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be anywhere near other humans because they would have heard her screaming; they would have called the police.
    He hit her so much she thought her skin was on fire. When he stopped she wanted to thank God, but she couldn’t. She could only think of what stopping meant. Maybe he was trying to think of what other angle he could hit her from. Maybe he was unwrapping the belt so that he could wrap it from the smooth end and beat her with the buckle. She felt tears sliding down her face with such high velocity that she thought she would cry herself to death from sheer dehydration.
    He walked around to the front of her and hit her across her chest and stomach and she twisted more, causing more cuts into her wrists. It felt like forever before he dropped the belt to the floor. She feared what he would use this time, but fear of being beat turned into fear of being raped when he tugged at her fitted shirt-vest and ripped it from her body.
    “Trash day,” he said happily. “Gotta’ take the trash out before the neighbors wake up.”
    She watched as he wrapped her shirt in the rug that was off to the side of her. It already had some blood on it. Had they done this before? No, it wasn’t enough blood for that. It had to be the blood that dripped out of his nose or something. Had he brought her into this—house? Yes, it had to be a house given the fact he said it was trash day and he mentioned neighbors waking up. So either nobody could hear her screaming from what she was now sure was a basement, or nobody cared enough to call 9-1-1. Either way, she was stuck in hell without escape. It was still either the same night or early the next morning which meant she hadn’t been missing long enough for anybody to really know and file a report. She could be dead by noon and nobody would even know she was missing.
    She heard him trudging up the stairs and the door squeak open and closed once more.
    “God please help me?” She cried. She was in so much pain right now, felt so much fear and desperation that she wondered if she would survive this. She was still bleeding from all the cuts from the twisting. She couldn’t see her back but the heat of the flame of pain made her wonder if the leather had torn through her shirt and flesh while he was beating her like a dead horse just for the fun of it. Tears turned into sobs of sorrow. Sorrow turned into finality. There was no way she was going to make it out of this alive.
    It wasn’t long before the door opened and closed again, before that beast they called a man came back down the stairs, picked up his belt and started beating her again. Each time the strap hit her back now, without the protection of the thin layer of fabric her shirt had provided as comfort, it hurt even more. Her bra strap felt as if it were being beaten in to her flesh, like the hooks and eyes would become imbedded in her skin. She couldn’t curtail the screams no matter how much she didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he was hurting her.
    He never seemed to get tired. It was like his arm was made of steel that wouldn’t tire from repeated use. She didn’t know how long he beat her before he stopped and walked back to the front of her.
    “I hope you’ll still be pretty enough for boss man to finish breaking you. I didn’t mess up your face too much.” He sauntered closer and dug his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back from its hung position so that she was forced to look at him and smell his rotten breath as he hovered lower for face to face battery of her olfactory system.
    “But when he’s done with you,” he blew his breath into her face and she cringed, trying to turn away from the skunk and rotten apples like smell but he held on tighter to her hair and made her keep her face tilted toward his. “When he’s done with you I’ll break all your pretty little bones one by one.” He stepped back and began to beat the belt across her stomach and chest. She twisted and tried to escape