Adult theme warning. Contains violence, assault and so on. Contains mental health issues. Trigger warnings.
I had been forced to come to the Frivol Band's Gregarious Concert in The Soundbowl. I didn't particularly enjoy or hate their music. I wasn't a fan. But my best friends were. They have somehow gotten hold of enough tickets for our group and I had been dragged along, although I would have much preferred to lounge by the backyard pool with a couple of drinks on such a hot and humid night.
The Soundbowl Stadium was packed with an overflow of more than 4000 from what I had heard some of the staff saying through their walkie-talkies. The tickets we had gotten were standing tickets. Surprisingly, standing tickets were the most expensive tickets in the concert. A standing ticket enabled you to stand for 4 hours without a chance to be able to sit, jam packed into the crowd near the front of the stage. You can barely turn around, and can't go to the toilet without getting violently shoved around by fans who think you're just messing around like they are. The music here is so loud that it vibrates through the chest and bones, deafening you to all else.
I didn't see how any of my friends thought this was exciting or fun, but when part of a group wherein you are the minority, your opinions will invariably have to give way in order to maintain peace amongst the collective.
So here I was, dressed by my best friends in a skimpy miniskirt and a blouse that barely hid anything. I was surrounded by excited, jumping and screaming people who cared nothing for the personal space of the people around them or the fact that they might be hitting anyone. In fact, I was told, this was what made the experience more exciting.
What wasn't exciting was that a man had latched onto my body from behind, had his hands inside my clothes and had even jammed himself inside me, enjoying the fact that I couldn't escape and that my screaming blended into the rest of the screaming fans around me. The man had my arms pinned and had already come inside me twice, going for a third round, completely enjoying the ability to take advantage of me.
The crowd surged around us, making the man bang into me harder and to the beat of the music. My nethers were sore and aching, and when the man was finally done, he passed me onto another man who took his time with me too. By the time the night was over and the crowd was clearing out, I had lost count of how many people had taken advantage of my body.
Was I really so unlikeable that the world had to find ways to tell me how disgusted it was with me? Was the universe telling me that I was already dirty, so I might as well be thoroughly destroyed, inside and out?
I wasn't the only person left collapsed on the ground with fluids running down my legs. It seemed that there were quite a few other people, males and females alike, who were being helped up and out of the stadium.
"Hey, Weila," said the voice of Trom, one of the guys in our group. "There you are. Didn't we tell you the concert would be a blast? Come on. The others are over there."
I couldn't even curse at him. I was that tired.
Trom hauled me up slung and arm around my shoulders and put my arm around his and walked me over to the rest of the group where I saw that Queenie and Holly, my best friends looked drunk, exhuberant, but were also staggering on their high heels, fluids slowly dripping down their legs.
"That was the best," Queenie slurred.
"Yeah," Holly squealed. "It was the best. Do you think Weila finally got laid?"
"There she is," said Ramie, the leader of our group of friends. He looked me up and down and grinned. "Looks like she had a good time too."
I glared at him and my other friends.
So they had all known what it would be like in the crowded pit and that I would likely be assaulted. And they thought it was fun? They knew I didn't like things like this or Queenie and Holly's more promiscuous ways and yet they had forced me to come so that I would lose my virginity to strangers and possibly contract all sorts of STDs?
"Is this everyone?" Jaka looked around. He was usually our designated driver. "Alright. Let's go."
"Toilet," I croaked. "I gotta go to the toilet."
"Alright. Alright. Toilet stop it is."
We paused at one of the crowded toilets, patiently waiting in line. I listened to Queenie and Holly chat with some other fans of the band and exclaim over how exciting this concert had been and how many guys in the crowded pit had done them. They discussed in detail the various techniques the different men had used, while I gritted my teeth.
After tonight, I had decided, I was never coming out to a concert with them ever again. Over my dead body. They knew I was saving myself for my boyfriend, Masib. What would he think after he learnt that I was no longer a virgin? He'd probably break up. He was a stickler for cleanliness and propriety. A proper gentleman. He would never believe that I hadn't come to this place and been done in willingly. After all, he knew what my friendship group was like.
Once I had cleaned up a bit in the toilet and thrown up whatever was in my empty stomach, I staggered out in barefeet, throwing my broken high heeled sandals in the bin on the way out. Once outside, the boys came to support us girls and help our wobbling figures into the van. In the van, I closed my eyes, only to be nudged awake to be given a bottle of juice to drink.
We must have stopped off somewhere for them to buy the drinks and some food. I could hear the crinkling rustle of plastic bags and food wrappers and smell bread.
"Come on. It's late, we're all sore and tired. We're staying here for the night," Trom told me, helping me out of the van into a dark expanse.
"Where are we?" I asked, trying to see through the darkness.
"Hunter's Peak," Trom told me.
"Oh."
It was Ramie's log cabin that had been built in the forested land that his family took care of. I'd been here multiple times with my friends, staying here for weeks during the holidays. We hadn't come as often since we had started university and started working, but still visited once in a while when we could coordinate our leave dates.
I sank onto the bedroll that was mine and ignored the others. I was upset and angry with them. They either didn't notice or didn't really care. Anyway, I was so exhausted that I could barely keep my eyes open. After having been forced to have a few sips of the juice, they left me alone to sleep.
I woke up in the middle of the night feeling something was wrong.
Moonlight streamed through the uncurtained window and I could just make out the shadowy figure on top of me, moving in me. On either side of me, Queenie and Holly were shrieking and panting with excitement.
"Awake, Weila?" panted Ramie's voice in my ear.
"What? Ramie? What are you doing?" I hissed, trying to push him off and out, but his lips came crashing down.
