Stuck in a Moment

She licked her lips. Her throat was parched. She thought back to the last time liquid had passed down her throat. It seemed like eons ago. In actuality it had only been two seconds. She saw the jug of water and empty glass on the kitchen counter out of the corner of her eye. She contemplated lunging for it, almost as if it were a final shield, the last wall between her and what was to come. But she couldn't. She seemed to be rooted to the spot.

She could smell her own fear.

She knew she must go in soon. He would be expecting her. She could see a sliver of the room through the door from where she stood. He had dimmed the lights and thrown the room into a complete shadow of darkness. Ingenious, she thought. She had always loathed darkness. It would always seem to envelop her, press on her shoulders like some heavy burden, on her throat like some murderer. She would choke, suffocate in the darkness, tonight. He knew this. And she wouldn't be able to see what he was doing to her, only feel it. Maybe that would be better?

It would be excruciatingly painful, though. She knew that much.

She could make out his silhouette. He had left the door ajar just so that she could see he was naked. He would have no trouble, she knew. He was familiar with her body, just as she was familiar with the pain. This routine was regular. She had been surprised how well he had found his own way around her the first time, though. She had realized only much later that he would have done this to many women before her. When she had, she had been sick. Right into the kitchen dustbin, the very same that was lying a few feet away from her now. Overcome with waves of disgust and abhorrence. It wasn't the fact that he had experience, it was that he hadn't bothered telling her just how much.

The same emotions coursed through her veins now. She could almost feel the steamy waves of her intense disgust coming off of her. Her fear had morphed into hate.

She knew her job. It was simple enough, to say the very least. All she needed to do was go in, quickly strip and lie down. He would take all the work upon himself. But he would be brutal, forceful and rapid. And he would try something different every time. Inflicting pain on her seemed to give him some kind of savage pleasure. His latest indulgence had cost her quite a bit. She would wake up with blue-black bruises all over her arms, legs and torso. Especially legs.
She had had to completely cover her body to go to work, and it was the height of summer. It would always raise uninvited questions.

She knew he would do something similar today. She could feel it.

She realized that she had been standing there too long. She put away her fear, her hate, and braced herself for the pain. When it came to him, what choice did she have? She would get used to it, she coaxed herself.

She knew it was a lie.

She took a step forward.