s giving me a bit of trouble.”
There was silence in the space, the kind of silence one keeps around a sleeping beast, wary and ready. The man’s boots ground into the dirt floor as he moved across the room, slow and deliberate.
“I can see that, Chambers. That looks painful.”
The earless fellow grunted his response, but offered no words.
The Lieutenant’s voice was softer than the other men’s, and hinted an accent from the old country that she couldn’t place. He continued to move across the room, his footsteps coupled by reverent silence. He was drawing closer to Patience. She lowered her hand from the barrel lid, splaying her fingers over her head as though to hide behind them.
“Now, what brought you in here, if I might ask, my dear?”
“Not a damn thing.”
Georgia’s voice was clear, though thick from what Patience knew must be blood.
“No? Not a damn thing?”
The sound of knuckles wrapping at the wood by Patience’s ear startled her so wholly, she feared she’d never breathe again.
Georgia chuckled. “It’s a storage barn, fella. Thought you lot might pass me by if I hid in here.”
The Lieutenant wrapped his fingertips in slow rhythm on the lid of the barrel. Once, twice, then again. “Hmm. Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out that way.”
The man tapped one more time on the barrel and exhaled.
“What you want us to do with her, sir?”
“Not my concern. Take her outside.”
The one Patience knew as Kevin Chambers began grunting and laughing with the effort of moving his prize. She was fighting with everything she had, by the sound of it. “Jesus, Frances, gimme a god damn hand.”
“Clean death, fellas.”
The room fell silent.
“What? Sir -”
“You heard me. Clean death. Don’t play with this one.”
“She took a bite out of my god damn ear, sir. I think I deserve some -”
There was an inhale of breath from the two men, a startled reaction to something Patience couldn’t see.
“Precisely why this one deserves a good death. I appreciate a woman with some spirit.”
“God damn it!”
The second man answered, his voice low. “Yes sir. It will be done.”
Georgia growled in protest, her feet scuffling over the dirt floor as she was dragged from the storage barn. Patience listened, breathless, the Lieutenant still just a few feet from her hiding place. A moment later, Georgia Fields’ voice carried through the warped walls of the storage barn.
“Rot in hell, you son of a bitch.”
The gun shot splintered through the quiet barn, echoing across the nearby hills. There were no frightened cries to proclaim her death. There was no one left to protest. The Lieutenant took a few slow steps across the barn, whistling to himself as the men laughed outside.
That was the last time Patience ever heard her mother’s voice.