"It's about time," Ramie whispered in my ear, "that you were properly inducted into our circle. Don't worry. We won't hurt you. Queenie and Holly told me that you have a crush on me. Since it's your birthday, I thought we'd surprise you with this gift. Are you happy?"
Happy? I had gotten a boyfriend after years of crushing on this best friend of mine who had never shown me any kind of interest beyond platonic friendship and now that I was preparing to get engaged, they did this to me?
"Ramie, stop," I gasped, trying not to moan.
"Why should I?" Ramie chuckled. "We've been waiting and planning this for years, and then you had to go and become girlfriend of that stuck up prick, Masib. Masib is already married, didn't you know? He was just hoping to get you into bed tonight. We had to stop him. So we set this up for you. Don't be upset. We'll make sure to satisfy you more than Masib ever would have."
"Are you crazy? Get off. Get off me, right now, you jerk."
"I can't. I'm not done yet," Ramie said, his stubborn streak showing. "And I haven't made you come or beg me yet. I'm finally showing you the attention you've always wanted. Aren't you happy?"
He thrust harder, making me groan. Beside us, a hand crept over and I smelled Trom's scent as he kissed me, while I could hear the slapping sound of him doing Queenie beside me, making her moan. Queenie screamed and I heard her shuddering breaths, making me grimace with disgust.
My best friends. Could they even still be considered best friends anymore? It sounded like Queenie and Holly had been doing this kind of thing with the boys for a while already.
"Shove over, Ramie. Let me take her from behind. She probably still has another virgin hole that's free."
I heard the squealing orgasm of Holly coming on my other side, and then both Trom and Jaka crawled over. Their hands felt me over and I shivered with disgust, doing my best to fright Ramie off. Ramie only caught my wrists and pinned them above me.
"Jaka, you control her hands," Ramie hissed in pain. "She scratches like a wildcat. You can have her mouth."
"Don't bite me," Jaka said, taking my wrists from Ramie's iron grasp. "Bite me and I'll bite back," he whispered in my ear.
Ramie rolled me onto my side, and I felt Trom lubricating my back entrance with his fingers, making me jerk and scream. I cursed the boys, but that didn't stop them. Only made them chuckle until Jaka took both my wrists in his one big hand and them shut me up by using a fist in my hair to tilt my head back so that he could shove himself down my throat, making me choke and gag.
While I was trying to breathe, Trom slowly pushed his way in.
"Weila, you're so tight," Trom groaned.
"Yeah," Ramie agreed, only moving in me slowly, holding me tight while Trom was waiting for me to adjust to his size.
It was uncomfortable. I was too full and I couldn't breathe. Being done by three of my best friends just felt so wrong and weird. All I could think of other than the disgust was that I really needed to pee. My bladder was being squished.
From the side, Holly and Queenie made suggestions to the boys until my body began reacting to them, making the whole group laugh.
The boys took turns switching positiins and places with each other until I could no longer feel or think what was going on. I slipped in and out of consciousness, until I saw the pearly crack of dawn through the window. Only then did the boys calm down and start giving the complaining Queenie and Holly more attention.
"Don't worry if you get pregnant," Ramie told me. "We'll take care of you if you do."
I wanted to complain and curse at him, but I had lost my voice during the night.
The boys cooked and casually enjoyed teasing Queenie and Holly in a way I had never seen them play. They were all so relaxed and comfortable with each other. Meanwhile, I had curled myself up in a ball after the boys had helped to wash and clean me up. The bedrolls had been washed and were flapping in the sun and breeze outside.
Perhaps, I had never really been a part of this group. Perhaps, I had been too busy trying to fit in and belong that I had never noticed what kind of people they really were.
I had to leave and get out of here, but they were all watching my every move. They took care of me even more gently than they had before, but that only made the contrast with Queenie and Holly's boldness all the bigger.
"It's just s'x," Ramie told me. "No need to be so scared and uptight. We're your best friends. Would we hurt you?"
Hurt. Just s'x. Best friends? What best friends preyed on their innocence, got them gang r'ped and then gang r'ped them themselves? Did they even know what they were doing, trampling on my feelings and boundaries like this?
It was already a miracle I wasn't more injured than I was.
They decided to go out to the nearby stream to play, but agreed to allow me to stay in the cabin by myself to rest. The moment I was sure they were gone, I got dressed in my spare clothes, picked up the car keys and limped out to drive away, leaving them stranded here.
They knew how to take care of themselves.
But if I really left and stranded them here, I could imagine how mad they might be. Alright. No car then.
I dropped the car keys on the driver's seat and took a deep breath. Hiking it was then. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and found an old drawstring foraging bag to put it in. Then with the bag on my shoulder and in my barefeet, I set off.
If I got lost and died in this mountain forest on my way back, it would just be too bad. Right now, I didn't care. All I knew was I had to get out and leave before they found me and killed me with their 'care'.
Although I wasn't as adept at forest survival as Ramie, I had done some research of my own. As long as I found a few edibles on the way, conserved my water and didn't hurt my feet on the loamy forest floor, I might survive the journey back to civilisation. And if I stayed off the trails and cut through the forest to make a beeline directly for the closest town, it should only take me a day or two.
If I didn't get lost.
If Ramie and my friends didn't manage to hunt me down like the wounded beast of prey that I felt I had become.
Into my foraging bag, I collected what edible plants, fruits and nuts I came across. It didn't matter what it was. As long as it was edible. Beggars couldn't be choosers and I hadn't been able to find where my friends must have hidden the food in the cabin.
I had to be practical. Focused.
I couldn't help remembering what had happened at the concert. Remembering the dread, disgust and helplessness. The pain. The press and sweaty skin.
