The Dark Room

Now here’s a dark scenario, which kept me awake in the early hours of the morning one night last week. (Do any of the rest of the writers out there find yourself waking with an idea in mind, then unable to doze back off until you’ve filled in the gaps in the plot?). Sometimes my imagination goes to places that I find somewhat scary…

Two girls. Trafficked? Kidnapped? Forced into some form of sexual slavery, against their will, for sure. (See, I said it was dark).

One girl had arrived in the house before the friend with whom she’s sharing a room. She’d been punished, severely, a day or two before her roommate appeared. The second girl had looked at the weals on her new friend’s back, traced her fingers along the marks, aghast. “They took me to the Dark Room,” came the explanation. An argument; a fight; they’d overpowered her, dragged her downstairs. Taken her into a dark, cold space, flashlights illuminating their way. Slapped her face. Stripped her. Chained her to the wall; left her lying their on the cold stone, in the pitch black, understanding that they were serious when they told her that, “This time, you won’t forget the punishment.”

How long she’d been there, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she was alone, hurting, uncomfortable, scared – for many hours on end. And that to stop her drifting into sleep, the door had been opened from time to time, and a jet of the coldest, icy water had fired at her from the unforgiving hose – before they left her alone again to fear what might happen.

When they had finally illuminated the room, the light had been too bright for her to bear. They’d forced her to her feet; hoisted her hands above her head; bound her on tiptoes with rope; whipped her, mercilessly, each agonising cut striping her more painfully than she would have imagined possible. And then they’d untied her, and taken her back to her room, flinging her onto the bed without further word of what they’d done.

The second girl had listened, shaking. Terrified, she’d obeyed their every instruction, even when they’d led her off to ‘induct’ her – each of her captors and more abusing her brutally in every way imaginable.

Yet now, there were two men in the door. One grabbed the first girl roughly by the hair. “We have a gentleman who’d like to see you. You’re to co-operate with his every wish. His every instruction.” And the second took the newer arrival: “And you’re coming to the Dark Room. Don’t worry: we’ll let you out without a flogging, if your friend here keeps our client happy…”