Victim of Circumstance | UNDER RIGOROUS EDITING

Chapter 22- He Started & Didn't Stop

||Valeria||

TWO YEARS AGO!

It's dark. It smells of cleaning detergents. My throat is constricting. I can't breathe. I start shivering. Ventilating hard at the close, confine space.

I'm claustrophobic and they-he-knows it. I don't know how he found out it but he did and he is using it against me. I didn't realize until now he can be that rotten, mean and wretched. I never knew he was such a backboneless fart, who shamelessly wages a war against a girl. Using her weakness for his advantage. And for what? To sate his bloody pride. Just to find a way to break me. Degrade me.

I stumble into something, bringing me back to my status quo, as a loud cluttering sound of the objects echo throughout the dark room as they make connection with the floor. I'm feeling it again. The heaviness of the air inside here, my trembling legs, as they quiver. I can feel the stinging at the back of my eyes. I hate this. I hate this feeling. Feeling of weakness. This feeling of unhopeful powerlessness. It's primary all over again. Primary where I got bullied for being black. For being different from the rest. Now we are back at it again. I thought all will be okay at high school. But no. I was highly mistaken. And unlike primary, these is extreme and grim. He wants to break me. He wants to show me his superiority.

The escape of a fractured sob, brings my internal scuffle to an instant halt. I sink down to ground as I give into the emotions busting up my being into consummate inferno. The barrage of tears scarpering away from my eyes is an indication of my state.

The longer I remain in this cursed place-janitors closet- the faster I succumb to the inevitable, losing consciousness as the sound of odd noises, cult and occult images and every picture that's gruesome and grueling flashes through my mind.
I can hear the snickering outside the door. I know they-he-can hear me. He wants me to give into to his torture. He wants to see me broken and at his mercy. He wants to show me how powerful he can be. He wants to show me how much influence he has. But I'll not give into and give him the satisfaction of buckling under his torture.

I close my eyes, giving into the insistent tears, as they cascade down my cheeks. I don't know I've been crying, just stuck inside this smelly snake's pit, wafted by the smell of all things unpleasant when it comes to the department of aroma.

I don't know when I lost consciousness to the power of sleep, still balling my eyes out, but I'm woken by the sound of keys outside. The door opens at last and my blood red eyes connect with dark brown of the devils incarnation. I don't wanna know how he has those keys. I don't wanna know anything. I just wanna leave these place and forget every shit I'm going through.

He enters the room and flicks on the light to illuminate the room. He closes the door behind him and sinks down to the floor. He takes in the room, as he moves his eyeballs through the racks of cleaning materials, brooms, plates, buckets, mops. He finally ends his needless gawking and reconnect his eyes to mine and my heart skips a beat. His face is somber. I can see his eyes glazing in hatred, fuming with intense aversion towards me.

"I. Hate. You." He grits between his teeth. "You're pathetic, cheap, lose skank. You might've all the money in the world, but that won't make the fact any less what it is. The truth. You can take a black person out poverty but you can never take poverty out of a black person." His chest reverberates into a dry scornful laugh. "This is just the beginning. Do you know how easy it was to find out you were claustrophobic and that was it for me to enact my plan. You redefine the meaning of nauseating and disgusting. Grossness--"