And then there was last night.
My so-called best friends. Using me. Purposely finding ways to make me react and moan. Trying to make me enjoy what they said I didn't know I wanted.
Remembering it all made me stop to throw up. I felt sore. Sore and exhausted. Bruised and battered. But what hurt most of all was the betrayal. It twisted into my chest like a sharp knife trying to gouge my heart out.
I had tried so hard. Worked so hard to be one of the group. To not be left behind. I had loved them for including me despite knowing I was a misfit.
And it turned out they had been planning to destroy me the whole time. Probably scoffing and mocking me behind my back like I had heard them rip other people apart. I had seen the signs. Known they weren't good for me, and yet my lonely heart had refused to recognise the signs.
Masib had been right.
My concerned lecturer who had taken me aside one day after class to warn me had been right.
My parents had been right.
My stupid brother had been right.
And I had been a loyal idiot.
Served me right for not listening to advice.
Served me right for disregarding the concern of all the people who really cared about me.
I dashed the tears from my eyes and gritted my teeth. If I wanted my 600mL bottle of water to last me until I got out of here, I needed to conserve my energy and my water. I couldn't afford to lose more fluids right now. I could drink to my heart's content later.
Although I did my best, I couldn't help it. My mind kept returning to the concert and last night, making the figurative knife stab me over and over in the heart, driving the blade deeper and deeper into my wounded heart.
Masib wasn't going to want me anymore. He had been very clear when we first started our relationship that if I cheated - if I lost my chastity before marriage, he was going to just walk away. I needed to explain but would he even listen to my explanation?
I should call him. Maybe he'd be willing to come and help me?
Wait. Call him? Right. My mobile phone. Where was my mobile phone? I hadn't seen it in the hunting cabin. Hadn't seen it after the concert. The last time I had seen it was when Holly had taken it from me so that she and Queenie could dress me up. I didn't recall her ever giving it back.
I rubbed my face with both hands.
Idiot. Stupid little idiot. I was so dumb.
I spotted a patch of wild raspberries and picked a few handfuls quickly. I could take them from my foraging bag and eat them as I walked. While I hurriedly picked, not knowing when my friends would come hunting for me, I gobbled a few down and felt my eyes brighten at the sweet and tangy taste.
Delicious. So much tastier than the raspberries available in the supermarket. I should savour these while I could.
I moved on, carefully avoiding any thorny bushes and grasses. My soft bare feet might not last the distance but they were all I had at the moment. Unless I found a way to make myself some sort of protective footwear.
Last year, during a summer festival, there had been a hands-on arts and crafts workshop where we had been taught how to weave our own straw hats. If I adapted what I had learnt from there, perhaps I could make straw sandals using the abundance of dried grass. Or perhaps I'd find a thick piece of bark or wood that I could turn into soles for flip flops.
I'd try the straw version first and weave as I walked, collecting dead grass stalks as I needed from the big tufts growing here and there thought the forest. It would be something to distract myself and keep me from the darker and more negative thoughts.
There were crashing sounds in the distance and the carrying sound of people calling my name in a sing-song manner. As if they were mocking me.
"Weilaaa... Weilaaa... Come out, come out, wherever you are?" that was Queenie's voice.
Did she know how creepy that sounded?
I threw my barely begun grass weaving into the bushes and sped up. Running was not a good idea in unfamiliar territory. These forests were known to be treacherous even to those who thought they knew the place like the backs of their hands. The best I could do was prevent injury but maintain a fast paced, trying not to leave any more signs of my whereabouts for people to track.
"Weilaaa," Trom had taken up the creepy call. "Weilaaa..."
One by one, my friends began to sing their search for me, singing in a creepy choir. It made me shudder and my foot slipped on a tree root.
Ugh. I wanted to throw up again.
Who knew what they would do to me when they found me again?
It'd be better to just die.
Speaking of which, I spotted a cluster of pointy nightcap toadstools. Those were deadly poisonous. It'd probably hurt like hell of I ate them, but that would be one way to do it.
My shaking hand hoovered above the toadstools and then, I chickened out. I decided to just keep moving.
Of the other five of my so-called friends, only Ramie had any experience in hunting and tracking. And even then, he wasn't very good at it. If I was smart and fast enough, he wouldn't be able to track me down at all.
Ramie. The man and best friend is been crushing on for the past five years. If he had known I had a crush on him, why had he never responded to my advances in the past five years? Why hadn't he just outright rejected me? Why wait until now to humiliate me? What had changed?
He was so handsome, so beautiful, so clever. Unfortunately, he was also a bit of a narcissist know-it-all who tended to take people and things around him for granted. Last night, he had finally given me the attention I had wanted, but instead of enjoying it, I had hated it. Hated him.
How could he? How could he and the others have done that to me and called it a birthday present?
I took a step and the ground I thought was there gave way, disappearing beneath me, causing me to fall, crash a foot into something hard that sent white, hot lances of pain through me, and then tumble down a steep incline, crashing and bumping into all sorts of things, until I landed with a splash in a very shallow creek. The icy water was near freezing, giving me a shock.
It was only after a very long moment that I was able to move again. I first twitched my fingers and toes and then tried to roll over. I had lost my foraging back and water bottle somewhere along the way.
When I moved my right leg, a sharp pain stabbed into me.
Hissing, I sat upright to get a better look in the dim shaded light of the forest. My ankle was bent at an odd angle. I didn't dare to even try to move it. Just looking at it sent waves of nauseating, blinding pain through me.
And that wasn't the worst part.
There was a deep gash in my calf. I could almost see the muscles protruding.
