For three months Lars had held me a prisoner, captive in this grey, dank and featureless room. My mind was assaulted with a tirade of emotions. Disbelief, horror, fear, anger and confusion, my head felt like a bubbling cauldron, a boiling pot that threatened to bubble over at any time. But there was also something else, something surrounding that pot, a feeling of emptiness. It was a hollow, empty void that held no emotion.

  The cauldron and the void, like two opposing forces battling against each other in my head but at that time it was the emptiness that dominated me.

  My eyes were wide, my gaze fixed on Lars’ face. What was he thinking? His face was unreadable, once again that cold and expressionless mask had settled over him. His jaw relaxed, pale eyes watching me with a gaze that felt distant and uninterested, revealing nothing of the thoughts that went on behind them.

  “How? You’ll never get away with this! People will be looking for me, Mum and Dad… Lela...” my voice was soft and low, my words echoed in the vacuum of nothingness that filled my mind.

  Slowly, his head shook from side to side, “No Heidi, there’s nobody looking for you now. Mum and Dad, well, sometimes it's best for everyone when we remove certain toxic objects from our lives. Lela, it’s true that she did ask after you for a while but she seems to have moved on now. Her and Asmund seem incredibly happy.” his eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke that last sentence, a slight edge entering his voice.

  A toxic object? Is that how he saw me? Not his sister, not a human being but an object, a piece of rubbish that could just be discarded, cast aside and forgotten?

  Toxic object, the word lingered in the air with a bitter residue.

  His words cut deep, a small spark inside of me flared into something bigger. A flame which caused the cauldron to explode. Emotions surged through me, overwhelming the emptiness that had been there just moments before. A flood of sensations, raw and primal crashed over me like a tsunami. My body shuddered, shivering despite the red hot heat that was now rising from deep within my gut. I drew in a deep breath, my pulse racing, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm inside my chest.

  My eyes squeezed tightly, narrowing into thin slits as I set a hot glare on him. My jaw hardened, hands clenching fiercely.

  It was then, when I was at my lowest, at my most helpless ebb that a moment of defiance came over me. With a voice that was sharp and hard, I snapped at my brother, “You can’t do this Lars! You can't do this to me! Let me out of here! Just let me go!”.

  There was a slight flicker in Lars’ eyes, a momentary crack in his cold fa?ade, perhaps? Whatever it was, it didn’t last long, his face quickly settling back into that icy calm. His lips turning up at the edges in a dismissive smirk.

  I could feel my muscles tensing. Something seized me, a feeling that is impossible to describe. It was a feeling beyond rage, beyond desperation. It was a feeling dredged up from the most primitive depths of my being. I felt like a rat, trapped and cornered. There was nowhere to run, the only choice that I had was to fight.

  I pounced forward, my eyes locked on to Lars’ throat. I could see it clearly, his windpipe, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. His jugular pulsating in the side of his neck, I could almost hear the deep throb of his blood pumping through it. My breathing became ragged and rasping, a growl rising up from within me. I had lost all control of myself, something else had taken hold over me, something ancient and primal. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself even if I had wanted to. I knew what I was going to do, I was going to kill Lars. I was going to tear at his neck with my teeth, rip at his flesh with my nails. I was going to attack and kill him like an animal fighting a predator, fighting for its survival.

  My legs propelled me forwards in a desperate lunge. Instantly, a white hot pain seized them. Muscles, weakened and wasted through months of forced inactivity and neglect froze, clamping tight. They contracted, locking solid, sending me pitching me forwards.

  The fire inside me went out, smothered by the pain and panic that now washed over me. I can clearly remember the look on Lars’ face. A wide smile, lines spreading out from the corners of his eyes. He was laughing at me, mocking me, enjoying watching me falter.

  Casually, he stepped to the side, moving out of my way as my body tumbled forwards, crashing heavily onto the damp, cold concrete floor of that room.

  My body struck the ground with a sickening thud. The breath jarred from my lungs, every part of me screamed out in agony. A boiling, crushing agony engulfed me as I lay there, a broken wreck of a woman, sprawled out on the ground.

  Lying there my eyes screwed shut, the damp cold seeping deep into my bones, gnawing at my battered and bruised body. Then, slicing though the writhing torment that gripped me, came a single sound, instantly recognisable. The high pitched, cackle of laughter.

  His laughter.

  “Oh, why do you have to let yourself get so excited, Sister Dearest?”, his voice gurgling as he attempted to speak through his laughter. “If we’re going to take you off that medicine and keep you awake then I’m really going to have to ask you to start calming down.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The laughing continued, manic and malicious while I lay there paralysed, spasms and tremors racking my body.

  Abruptly the laughter stopped. The next time he spoke I heard a change in him, his voice quivered with something else. It was a dark, threatening and dangerous voice. “I don’t want to have to punish you again so I’m going to let it go just this time. But you need to be respectful towards me. I’ve been good to you, I made you a nice lunch, cleaned you up, offered to take you off that medicine that has been making you so poorly and this is how you thank me? But trying to attack me? Do you really think that you can touch me in the state that you’re in? Next time, Heidi I will not be so kind, act like that again and the next time I’ll have to teach you some respect.”

  My body still convulsing as sharp pains continued to ravage me. My eyes pulled tightly shut, I dared not open them, I dare not look up. The sound of his heavy footfalls began to recede, a dull thump gradually fading until a final, sharp crack of the door slamming closed. Then nothing, nothing except that continual drip, drip, drip to break the silence.

