Chapter 11: The Wrong Hands

                                    

                                          
**Mature content ahead – reader discretion advised**
Illika
Water sways back and forth...
Back and forth...
Back and forth...
Over and over again. Back – one, two, three – and forth – one, two three. Back – one, two, three – and forth – one, two, three. Rinse and repeat. Over and over.
I stand with bare feet dug into the warm sand as the setting sun bathes me in its gentle glow. A breeze rolls in off the waves, spraying sea salt on my face. The taste of salt lingers on my lips and meets my tongue. And the crashing of waves is like a song hummed by the sea.
It stretches far and wide – just a mighty and great vastness of black water. It almost reminds me of the water in England. That water had been so dark and murky, but also so beautiful and mysterious. And under the halo of England's winter sun, it had looked all that much more beautiful.
Seafoam crawls up the sand, reaching my toes. It is chilly, but not cold. I smile and take a step into it. The water laps at my ankles, splashing and gurgling.
And suddenly, within an instance, I am yanked from that seashore and transported into another place. A much darker and grimmer place.
Tall concrete walls stand windowless, and bleak as dead lights swing overhead. Exposed pipes hiss and shift as this creepy place settles. And darkness... God, the darkness is all around, surrounding and drowning me.
I am seated naked on the floor and my arms are tied together. Chains are linked all around my body, weighing me down and keeping me immobile. My skin is caked in dirt, and my hair is matted with filth.
Where am I? What is this place?
Panic grips my chest as I search, glimpsing around the dreary room. I don't even know what I'm looking for. A way out? Somewhere to hide? But how? I am trapped in rope and chains, left helpless. Even as I try to shake myself free, it is hopeless. I cannot escape.
Hot breath rolls against the back of my neck. Chills run the length of my spine and fall to the pit of my stomach as I turn and see the grinning face of Asahi. I don't know how I know that it's him, but I do, and I am repulsed.
I try to shrug away and put distance between us, but his hands weave around my waist, pulling me closer. I cringe, feeling the heat of his bare chest simmer against my back. His lips come to the side of my neck, kissing as disgust rumbles in my stomach.
Revolted, I try once again to pull away, my mouth open as I ready myself to unleash a hellish scream. However, as I sit here with him against me – feeling and touching me in places I wish he wouldn't – nothing comes out. Not a shout, not a yell, not even a whisper. I am here, screaming, but not screaming, muted like some kind of silent film.
His hands wander, his fingers tiptoeing to the front of me, creeping closer and closer to my slit. Dread consumes me, and I try to scream again to no avail. Closer and closer still. More silent wails. Closer and closer...
My eyes flutter open.
My pulse is strumming in my ears like a wild drum as my heart hammers against my ribs. My chest is rising quickly and heavily and my vision – which I hadn't realized had been blurred – is starting to clear.
Above, the white ceiling is tinted gray, blanketed by the late evening. A few little lights are cast by the monitors and other machines as little chirps of said machines break through the silence, and I am reminded of where I am. The ICU unit in the medical wing. And as I glance around at an empty room, I find it safe to assume I'm the only one.
With a sigh and a few grunts – and a lot of muscles and bones screaming – I manage to sit up. My body is stiff and sore, and I just know that my chest and stomach are all littered with bruises. The aches deep in my muscles tell me so.
My eyes wander to the windows. Outside, night has fallen over the PLF's property, allowing me to see the shimmering lights of Musutafu in the near distance. Wonderous and beautiful. Stunning, really, but even so, it does little to chase the edge from my mind.
It was a dream. It was just a horrible, horrible dream. Even so, my right hand is still gripping the hem of my blanket as my body trembles as a lump lies solid in my throat.
Honestly, I don't remember much from before. I know everything up until right before I was rescued. I remember the accident. I remember being taken by the twins. I remember being trapped in some building. Hell, I even remember them talking about selling me off. However, that final day...
I don't really remember much from that day. I was saved. That much I know. But beyond that? It's all splotchy. I don't know what happened, which is more terrifying than I care to admit.
But that dream...
God, I hope it's not revealing some twisted thing that my memory is trying to forget. I pray that's not the case, but the truth is, it could very well be the case. It's sickening to even consider, but a reality all the same.
Was I victimized like that? I hope not. I pray that's not what happened. But could it be a possibility?
Unfortunately, yes.

**Bello lovelies! Another day, another chapter. Looks like Illika had a nightmare, and it seems she doesn't recall what happened that last day. That would be scary. Don't worry, she will be getting answers soon. And those of you that didn't read the reveals at the end of the other author notes, so will you! And once again, please remember that things like this do happen in real life and they are very serious. No one deserves to go through anything like this – regardless of if they were intoxicated, or despite whatever they were wearing, or whatever other excuse people try to pin on them. These people are survivors and deserve respect. WE ALL DO. So, continue to be kind to yourself and others. Always! Keep being the light that you are and I will see you in the next chapter! Wuv yous!! <3**
-Noel Ross