I couldn't help it. I turned over to retch and then dry heave and then throw up all the berries and things I had eaten earlier. Throwing up made my body move, which made my badly injured calf and broken ankle move, which sent even greater waves of pain through me. I didn't even know when I fainted.
When I woke up, it was dark, and I was shivering both from the wet and the cold. I was still in the creek.
Gritting my teeth and feeling cold sweat prickle out to soak my already creek drenched clothes, I edged my way out of the creek bit by bit.
Thankfully my right foot and ankle, having been soaking in icy creek water were all numb. I could barely feet them. Maybe the creek water had also washed the wound clean. Who knew?
With no one to call for help and no way to fend off any possible wild beasts that might think me easy pickings, I could only do my best to take care of myself. I had done a level 2 first aid certificate before. I should know what to do.
Once I was out of the creek, I'd have to remove my wet clothes so that my body temperature didn't drop any further. Try to straighten or splint my ankle. Bind up the big open gash wound on my calf.
Pray. Pray hard.
Getting my clothes off while I was shivering and shaking like a leaf wasn't easy. My teeth chattered noisily. My fingers were clumsy and just wouldn't do what they were told. All the shivering and shaking were starting to wake the pain up.
Damn. I was in trouble.
I woke up to feel the faintest wisps of warmth from the speckled sunlight overhead, filtering down to where I lay, still partially in the creek. Moving was difficult. My limbs all felt leaden and clumsy. Moving hurt. Hurt so much.
Lying there on the forest floor, I looked up at the dancing tree canopy and sighed. I guessed my life would end here. It was a beautiful section of forest. It wasn't a place I had planned to go, but I didn't have much choice now.
I was still cold, but I also felt hot. My body had stopped shivering and my mind felt all light and floaty. Drifting here and there.
Dying.
Yeah. I could accept that.
It was one way to escape the agony of betrayal. Be rid of my dirty, defiled body. Avoid the trials of life and the torture of depression. I would be free. Free from it all.
It was only a matter of time now.
This gift of death had eluded me for so many years. I had danced and played with the idea so many times, but never succeeded. Nobody had known either. I had kept it hidden. My own dark little secret. But finally, it had come for me.
Free.
What did it feel like to be free?
I supposed I would find out.
Closing my heavy eyelids, I allowed my heart to still and peace overtake me, allowing my consciousness to be weighed down by an uncommon drowsiness. Pulling me down.
Down.
Down.
But just as I thought I was going to completely disappear, there was a distant exclamation. Someone shook my shoulders, calling me. Not my name. It seemed to be a stranger who didn't know me.
"Wake up. Wake up. Oh, God, what do I do?"
A man.
The voice was somewhat familiar.
Gradually, I swam back up through the dark and focussed on prying open my bleary eyes to see who this unlikely rescuer was. Why now? Why hadn't he waited a little longer before arriving? I was pretty sure I had just been about to log off and out of this body for good. Why had he come now?
Peering through barely open eyes, I was amazed to recognise the man. He was one of the youngest university professors. He taught about wildlife, zoology and botany. He wasn't my professor, but often going to classes in the same building, we had seen each other around.
Or at least, I had seen him around. Queenie had seen him and looked him up, thinking he was cute, but upon passing him one day to smell animal excrement on him, she had decided not to dance with danger after all and left the man alone.
Why was he here? Had he come to look at some flora and fauna in the wild? Do some research? Follow up on a rescued animal that had been released?
"Squeeze my hand. Can you squeeze my hand?"
I could only give him a flicker of a response and then seeing me watching through my slitted eyes, he smiled and gave a sigh of relief.
He introduced himself but my mind had drifted off again, to stare at the sunlight dancing among the trees beyond him. When I glanced at him again, he was already on the phone while he looked around for danger and tried to check on my injuries.
"You're so cold. Your clothes are all wet," he hissed, while following the instructions of the emergency officer on the phone with him. "Can you speak? Can you tell me your name?"
I could only smile faintly at him, watching him calmly. Death wasn't that far away. It was still calling me. Still trying to pull me down.
Knuckles rubbed my breastbone, making me frown.
Ow. That hurt.
"I'm sorry," the young professor told me in a gentle voice. "I know it hurts, but you can't sleep. Your pulse is very weak and very slow. You probably have hypothermia and have lost a lot of blood from the looks of things. The rangers are on their way with paramedics. You just hang in there. Ok?"
Why would I want to hang in there when I wanted to die anyway? Had been wanting to die for years?
But his stories and little anecdotes were kind of interesting, although I had no idea what he was talking about half the time. If I stopped responding to him, he would rub my breath one with his fist and give the emergency officer still on the line and update on how I was doing.
It looked like he wasn't going to let me go if he could help it.
I sighed.
He was a good man. I didn't want my death to weigh on his conscience. I supposed I could wait until the paramedics arrived or something. When there were more people and nobody would blame themselves if I slipped away while being transported.
The young professor saw the signs of where I had fallen from and took photos, looking at me with concern.
"You survived a fall from quite a height, young lady," he clicked his tongue and described the area to the emergency worker on the phone.
Young lady.
As if I was much younger than him. We were probably only a few years apart in age. Certainly no more than ten years apart.
The professor started cataloguing my injuries for the emergency officer, starting with my head and gradually working his way down my body. Unfortunately, I wasn't wearing much, and what I was wearing was all ripped and torn. He apologised when he lifted my shirt and gasped when he caught sight of the skin around my more sensitive areas. Particularly around my hips. He swallowed and his eyes seemed to burst into flame as he described to the emergency worker of all the various bruisesand finger marks of people who had obviously grabbed me with rough hands.
