The story so far:
He had struck me right in the side of the head with his gun. I now lay crumpled in the floor holding my head in pain. I had never been in so much pain.
He then kicked me in the gut. He walked out of the room, mumbling in Spanish.
When I heard the door lock, I began crying quietly.
I wished I was back at the condo, with my family, and everything was perfect.
I wished that I was out running.
I wished I was back with Ian, without the heater of his truck.
I missed them all so much. I wish I knew what time it was.
As I tried to quit crying, I prodded where he had kicked me. It didn’t help stop the tears.
I definitely had a broken rib or two.
Just then, I wondered what my face looked like. I knew it looked different, now that I had a broken nose. I’m sure my face was covered in blood. I touched my nose real lightly, trying to imagine what it looked like. I could feel the break. I wondered if I was going to have to breathe through my mouth until it got fixed…If it did get fixed, that is…
I hear you are supposed to break it back into place to be able to get air through it. But I definitely didn’t know how to do that…besides, how long had it even been since it was broke?
Again, knowing the time would really be nice.
I sat there in my corner until I finally fell asleep.
I woke up, not remembering whether or not if I dreamed.
I had to pee really badly. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
First thing I did was go to the door. I knocked and knocked. I kept yelling, “I have to use the bathroom!” But just as I figured, no one came running.
I sat there in my corner, trying not to pee myself.
I sat for maybe an hour or so, at least, that is what it felt like.
Soon, the man from the day before came in. He still had his gun.
I slowly stood up. My ribs were burning.
He walked over to me, and then behind me. He kicked me in the back and I fell, coughing. It had knocked the breath out of me! Was that even possible?
I guess so.
“Get up!” He yelled at me.
Since I couldn’t breathe through my nose very well, it made it even harder to get air back into my lungs.
I slowly pushed myself up with my arms. It had my ribs stinging automatically.
As soon as I got up he kicked me again. This time, I was able to keep from falling completely.
Soon, after one more kick, I got to the door.
He then walked around me, his gun pointed at me still.
Did he seriously think I could do anything to him now?
He unlocked the door with one hand, the gun still pointed.
He pulled out some duct tape. He wrapped it over my eyes, and around my head. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t want anymore broken bones. He then pulled me outside the door.
He spun me around about five times and then grabbed my shoulder very roughly. He pulled me wherever I was going. I had no idea whatsoever.
Once, he got impatient with me and yanked me to my knees. He dragged me until I could get back up. Yeah, I guess that wasn’t the worst thing he had done to me, but the thing that caused the pain was the floor.
It was asphalt. I could tell by the feel on my feet. I then appreciated the concrete in the room I was staying in.
I didn’t think I could sleep on the asphalt…then again, I never imagined being able to sleep on concrete either.
But I was able to get up after about five seconds of wriggling. I then continued, with a limp, to wherever he was taking me.
I don’t know how long we walked.
From the sound of his shoes on the asphalt, I had a pretty good idea of my surroundings. The echoes suggested that we were in a huge open area. Maybe a warehouse? It sounded like there was nothing in it, except for us.
Finally, he stopped pulling me. I stopped walking. I felt him trying to find the end of the duct tape on my head. Just as I was about to ask him to please not, but he did it. He ripped the duct tape off, with my hair caught in it. I whimpered.
He pushed me inside a room and followed in behind me. It was a bathroom. All it had was a toilet and a sink with a mirror.
I turned around and looked at him.
He was going to stay while I used the restroom.
I stood there for a second. I didn’t want him watching me, the **** pervert. But then I thought about how bad I had to pee, and when the next chance to use the bathroom would be. I didn’t know.
So I sucked up my pride and walked on over to the toilet. I swallowed hard.
I pulled down my panties, and sat down.
I relieved myself right in front of this stranger.
After this, I grabbed some toilet paper, wiped, and I pulled my underwear up as I stood.
I then walked over to the sink and looked in the mirror above it. I looked horrible. I had dried blood under my nose, and it was caked on. I had a partially black eye, and a big bruise on the side of my head. I could see it peeking through my hair.
I got some water and tried to get off some of the blood. It didn’t come off easily. I splashed water on my face.
I looked down at my body in the mirror. I already knew about the bruise on my side, but there was a large yellowy bruise coming on my back.
I wanted to cry.
Instead, I finished cleaning off blood. I looked at my nose. It was a little crooked. I now had an extra bump in the bridge of my nose. I heard the man move behind me. I looked to see what he was doing, through the mirror. He was moving toward me. I turned quickly and hunched a little. I wasn’t exactly ready for what he did next.
“Be still.” He said. He had begun to reach toward my face. He put both hands on my nose.
He quickly broke it again.
I let out a small squeal and my eyes automatically overflowed with tears. I quickly pulled away from him. I bent over and tried to contain myself. The worst of the pain ended, but not completely.
There was blood again. I bent over the sink again and tried to get my eyes to stop watering. As the bleeding, died down, I rinsed my face.
I could breathe now through my nose. I was thankful for that.
I got some toilet paper and held it to my nose.
I looked at him with a blank look. He reached in his jacket and pulled out the duct tape again.
He just put it over my eyes this time. Again, I was thankful to him.
I began wondering why he was all of a sudden being all nice…well, as close to nice as he could be.
He spun me some more and we headed back.