Archive for August, 2012
After another indefinite amount of time, Ala’s eyes opened, only because light was making its way through the burlap and into the crevices between her eyelids. The front of her head was burning with pain she had self inflicted by bashing her skull into the ground repeatedly. Her body smelled of the sweat that had sunk back into her pores, as if a fever had broke, which made her wonder how it must feel to be covered in afterbirth.
Her hearing was distorted by a low buzzing. She could sense that she was in a place that had a healthy flow of fresh air. She tried to suck the air into her lungs through the mask as quickly as possible. The obvious change in location made her feel better, even though her ankles and hands were still bound. Still though, this environment offered a small ounce of freedom with the air and the light.
Someone may have been trying to scare her, or send some kind of message, and had changed their minds is what she hoped. Perhaps gradually, she would obtain additional small freedoms, until finally being released. She brought her tongue to the roof of her mouth and rubbed it against her gums, trying to generate saliva. She had not had water during her run or since and was aware that she could die from dehydration.
More than one set of heavy soled footsteps approached and she squeezed her eyes shut. The sack was ripped from her head, burning the skin on her face. The ability to focus her vision brought on a headache. She looked at her captors, reminding herself to take note of all of their features and details in their clothing to later tell the authorities.
She felt her insides shrink up as she braced herself for the punishment. Sure enough, a hand reached up under the sack and pulled her hair four times, each pull harder than the last.
There was more laughter. The first two tugs hurt and she chomped on her bottom lip to keep from crying. Strangely, by the time the last tug was over, she couldn’t feel anything. Her whole scalp was numb. If he took out clumps of hair, she had no idea.
The man then ran his hand along the front of her neck and clenched it. She was not choking, but could not move and feared that he would snap it.
“You’ve got a problem listening.” He dug his fingernails into her skin. Again, after the first few seconds, there was no pain. She wondered if these men had intentions of killing her. If not, there may not be anything they could do to her that was scarier than what she had already been through. If they did want to kill her, why hadn’t they already? He held her head in place and brought his face up against the sack. She could feel his breath on her chin. “Now you’ve got nothing to say?”
“Not to you,” she said quietly. He squeezed tighter, then pushed her head back, so it hit the wall. He muttered something to his partner and they walked out, closing the metal gate behind them.
Her risky behavior wasn’t accruing unspeakable consequences. Being kidnapped was surely the most offensive assault against her, but she had the feeling the worst was over. Soon, she would know the reason why this had happened and would figure out a way to get out, just like in every other situation.
Ala awoke some time later to rough hands pulling her body up, exposing her midsection. Instinctually, she tried to bring her hands around her body to cover herself, but found that they were still bound tight. Someone else heaved her body up and she was carried off.
She had hoped to wake up to her real life. Her ankles and wrists hung limp and were sore. She heard her back crack in several places as the, who she presumed to be men, held tight and then metal sliding on a track. The temperature dropped radically as they entered.
They threw her body to the ground, which felt like cold stone and she began to shiver. A lump in her throat quivered as she tried to find the right words to ask why they were doing this to her and where she was. All that she could get out was a tiny squeal.
A toe from a heavy shoe or boot came crashing against the arch of her foot. Pain spiraled up to her knee.
“Shut up bitch woman,” the voice she had heard earlier, said. She heard laughter, most likely from the other man.
She thought of junior high school, when she was not permitted to participate in a debate match because the length of her skirt was too short, according to the assistant principal. She was called into his office, where he paced back and forth, lecturing her about how she representing the school and herself in her wardrobe choices. Every time she tried to defend herself, he would pound on the desk. He refused to let her say one word. She eventually stood up, kicked the chair over and stormed out of the office.
She wasn’t sure if the fear of her unpredictability was what kept him quiet, but there were no further consequences for her actions. Now of course, she was unable to move and unable to stop vibrating with anger. She could not let this pig silence her.
“No!” She said in the loudest voice she could find.