"We'll find who did this to you," he told me, after rubbing my breastbone with his knuckles again. "We'll find them and bring them to justice. All of them. The hands are all different sizes. I don't believe you agreed to any of this activity, am I right? You have defensive marks and bruises on your wrists and hands."
I couldn't help smiling again at this man's righteous fury.
How would the police or anybody find who did me at the concert? Even I didn't know how many people had banged me there. As for my 'best friends'? One was the son of a prosecutor. One was the daughter of a policeman. One was the son of a politician. One was the daughter of a specialist doctor. One was the heir to a massive multi-million corporation. Was it even possible for them to be brought to justice?
Now that I thought about it, with their identities, I truly didn't fit into their circle? Who was I? Just a daughter of barely hanging in there researchers who spent most of their time in labs and writing papers that were repeatedly being rejected from the academic journals they applied for. Researchers so low on the ladder of respect that despite their seniority, they were basically the research assistants for others. I didn't even know why they kept trying despite so many rejections and failures. If it were me, I would have burned the labs down long ago and probably myself with them.
"You're smiling? You're smiling," the professor exclaimed with delight, holding my hand. "That's right. You hang in there. You hold onto those thoughts of those bastards who hurt you being sentenced and going to prison."
I almost wanted to laugh at the man's naivety. But then he started trying to examine my injured calf and broken ankle in greater detail and that's when he lost me. It must have been with great difficulty and anxiety that he managed to wake me up again, just as the rangers and paramedics were arriving.
I was quickly bundled onto the waiting stretcher when the paramedics ran basic tests on me. The rangers called for help so that they could go look at where I had come from and fallen down. The paramedics huffed and puffed carrying me in the stretcher, and the nervous young professor back down the mountain to a carpark off the side of the road.
I drifted in and out of the dark, listening to voices and people trying their best to rush down the mountain and trees, but at the same time keep me conscious. They seemed concerned that I could only look at them but not speak. They tried to reassure me, but I only gave them a gentle smile, trying to reassure them not to take it too hard if I died on them.
"She's a student in the university where I work," the young professor said. "I recognise her, but I don't know her name or what course she's taking."
He recognised me? Wow. My own professors didn't recognise me or know who I was. Why did he?
They discussed how they would find out my identity when I had nothing on me that could tell them who I was, and amongst that, I must have passed out. From hypothermia or blood loss, who knew?
It was such a pity that I didn't die.
I woke up to feel myself being roasted in the hospital. At least, that's what it felt like they were doing to me. Trying to cook me alive with heat packs and hot blankets. I had a blood bag in one arm. Another IV bag in the other arm. Nurses were bustling. My body felt heavy. Thankfully my injured leg and ankle weren't as painful as I expected when I first tried to move them, but when I tried to move more, I discovered my ankle in a plaster, and felt a pulling pain in my calf.
"Don't move. Don't move," a nurse saw me awake and rushed over, upon seeing me trying to get up and look at my leg. "You aren't going to be feeling very well after losing so much blood and you just had surgery to stitch your calf back up. You're alright now, but you can't get up. Is there anything you want? Do you need to go to the bathroom? Are you in pain?"
I blinked at her slowly and then closed my eyes to go back to sleep.
She had answered my question already. Just had surgery, huh.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw the young professor sitting by my side, while Queenie and Holly lounged nearby chatting. I immediately closed my eyes again, not wanting to have to interact with them. I clenched a fistful of the bedsheet in order to try and control myself.
The sight of them made me want to throw myself out the bed and run for my life. If they were here, the boys wouldn't be far away.
"Thank you ladies for helping us identify Weila. Now we can contact her parents. I'm sure they're very worried about her," a nurse was saying.
"I wouldn't recommend contacting her parents," Queenie said, sounding a little nonchalant. "They don't get along. She won't thank you for it and there would be a big fuss here in the hospital. You don't want an altercation here in the hospital, right?"
I tried not to tremble at the lies Queenie was spouting. It was true I didn't get along with my parents but it didn't mean I didn't want them.
"We'll be paying her medical fees. When Weila is better, we'll take her home. We're her best friends."
I couldn't help shaking my head, but my body still felt resistant to moving and so my head didn't move much.
"Weila?" asked a soft voice, bringing everyone's attention back to me.
The voice sent a shock of terror through me. I hadn't realised Ramie was there on the other side of the bed. His hand reached toward me to touch my cheek and I couldn't help flinching, which made my injured leg twitch and then made me wince as sweat poured out from the sharp pain.
"You're awake," sighed the young professor with relief, patting my hand and I grabbed it, squeezing it hard. Hoping he understood my silent plea. He didn't seem to mind. Maybe because I had very little strength.
I looked at the professor, pleading for him to help me. Rescue me. Save me from my evil friends. Don't leave me with them.
The professor looked at me with mild confusion and puzzlement.
"Are you in pain?" he asked, while a nurse bustled over to take my vital signs.
Everyone seemed to blink at the numbers on the screen in surprise.
"Weila? What's wrong?" the nurse asked and I released the professor to hold onto her.
I tried to speak but no sound came out. I could feel my concentration wavering as my vision began to fade to black.
"Help me," was all I managed to mouth before I was gone again.
It was much quieter later. Carefully turning my head and feeling the room whirl with dizziness as I did so, I saw the lights had been turned off and nobody was around. A button on a wire had been tucked under my hand. The button had the picture of a nurse on it. I guessed this was the nurse call bell and pressed the button.
It was a long time before a tired nurse turned up yawning.
"Ah. You're awake. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"
"Parents," I whispered to her. I could finally dredge up the strength to speak. "Call my parents."
"You'd like your parents to be informed of your condition?"
I gave a tiny nod.
