Read Trigger Warning: Extreme Horror: Contains Strong Sexual Content, Violence, Drug Use, and Language. for Free Online Page B

intended): the tile floor cracked into chunks. Two out of the three porcelain sinks smashed and dripping shit-water and all three with rusted spouts and handles. The soap dispensers full of black grime and…maggots? Jesus Christ . Blood-spotted paper towels and blood-filled syringes litter the floor. I feel like I’ve contracted a disease just by walking in here.
    No urinals, only a stall with BATTERY ACID scratched into the peeling grey paint. (When I was young, I always pissed in the stall anyway. I valued my privacy).
    The stall door is broken off (so much for privacy), hanging out in a dark corner against one of the smashed sinks. And I’m thinking there must be a way out there must be a way out for god’s sake I’m out of the fucking chamber!
    Your torture will be ten times worse. Hehehehehe.
    I pull my limp dick from my pants—so hard and throbbing hours, days, months? ago, when I was with Angela. ( That fucking whore! )
    I look down into the steel mouth of the toilet…
    …a severed penis.
    Floating there in the brown water.
    I suck in a cry of terror and I can’t piss. No matter how hard I try I can’t get my bladder to loosen. It’s full, so full it hurts, but I can’t. I bite my lip, crying, trying not to look at the dick floating in the dirty toilet water like a long white turd.
    I claw at the stall, which has drawings of cut-off penises carved into the paint (blood gushing out the aft ends), and slowly start to urinate, but it goes all over the floor, the seat, anywhere but the bowl…
    …I bite down harder and my lip bleeds and I piss straight into the steel mouth and I can hear it hitting the murky water, and then the sound muffles, like rain on the roof, and when I open my eyes, I’m pissing on the cut-off dick and it’s bobbing up and down in the shit-water.
     
     
     
    Erica
    Lying on a bed, my shattered wrists and ankles bound to the bedposts, a dirty handkerchief tied tightly around my head, the filthy cotton violating my mouth…I try uselessly to bite through it. It tastes like gasoline and oil.
    I’m crying, twisting in the restraints (which only reignites the screaming pain in my broken bones), my brain spinning, my soul plummeting…into the darkest of voids. I’ve never known such fear. Even when my ex used to tie me up and I didn’t know what he’d do to me, I never felt such fear. Sometimes he’d be gentle…other times he’d burn me with cigarettes, call me a cunt, slap and hit me. He was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He made Christian Grey look like a Mormon missionary. You never knew who you were going to be sleeping with that night. Part of it was thrilling, but mostly, it was scary and I was afraid to leave him. Afraid he’d rape and kill me. But for fuck’s sake, he’d already been doing the former for years, hadn’t he? But maybe I deserved it because I didn’t say no. My daddy always said that a boyfriend couldn’t rape you, because a boyfriend had the right to fuck you whenever he wanted. Told me that if you got a man started, you had to finish him. Told me that you couldn’t kiss a boy without him fucking you. That’s why I never kissed a boy until I was 19. But I guess daddy was right. When I kissed Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde fucked me…and I let him, because it was my fault for starting it.
    My daddy told me that if I didn’t want it, I was a prude.
    Told me to widen my horizons and spread my legs. 
    I never fought back; there was no point.
    People were going to use you, no matter what.
    Your body was not yours, only others to hit, slap, and rape.
    Might as well accept it.
    A montage of abuse spins before my eyes, as if viewed through a zoetrope. So many faces…all with that awful, lustful glean in their vacant eyes. Eyes like windows—which did not offer a glimpse into the soul, but only unfathomable depths of darkness.
    And despite all I’ve been through, all the shit I’ve waded through, all the hurt I’ve been subjected to, all the bruises, the limping, the