Gomorra - Back in the Game

Five Years Earlier – New York

A terrifying sound echoes inside the room, reverberating against the walls with anguish and lament. It takes a while for me to realize it’s coming from my throat, as everything consumes me. The pain, my suffering, the fear, and the humiliation, all drag me into hell. Blood drains from my body, the warm urine leaking between my legs makes the small burns on my thighs sting even more. My mind fades in and out, leaving only my limp body on the floor, until I reach a point where I no longer feel pain—I feel nothing, to be honest, just the void of a dead soul.

Through my eyes, blurred with tears, sweat, and blood stuck to my face, I see him sit at the edge of the bed, his trembling fingers dropping the small knife to the floor, stained with my blood. I don’t remember anything else, just the darkness that pulls me in with every blink. I glance weakly around the room, while the open cut on my abdomen spills blood. There’s only a sign of the two of us in here. I pass out three more times before coming back to the hellish reality I’m trapped in. I drag my body, like a worm that’s been crushed but still fights to survive, writhing slowly across the floor until I reach the wall. I sit there, adjusting my vision to the dark, my ankles tied together. The unbearable smell of my feces and alcohol mixed with my urine fills the air, making me feel a sickening urge. I turn my head to the side and vomit until only the salty, bitter taste of bile burns my throat. The air becomes heavy, making my chest ache with each breath. I raise my arms, tied at the wrists, to my lips and use them to wipe my face, pushing the vomit-stained hair away from my mouth. A movement in the other corner of the room catches my attention as the bed creaks. I hear his heavy breathing as he stands up and switches on the lamp beside him.

"I tried to be patient, I was good to you," he says slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on me. "Now you know you are nothing; you are only what I allow you to be." He spits on the floor in disgust.

He walks toward me, lifting me by my shoulders with force, causing a grotesque scream of pain and despair to tear from my throat as my body is pulled upright.

"Who do you belong to, Mabel?" he asks, bringing his forehead close to mine, speaking softly, rubbing the tip of his nose against my face, making me close my eyes with the anxiety his touch causes. "Say the name of the one your body belongs to, say who it owes obedience to."

His face pulls away as he gives a cold smile. His eyes scan my bruised body, then return to my eyes. My lips press together, and I bite down hard until I feel my teeth breaking the skin.

"Speak!" he demands, gripping my shoulders even tighter, clenching his jaw. "Say my name, say who you belong to, Mabel!"

I said his name at the beginning, when my body was thrown to the floor, and he kicked me; I said his name in the middle, when he raped and beat me; I said his name with every shock he gave me, with every damn way he destroyed me, violating my body and soul, between the tears, the pain, and the screams that tore through my throat, begging him to stop. I screamed his name through the agonizing pain with every slide of the knife's tip across my belly as he cut me.

But I won’t say his name in the end!

My mouth opens, releasing my lips from my teeth, and I spit, hurling a ball of blood and saliva in his face, giving him my answer. He shakes me violently, making my whole body tremble with pain.

"My body belongs only to me!" I scream at the top of my lungs, staring at him.

His arm releases my shoulder and swings into the air, returning with fury as he slaps me across the face, throwing me to the ground.

"Stubborn bitch!"

I fall face down, feeling the impact of the rough floor against my wounded body. Heavy footsteps follow behind me, and he crouches down. I try to get up, but he pins me down and climbs on top of me.

"No, it doesn’t. And before the end, before it's all over, you'll know that it never belonged to you, because you were made for me!"

I feel him yank my hair hard, gripping the strands between his fingers. I struggle, but my body freezes when I feel him forcing his cock into my anus, already injured from all the vile violation he’s put me through.

I start screaming.

I pound the floor desperately with my tied hands. He pulls my head back, pressing it against his chest. His other hand squeezes my breast with brutality. His vile mouth sucks on my ear, making my body respond to him, knowing that every movement of his will make my body betray me. He thrusts his pelvis against my backside, driving his cock deeper into my body. My face is soaked with tears, and my scream is one of despair, pain—everything spins around me, everything is lost in his savagery. I struggle fiercely, but it’s not enough to stop him. The pain of him entering my body is unbearable, agonizing, tearing me apart from the inside out. His cock begins to move, in and out, thrusting harder, then slowing down. He bites my neck until his teeth break the thin skin and crushes my breasts. One of his hands reaches my pussy, rubbing circles on my clit as he moves with force and brutality. I cry in horror, hatred, disgust for myself, because above all, the worst isn’t the pain, but the damnation of my own body, which responds to him. I feel the pain consuming my body, mixing with a sickening pleasure. I taste the salty tears streaming into my mouth. The bite on my neck throbs. He had destroyed me with every second of pain he inflicted, but it was the pleasure that damned my soul.

A part of me will never leave this room; it had been silenced, disfigured. A part of me was born from the shadows, like a poison that annihilates everything inside me—my innocence, my youth, my dreams.

A part of me had died, and a cursed demon was left in its place, a plague that would haunt my life forever.