"Wonderful. In any case, due to the emergency, the doctor had already given them a call. They'll be flying in tomorrow to see you."
I heaved a sigh of relief and felt myself relax a little.
"Would you like to go to the toilet? Or would you like something to eat?"
"Water," I whispered and the nurse used the bed controls to sit me up.
The movement of the bed and the lifting of my upper body made the room whirl and rock dizzyingly. I tried to tell the nurse but she couldn't hear me while she was busy pouring my water.
When she turned around to see me slumping in the bed, she quickly lowered the bed head and ran to call for help.
A doctor hurried in and I wasn't sure what they did but the breathed a sigh of relief when the machines stopped bleeping and I had stabilised.
I coughed and opened my eyes again. I needed to tell them. Tell them not to let those disgusting people near me again.
It took a lot of effort and patience, but we were able to have a quiet conversation. I noticed I was in a private room and I appreciated that. It allowed me to talk and tell them everything. Beg them to keep my bad friends from me.
The doctor and nurses listened with serious expressions, taking notes and asking questions. Eventually, they exchanged looks with each other and took a deep breath.
"Would you like the police to get involved?" they asked.
I nodded, feeling tired after all that talking.
Then they told me about my condition and how I was out of danger but might not be able to handle a lot of stress. I had a fever due to an infection and my broken ankle while fixed, might never be flexible again. One of the joints had need to be fixated, because there had been more than one fracture.
I was very lucky to still be alive.
I didn't feel lucky. I wished I hadn't survived.
"Don't say that," the nurse dabbed at my wet eyes with a tissue. "If you didn't survive, how would you be able to expose the real faces of all those people and the atrocities that happen at that concert? How would you be able to get any justice? You're the victim. Don't blame yourself."
I broke down and sobbed in the nurse's arms and she crooned soothing words to me. She managed to get me a packet of sandwiches a d cup of hot chocolate to try and help soothe me. She even helped me with my overflowing bladder.
Eventually, I was able to fall back asleep despite the raw and jagged emotions.
The next day arrived with my parents hurrying in and me breaking down into tears again.
"I told you they were bad for you," my father seethed.
"I'm not going to let them get away with it," my mother declared. "We aren't going anywhere until we deal with this."
"Tell us about them in more detail," my father ordered and I did my best to recall all the details and information about my friends.
After learning all their background and the depths of supports behind them, my parents exchanged fiery but slightly fearful gazes. It looked like even they weren't sure whether we would be able to win a fight against people with connections and deeper backgrounds than us.
Then the police arrived and I had to tell my whole story for a third time, although this time in greater detail. While the police were there, my 'best friends' arrived and immediately seemed to go on the defensive, trying to get between me and my parents, interrupting the police. In the end, they were escorted out of the hospital and when my friends demanded I stand up for them, I turned my head away.
I didn't see them again. Even when I was discharged and went home with my parents to recuperate, they didn't reappear before me again.
That was until three months later, I had gotten up, feeling nauseous after a bad dream only to find my bedroom window open and Ramie lying by my side in the bed with a wicked grin. His fingers drew lazy circles on my body, while I stared at him, stiff with fear.
"You're going to come with me quietly," he whispered in a low voice, breath tickling my ear. "All the fuss and bother these few days has been all your fault. The least you can do is to come and face us yourself, instead of hiding behind your parents and police. We looked after you, tried to help you and this is all the thanks we get? Tch. You're such an ungrateful little bitch."
I opened my mouth to shout, but was interrupted by him kissing me. Aggressively. I bit down and he bit back, pinning me to the bed when I tried to make more noise to alert my parents.
"Guys," Ramie hissed, and two more shadows slunk into my room. I stared at Jaka and Trom, feeling like my heart was going to burst from the panic.
The guys moved about my room quietly, taking things from my wardrobe to tie me up and gag me. My struggling made them impatient and I was shocked when a blow to my face and then my abdomen knocked the wind out of me.
In the end, they decided to roll me up in my blanket and then stuff me into my large luggage case, zipping me into the dark. And then, it was relatively easy for them to take me out of my room.
I felt myself being tossed out of the window to be caught by someone. And then I was carried into a car. Everyone was here. The whole gang. I could hear their voices. Someone patted me in my luggage case, the car started and we were off.
It was a long car ride. One where I lost all sense of time, feeling suffocated and trapped, cramped from being stuck in this tiny space and terrified what they would do to me.
We travelled day and night. The gang only ever let me out at night to use the toilet at deserted rest stops. My limbs would be trembling and heavy, tortured by the feeling of pins and needles, barely able to deal with my needs without help. They would feed me and then just as my limbs were starting to feel normal again, I would be stuffed back in the luggage case.
I think they were feeding me sleeping pills, because once we were back on the road, I would gradually lose strength and fall asleep again.
How long we travelled, I wasn't sure. Eventually, I became numb to it all. Just waiting for death.
At a remote farmhouse, the tortuous, mind numbing days of travel finally ended. I was just relieved to be allowed free from the luggage case to be worried about much else. I was willing to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, as long as they never put me back in that suffocating luggage case again.
I cooked. I cleaned. I did the laundry. They sent me out to do the hard work, seeing to the farm animals and garden. They lounged about inside, ordering me here and there like their own little maid. When one of the boys felt like it, they bedded me or thought up ways to tease me while I was still meant to be getting chores done.
Unsurprisingly, all us girls got pregnant. The boys didn't mind. After all, we could still please them with our other holes. Queenie and Holly got creative and thought up new experimental ways to enjoy the pleasure, always using me as the guinea pig first.
The boys were surprisingly gentle with me, reluctant to do anything risky that might seriously hurt me. That didn't mean they didn't like causing me discomfort though. The three enjoyed lavishing me with their unwanted attention once Queenie and Holly had been satisfied, having me three on one.
