“Stop,” Hassan ordered.

The chain froze, and I was standing on tiptoe.

“One word is yours, and the torture will stop,” he approached me again, “Before it's too late, obey, acknowledge yourself to be my slave, and me to be your master.” I promise that I will never remember you the audacity that you allowed yourself. I will fulfill my obeshanie. You will be the first slave.

- You yourself, then realized what he said? - I laughed.

Hassan stepped aside. Then I felt that my legs are not holding anything. Once in my childhood I was engaged in acrobatics and made somersaults from this position. I strained the muscles of the arms and, overcoming the pain, pulled up and scrolled, letting my already not childish ass between hands.

I guessed that there was someone else in the cell, but why did he not interfere with my actions? Seeing my trick, Hassan, snarling in anger, rushed at me. Having flown, he hit me hard in the jaw. Strange, but I almost did not feel the pain, only felt the salty taste of blood in my mouth. Having collected more saliva, I spat in the face of this schizo, as Martha did then.

Hassan roared like a wounded beast, and again wanted to pounce on me. Pulling my legs up to my stomach, I put my feet on the abdomen’s abdomen and sharply pushed him away. Hassan flew off the wall and began to crawl down. The man behind my back grunted in surprise, but that was all he did.

The unrecognized gentleman, groaning, rose to his feet and again headed towards me. I wanted to repeat my reception, but he predicted my intentions and grabbed one leg. Then I hit him hard in the second groin.

Hassan howled so much that I almost went deaf. Crouching in half, he hobbled over to the chair and slowly sank into it.

- Beach! - He roared, turning to the assistant, - Beat her, until he dies!

“You can do it yourself,” said an unfamiliar voice, “You're tired of me.”

I heard footsteps, then the sound of a slammed door, and everything was quiet. Hassan looked at me puzzled, then at the door, then, for some reason, between his legs. Catching his breath, he slowly got up and headed towards me again, but stopped outside my feet.

“Surrender,” groaned Hassan, “Or I will have to kill you.”

“Oh, Lord,” I laughed, “What syllable!” Worthy of Shakespeare! Well, give out something else! Though I laugh before death.

“Do not mock me,” said Hassan seriously, “I, too, have a hard time.”

With these words, he moved behind my back and loosened the chain.

“Get some rest,” he said, returning.

“Thank you, I'm not tired,” I scoffed.

- Well, you and bitch! - groaned Hassan, - Do not try my patience!

- Fuck you! - I even turned away from this idiot.

Hassan sighed heavily. I saw that he was tormented by something, was haunted, gnawing from the inside, but now I didn’t feel sorry for him at all. Suddenly he turned to me sharply and spoke clearly:

- Do you want me to tell you about my life?

- What for? - I snickered. - Do you think that it will be interesting to me?

“And you listen,” Hassan insisted. “You might be interested.”

“Then maybe unhook me and give me something to wear?” - I suggested.

“It will do,” he replied. “Well, tell?”

“Damn you,” I grumbled.

Hassan put the chair against me and sat down, his legs crossed.

- I was born in a very distant country.

- In which? - I interrupted him.

“If you disturb me,” Hassan warned, “I will not tell.”

“Okay, I won't,” I promised.

- I was born in Yemen in the family of a poor shopkeeper. I was the fifth child in the family. Mother soon died, and all worries about us fell on the shoulders of his father. But he didn’t put up with it for a long time and soon brought a woman into the house. I then just turned five years old. The new wife of my father immediately disliked me. From that day the black line began for me.This bitch did her best to turn my elder brothers against me, who thrashed me with great pleasure for any reason, and sometimes just like that. I went with bruises all the time. And once, when I accidentally knocked over a vase with flowers, the stepmother beat me so much that I could not stand up for several days.

Then I accidentally found out that this creature is cheating on my father. No, she had no lover. She just went to another area and fucked anyone who paid her well. And in the evenings, when her father returned home, she swore to him in eternal love and hung on her neck. My father was happy, and in the morning everything was repeated.

Once I ran into a shop to my father and dragged him home. When we arrived, we saw his wife making love to my older brother. Father was beside himself with rage. He pounced on his brother with his fists. He accused him of having inclined his wife to live together. And this slut was lying on the bed naked and only assented to her husband. As a result, the father drove his brother out of the house. The same fate befell the second brother.

My father unconditionally believed this whore, and we also began to spit and sometimes beat. Without waiting for the father's curse, I myself left the house one morning. I was wandering for a long time, hungry, cold, but then one person picked me up and brought me to my house. Thanks to him, I received a good education and university education. This man even offered me to marry his youngest daughter. And I agreed.

We settled in the prestigious area of ​​Sana'a in the house that her father bought for us. Everything was fine except, perhaps, love. Amira with me was restrained, polite, but cold. Then she began to disappear at night. First, rarely, then more and more. And once did not come at all.

A few days later I received a letter from a lawyer demanding to compensate Amira for material damage and free the house, which I allegedly illegally occupy. That's when I got mad and decided to take revenge on all women.

Hassan fell silent.

“Funny story,” I said sadly, “But it still does not justify you.” Is there no other way?

- And I do not want another way! - he shouted - I want to obey me.

“But this is not love,” I protested.

- This is slavery! - Hassan minted, - I have not yet asked any girl to become my slave! I just took it and turned it into nothingness! You are the first whom I ask to submit! Do you hear?

- Not! - I answered firmly.

Hassan roared again, slamming his armchair with his foot, flew up to the wall where various instruments of torture were hung, tore off a spike whip and began to whip me. I screamed, but he continued to beat me tirelessly. Multi-colored circles were already floating before his eyes, when he grabbed my hair and asked again:

- Yes or no?

“No,” I said faintly, “Never!”

The blows fell again, but I no longer felt pain. I did not feel anything at all. And soon she stopped seeing and hearing. The night has come. And silence. And there was no cold or staha. Only emptiness. Black enveloping emptiness.

I regained consciousness several times and heard the same question, to which I answered the same. Then I do not remember anything.

*******************************************

Julia turned off the laptop and pushed aside. It was the third hour of the night. All but the sisters on duty were sleeping. The doctor looked out the door of his office. Quiet. There is not anyone. Having removed a bunch of backup keys from the hook, she carefully, so as not to wake anyone, went to the second floor.

Going to the ward, Julia pushed the flap back and looked inside. The girl, curled up, lay quietly on her bed.

Julia opened the door and entered.

“I was waiting for you, Miss Julia,” Samantha said softly, lifting her head from the pillow.

- How do you? - Julia sat on the edge of the bed.

- Have you read? - the girl cautiously looked at her.

“It's terrible,” Julia breathed. “Why didn't you write how you got here at the clinic?”

“I don’t remember,” Samantha replied guiltily. “And it’s not ...” Read more →