The cold water bit into me as I was plunged into the water. His hands held my neck tightly, my skin throbbed under his fingers. My heart beat faster and faster as the lack of oxygen began to take it's toll on my body. My legs throbbed and my heart relentlessly carried on pumping harder and harder almost as if it was trying to rip itself out of my chest. A spark of temptation, to take a breath, give in, lit up in my head. No. I couldn't I didn't want to die knowing my poor frail mother would never know the truth. I didn't want her to get away with this. I didn't want him to win. I wanted to get out of this place to see the smile on my parents faces and embrace the love and safety that I had once known.
But imagine the look on their faces when they hear of the shame I hold.
My ears hurt, the blood is pounding in my veins. Don't think I can last any longer. Need to breath. Oxygen. Can't struggle anymore. My hands shake as I try to get his hands off me. I hear his satisfied laugh art my feeble attempts to release myself.
Then he pulls me out. Coughing and spluttering I fall onto the hard stone floor, choking on my own tongue. The air gushes into my lungs, it feels like they are burning, but I don't care I just keep gulping it down, afraid it's going to be taken away again.
I am on my knees in front of him. Almost like he's a god. But he isn't. God is salvation. If anything he is the darkness.
When I am alone at night in that dark, damp room I look out of the cracks in the shutters and I pray that God will save me from him. Perhaps he hasn't heard. Or maybe I deserve this. It hurts more now. Not just physically.
So now here I am on my knees in this cold room. Shaking looking down. He strokes my hair and I now know I am the only one who will scream tonight.