Queenie and Holly preferred one on one or two on one, but I couldn't protest. And I had no say. There was no way to fight back and if I did, that would only turn them on even more and the torture would last even longer.
My pregnancy didn't last long. My health wasn't all that good and I miscarried. Seeing the bloody embryo in the form of a still little baby nearly broke me. The others had needed to tie me to the bed while they buried the poor thing.
After that, there was always somebody with me, keeping an eye on me so that I wouldn't be able to kill myself.
Queenie and Holly were taken to the hospital to give birth. Jaka and Trom went with them, leaving me alone with Ramie. By this time, it was roughly five or six months after the miscarriage, and Ramie felt it was time I started allowing the boys to touch me again.
He was gentle. Considerate. Nothing like the first time. He wiped my tears and told me not to worry. I'd soon have another child.
And then a man strode into the farmhouse with a shotgun and shot him.
I watched unfeelingly as I watched Ramie gasp and bring a hand to the hole in his chest, showing me the blood there. And then he collapsed. Silently, I lay in the bed becoming soaked with Ramie's blood, watching the man with the shotgun searching through the room.
Seeing me following him with my eyes without moving, the man paused. He pushed Ramie off me and pulled me out of the bed, looking me up and down with a clicking tongue while I just stood there, covering only what needed to be covered.
"Damn," he said and wrapped me in a spare coat from the wardrobe, sitting me down in a chair.
I stayed where he left me and didn't move when I heard him go on to search the rest of the house.
Eventually, he came back, shotgun slung on his back. He looked at me with a critical eye and indecision.
"Want to come with me?" he asked.
"Will you please kill me?" I replied and he took a step back in surprise.
"No," he shook his head. "Anyone else about?"
"They're in the hospital. The girls are due to give birth tomorrow."
"How long have you lot been living here?"
I shrugged.
"Don't know."
"Why don't you know, darling?" the man leaned on the door, looking curious.
"They kidnapped me," I said with a shrug. "I don't know where we are, let alone the date."
The man whistled.
"Any particular reason why they kidnapped you, darling?"
I wrapped the coat a little tighter around my shoulders.
"They were my best friends, but forced me to go to a concert where I got gang banged. They did it on purpose. Then they took me away to bang me themselves and told me it was a birthday present. I ran away, fell down a mountain, nearly died and reported them to the police."
"Oh. You're that girl. I suppose I did you a favour then."
"It would be even better if you would just kill me as well."
"I shot a nuisance. A thief who keeps stealing from my property. I have no beef with you, darling. I'm not going to kill you."
"Then, I guess I'll have to do it myself," I said, standing up to limp toward the kitchen.
When the man saw me take a knife and prepare to slit my throat, he swore and wrestled the knife out of my hands.
"You're serious," he panted, gripping me tightly. His eyes looked into my dead ones with confused fury.
"I'm always serious," I gave him a small smile that made him groan and close his eyes for a moment.
"I can't leave you here or you'll kill yourself and they'd blame your death on me too - if anyone ever comes looking for him," he looked up at the ceiling. "Alright," he said with a tone of finality. "You're coming with me. Come on, darling. Pack your things. Let's go. I have to set this place on fire."
"I don't have any things," I told the man.
"All those girly things in the other wardrobes, none of them are yours?" he asked, eyebrows shooting skyward.
I shook my head.
"Damn," he cursed. "Your friends are vicious."
I shrugged.
"They're not my friends."
"I can see that," the man whistled. "Promise me you won't kill yourself while I'm busy setting this place on fire."
"I can't promise that," I told the man and he shook his head.
"Fine. Let's at least get you dressed into something decent. Seeing you like this and half smothered by blood is turning me on. Go have a shower. I'll grab some clothes and things for you. You'll need something to wear at my place."
"Your clothes are no good?"
"Damn, darling. Don't you know what it means to say that to a man? Come on. Go shower. Or should I come in there with you?"
"You not afraid I'll kill myself in the bathroom?"
"Damn it," the man cursed, although I didn't know why. "You'll be the death of me, you know? I'm not a good man. If I come in there, I'll definitely be doing bad things to you."
"You could just kill me," I shrugged again. "Or let me kill myself."
"Darling, stop it," the man said, helping me up and turning me around, pushing me into the bathroom. "Clean up. Come on."
Gruffly, the man turned on the shower, checked the temperature and then shoved me under the water. Seeing me just stand there, he let out a muffled curse and then began choosing a shower gel to wash me with.
His hands lingered, and although a little uncertain, he was gentle. Far gentler than any of the others had ever been to me. He washed my hair and massaged my scalp, grabbing Holly's towel off the rack to dry me with.
And then, he led me by the hand to go shopping amongst Holly and Queenie's clothes, choosing something simple and practical for me to wear for now. A t-shirt and tracksuit pants. None of the underclothes fit me. Queenie's were too big. Holly's were too small. The t-shirt and tracksuit pants were Queenie's.
Once I was dressed, the man led me to the car where he buckled me in with the seatbelt and then for good measure, tied my hands down.
That done, he went inside to loot the house, returning with bags of food, clothes and other necessities for me. From the car, I watched him douse the inside and outside of the house with petrol, carrying all sorts of flammables over to the room where Jamie's body lay.
The flames flickered and spread, releasing huge plumes of black smoke. I watched the burning farmhouse fade into the distance and then glanced at the murderer in the driver's seat beside me. He glanced at me but didn't smile. He didn't speak either.