  As I lay there, the dank air heavy, settled over me pressing down like a cold blanket, chilling me to the bone. The cold concrete floor, damp and rough against my skin sent shivers rippling over my skin, each one bringing with it a fresh stab of pain. My breathing came slow and laboured, the air wheezing and rattling inside my chest.

  With teeth chattering, the air seemed to get heavier, harder to draw in. My breathing became more ragged, more forced. Every breath a painful effort, lungs desperately trying to expand against the ribs that constricted them.

  Drip, drip, drip… the sound banged against my ear drums, pounding out a haunting and hypnotic beat.

  The cold, hard concrete beneath me seemed to grow soft, although the chilling cold remained. The rough walls closed in, melting into shadow, the low ceiling descended, dark like a shroud upon me. The world around me shifted, swirling, dizzying and disorientating. Darkness clouded at the edges of my vision.

  Intense, bone deep exhaustion washed over me, pulling me down. Eyelids growing heavy, fluttering before drifting closed. Darkness deepened as I drifted into a heavy and dreamless sleep.

  I don’t know how long I was unconscious for, a day at least but a cold jolt, a sharp convulsion brought me back. My eyelids snapped open, the harsh reality of my situation flooded back to me.

  A dull throb pulsed through my limbs, my body protesting as I tried to push myself off that icy concrete. My body was stiff but still I managed to haul myself into a sitting position.

  Nothing had changed, I was still there in that room. The same staircase still rising to what I knew would be a locked door. The small, high window allowing enough light to just about cut through the blackness. Those scattered boxes, that broken and discarded furniture, laying long since forgotten in the shadows.

  Beside me, a large, red, porcelain bowl caught my eye. My hand reached out slowly, closing on the cool, smooth rim. I pulled the heavy bowl towards me, the porcelain grated against the rough concrete, putting my teeth on edge.

  Glancing down into it, I realised that the bowl was filled with pasta. Recently left there by Lars, no doubt. A bubble of resistance formed inside me, my knuckles whitened as my hand tightened its grip on the smooth, curved surface. The rebellious urge to hurl the bowl across the room almost overwhelmed me.

  Why should I give him the satisfaction accepting his offerings?

  A loud, insistent growl from my stomach and the dull empty ache within me betrayed my resolve. My hand released from the bowl’s rim, dipping into the cold rubbery pasta. Scooping out a handful of the congealed mass towards my mouth.

  There was no hint of warmth or flavour, just a chewy, bland nothingness. But it was sustenance and swallowing did send a flicker of warmth through me. The hunger in me fading with every bite until I’d emptied the bowl.

  My eyes looked around surveying my surroundings, the first chance that I’d had to do that with a level head. The small window was the first thing that caught my attention, the most obvious escape route from that stagnant dungeon. It was a fleeting hope that dissolved almost as quickly as it had come. Even if it hadn’t been so high, hadn’t been so small, the iron grille in front of it would make any escape impossible. The only other way in or out would have to be through that door. But it was an old, heavy door, always kept locked. Any attempt to get through it would be pointless.

  Shoulders slumping as my eyes fell, my gaze catching sight of my arms. Arms that were thin and feeble, striped, purple with bruises.

  His earlier words echoing loudly in my head “I don’t want to have to punish you again”.

  With a tentative hand I began to feel myself over, my ribs sore to the touch, my back, painful.

  My finger absently traced the edges of the bruises. Had Lars really done this to me? Had these bruises come from some form of twisted punishment?

  Memories suddenly began falling into place. I could her Lars clearly now, his voice raised and angry as he shouted at me. A loud crack and then pain. Scorching, searing pain.

  Crack, crack, crack. Again and again came that cracking sound and each time accompanying it was the pain. There was a screaming too, a loud, shrill screaming. I recognised my own voice, my pleas for mercy.

  I pulled my knees into myself, wrapping my arms around my legs tightly as I tried to push those memories from my mind. Were they real? Did that really happen? I so desperately wanted to believe that they were just dreams, just nightmares.

  As much as I tried to convince myself that it couldn’t have happened, the bruises on my body told a different story.

  Tears that welled up in my eyes, overflowed and streamed down my cheeks. Shoulders shaking uncontrollably as sobs of despair shook my body. Every sob sending a stab of pain through my bruised ribs, a stark reminder that refused to let me forget what he had done.

  My own brother, how could he do that to me? Beat me and leave me down there, down in that room among the smashed boxes and broken furniture.

  Was I broken too? Was I just another broken thing to be discarded and left forgotten about in this place?

  Drip, drip, drip.

  That incessant noise constantly pounding in my head.

  Eventually the sobs began to subside leaving my eyes red and sore. An empty hollow ache was all that was left inside me. Hope, defiance, even anger, it was all gone. It faded away until all I was left with was the bleak, empty nothingness of despair.

  My eyes drifted back to that staircase and up towards the black abyss. Beyond that abyss was the door, the door through which I knew that sooner or later he would come.

  There was no fear at that thought, no cold shudder. It’s a strange thing when you realise that there’s no hope. Emotion vanishes and all you’re left with is an empty hole with nothing to fill it.

  The shadows seemed to stretch deeper now, the air had a scent that I hadn’t noticed before. It carried a metallic tang, it was the scent of blood.

  Behind that broken furniture, lurked shadows dark and deep. My eyes caught a flicker of movement. I could feel them then, tiny eyes watching me, observing me from that black corner of the room. Eyes that were cruel and calculating.

  My ears picked up a low mutter, a soft hiss of a voice whispering my name, over and over again.

  “Heidi, Heidi…”