Chapter 1
Time flows and moves as it pleases, never stopping or changing. It weaves itself through space and is a perfect and seamless tapestry, mapping everything that has or will exist. It as no beginning, no ending, and is not always kind, but through its persistence we can find comfort. Time will always move on, whether we do or not. Through this though we form the question; if time always moves, never stopping, never slowing, and never showing mercy, then why do we, as humans, strive to find some cosmic way to overcome its impossible force?
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4 Years Ago
The constant drip from the sewer made her concussion throb. The stray hairs tickled her bruised neck every time her body moved. The agony of her near naked body as it hung just nearly off the floor was a constant reminder of exactly where she was. In the center of the desert with no directional landmarks, no backup, and nobody knowing she was missing.
The sound of boots on the concrete hallway brought her back to full awareness. A broken rib rubbed at something inside her abdomen as she tried to brush the floor with her toes enough to swing her body around, wanting to face whoever was entering. The door slammed open, spilling harsh florescent lighting into the room. Before she could turn her head she felt the tip of the whip hit the skin on her back. Fresh pain bloomed over her whole body. The light spilling in from the doorway blinded her as another lash hit. Four, crack, five, crack, six, crack. ‘Only seven’ she thought. They must be feeling merciful today.
“Perhaps today, whore, you will break like your bones. And your men.” It was the slimy one that always smelled like grease and onion sweat. She could almost taste his disgusting odor through the air as he breathed down her neck.
“Probably not,” she barked out, her voice cracking from the dehydration and her screams. “But if it helps you feel better about yourself, I suppose, then you can always pretend.” More cracks from the whip, lower this time. New pain grew on her thighs and ass. After his temper tantrum was put in check, he got closer, breathing on her.
“You will break. We make all men break.”
“But I am no man,” she said. As quickly as he came, he stomped out with his ruined pride, slamming the metal door as he went. The light was gone, but her brain still stung. The darkness was the only comfort now.
Drip, drip, drip.
The tears began not long after the stings from the whip set in. They weren't spilling over, but precious water gathered in her eyes nonetheless. No! She must not cry. She must not break. Every time they made someone brake, precious secrets fell from their lips. Lives of innocent people lost with their will to live. She is a storm. She is nature. So long as she did not break she would live. She would live, and she would go home. Percy dangled there, feet only just brushing the ground beneath her, and thought of home. Of her nieces with their toothless smiles, and grandpa with his twinkling eyes, and her little flat with her books and her paintings, and Ethan, with his warmth and his freckles and his silly coffee drinks that he loves, and home. She wanted to just go home. Not yet though, there was work to be done. She held still and thought. She plotted. She planned.
She is nature. She is a storm. She would never break. She hoped.