I imagined how I might be able to make him crash the car and hopefully get us killed, but he had tied my wrists pretty tightly. One wrist was tied to the car door handle. The other one was tied behind my head to the headrest.
Forty minutes later, we pulled into another farmhouse. This one a little more run down and patched up.
"This is my place," the man said, clearing his throat and looking at me. "You can relax here. You'll be safe. No one will harm you. All I ask is that you don't kill yourself and help me out around the place."
"No promises," I told him.
"At least you're honest," the man sighed. "Seriously, I don't know if his is a good idea or not. Anyway, make yourself at home. Stay here first. Let me go clear up a room and bed for you. I'll carry your stuff in. And then I'll release you and we can go for a tour."
He didn't wait for me to answer. Just got out of the car and started carrying the loot into his house. He was inside for an hour before returning, holding my hand and taking me on a guided tour of the house and farm.
"I won't starve you as long as you do women work and help out. If you're good and obedient, then we'll get along just fine. If you still really want to die after a few months or if you get desperate, just say the word. I'll take you out back and bury you all quiet like. Otherwise, I'd appreciate the company."
I shrugged.
It was all the same to me.
Having shown me around, the man took me into the kitchen to make lunch. He kept a close eye on me and seemed pleased to see that I followed his instructions without complaint. Then he took me out to get me to help him with his chores, his mood seeming to brighten more and more as the day went on, until he was whistling a tune.
We cooked dinner together and then we showered together, got ready for bed together. He hesitated before leaving me alone in my room, but in the end, still decided to turn around and go back to his own room.
Minutes later, he returned to find me tying a noise in a rope I had taken from the barn. Shaking his head with a sigh, he took the rope from my unresisting hands and pulled me along where he hugged me to sleep in his bed.
I didn't sleep. And when I did, he kept waking me up to rescue me from my dreams. Come morning, he looked at me with bleary, accusing eyes. But he didn't complain.
Instead, he got us out of bed, got me dressed and took me to help him with the day's chores. In the afternoon, when the sun was hottest, he took me to have a nap before it was time for the evening chores.
And just like that, our days fell into a routine.
We spent all our time together and the man seemed intent on teaching me all sorts of interesting things about running a farm. In bed at night, although he sometimes touched or kissed me, he didn't do anymore than that. I didn't know why and didn't ask.
He soon found that as long as he gave me a list of tasks to do, I would focus on getting my work done and wouldn't think of dying. It was only when I was left idle with nothing to do that my thoughts would deviate and run rampant.
Autumn came and we spent a busy time with the harvest, pickling and storying things, preparing for the long winter. Apparently it was common to have long blizzards that prevented us from going out for days during winter, and so everything had to be well prepared. Long rope rails were set up so that when we had to go out into the storm to do the chores, we wouldn't get lost.
He took me into town too, to buy me clothes of my own that fit me, to sell some of his produce, and prepare enough winter clothes for me. He also insisted on bringing me to the doctor's.
The doctor frowned after hearing what the man said about me, discussing a treatment plan with the man while I looked out the window. Afterwards, I was taken to have tests done and then we went home, after the man treated me to a pub meal and chatted with a few acquaintances, introducing me as his girl.
The next day, the doctor called us back into town, wanting to urgently discuss the test results with us. I sat and looked out the window, only half listening to what the doctor was saying.
"Darling, darling," someone patted my cheek. "Darling, pay attention. The doctor's talking to you."
I tried to focus but only heard two words before my mind wandered again, resulting in sighs. Soon, they began talking about my history and how the man had found me. The man didn't talk about how he had shot Ramie, but he did say how he found me under a dead man who had a hole in him and pulled me out of the burning house.
The doctor looked at us both with a troubled expression.
"You do realise that this is a matter for the police to get involved in? I'm going to have to make a report."
The man looked at me and then at the doctor, seeming conflicted.
"Then I'll leave her with you. Don't get me involved."
"You can't leave her here either," the doctor said, equally conflicted. "The police will want to talk to you. Even if you leave her here, they'll still come and find you for more details."
"Can you not report it then?" the man asked with a frown. "I don't want any trouble."
"Now that you've told me about it, I have a duty to report it unless Darling shows that she can make her own decisions."
"Did you hear that, darling?" the man nudged me. "What do you want to do?" He thought for a bit while I stared at him. "Do you want to go home? I can send you home to your parents." He turned to the doctor. "If I send her home to her parents, you won't report it, right?"
The doctor gave a slow nod.
"As long as you can take her to somewhere where there will be responsible people to take care of her and see to her medical needs, then I won't report it. But her next doctor needs to send me back a report saying he's taking over her case. Otherwise, I'll still report it."
"Darling, where do your parents live?"
That was digging at some deep and buried memories. It took a while to remember, but eventually the address spilled out.
Both men took a sharp intake of breath.
"That's so far away. You'd better fly her over," the doctor said.
"She has no identification," the man admitted. I made up a name to register her in the clinic to see you. "I don't actually know her real name. I've just been taking care of her ever since I found her. I couldn't leave her on her own."
"Darling," the doctor addressed me. "Do you remember the mobile numbers for either of your parents?"
That too, was a dusty memory. I couldn't recall. Only the first four numbers.
"Then where do your parents work? Maybe we can get to their work place?"
That I could tell them, although I wasn't sure if my parents were still working there.
The doctor looked relieved and began making phone calls until I heard the sound of my father's voice. I perked up, sitting a little straighter, focus and light flooding my being with hope and expectation. I gripped the man's hand tight.
The phone was put on loudspeaker and my throat went tight.
"Daddy..." I managed to squeeze out after a long moment.
"Baby? Weila, where are you? Are you ok?"
"Daddy... Daddy, I want to go home..."
And I broke down.