The Switchblade Mamma

The Switchblade Mamma

By Lindsey Schussman

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2016 Lindsey Schussman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

1.

It was 1:00 AM and the end of my shift. The two heavy metal doors flung open and a wall of people came cascading out like a waterfall. I exited the building and rushed to my locker. It was only November, but it was a cold one. It had been raining on and off all day. And I, who was very susceptible and did not like the cold, was fumbling with the zipper of my jacket. The cold was messing with my hands.

With my jacket zipped and finally in place, I walked myself to the edge of the patio. I was greeted by a cold slow drizzle. I pulled my hood over my head and looked to the sky to let the drizzle slowly slide down my face.

The clouds blanketed the sky like a dark purple haze. The moon was hidden behind this ominous blanket, but every now and it would play peekaboo in the sky. I pulled the hood closer to my face and tried to hunker down as I swiftly walked to my truck. There was a slow lazy breeze about. It wasn't constant, but when it came around and it hit me in the back like needles. The hair stood straight on the back of my neck and I rushed to my truck a little bit faster.

She was old and tired, but she still meant the world to me. She was my old 1989 Chevrolet Suburban. She was midnight blue and dark gray, a birthday gift my father had given me before he died. I was a very sentimental girl and this truck meant the world to me. Every time I sat in it, it gave me good memories and reminded me of good times in the past, of a once happy family.

The suburban in my mind, still in her prime, almost had 300,000 miles on it. Thankfully for the Arizona weather there was virtually no rust on it. I didn’t know how much money I put into it, but I knew I put all my blood and sweat in it to keep it running. It went through three rear differentials, two transmission rebuilds, one front end rebuild, and I didn’t even want to think of the crap I had to go through with emissions. I had spent quite a bit of money trying to get all-terrain tires on it, and I was in the process of thinking about getting a new paint job; all of which would cost of a boatload of money and a butt load of overtime.

Since the truck was stolen three times; every time recovered and returned by the police, I installed an alarm and a remote unlocking mechanism. I unlocked the doors and hoisted myself up into the truck. Though it didn't have an actual lift, the all-terrain tires that I had put on it required a little bit of climbing to get in, especially for my small stature. I jumbled with the keys and dropped them twice before I could even get them into the ignition. I so hated the cold, it always messed with me in such ways. For example, my hands weren't working right. I turned the key, and the engine slowly rumbled the life. I waited patiently while the engine warmed up.

It had been one of those kinds of days at work. One of those days where every person seems to get under your skin and make it crawl. All I wanted to do was to go home and have a couple of beers and play some Xbox. That was my Thursday ritual.

To supplement my rage, I decided to listen to some music that would enhance my mood a little bit more. I decided to listen to some Nine Inch nails, The wretched.

The truck was finally warmed up so I put her into gear hightailed it out of there.

The rain had started coming down a little bit harder now, but I still kept on course and headed to the nearest gas station to pick up some beer and some snacks for the night. Driving with a nonworking compressor was never an easy thing to do. The cold and the rain did not make my situation any easier. Low visibility from fogging windows made it difficult to see. I pulled the sleeve of my jacket over my hand and rubbed the windshield, creating a momentary window. At least until it fogged over again. As I turned into the gas station, I breathed a sigh of relief that I had got there safely.

By the time I got what I needed, it started to pour buckets of rain. I didn't run, but briskly walked to my truck. I didn’t want anybody to think I was sissy about the rain, did I?

Key’s, ignition, vroom. By now, my two rear windows were completely fogged up and visibility was at zero. I slowly backed up maneuvering, peeking out the driver's side window as I did, so that I would not hit anything. Good thing it was only one in the morning, because barely anyone was in the parking lot.

Driving in the pouring rain was proving to be difficult. Unfortunately in my older model truck, the windshield wipers seemed to only have two speeds… slow, and slower. Lucky for me, there were not too many vehicles out on the road at one in the morning. I didn’t have to worry too much about crashing into another car.

I came off the highway and pulled up to an intersection where I would turn right to get to my apartment complex. It was a no turn on red intersection. I sighed partial irritation as my truck rolled up and crept to a stop at the red light. Not paying attention to any other of my surroundings, I continued to stare blankly into the illuminating red glow. I was still jamming out to Nine Inch nails, and enjoying my pepperoni stick that I had purchased from the gas station. I didn't notice the other vehicle pull up behind me, quickly and abruptly stop.

It happened so fast I didn't know how to react. One moment I had both my hands on the steering wheel feeling good and venting my rage through song, and in the next moment, my driver side window exploded sending a blizzard of glass all over the place. I began to protest by saying a slew of cuss words. I threw the truck into Park, which was my biggest mistake, because after I did, two gigantic pairs of arms rushed through my driver side window and pulled me out of it. I should have just floored it.

I was dropped to the ground like a rag doll. My ribs were violated by an oversized steel toed boot. It was a blunt force of painful sensations that I had never felt before. Instinctively I grabbed my ribs, and coughed up, hard. I looked up, trying to get a glimpse of my attacker.

All I really saw was the yellow glow from the street lights bouncing off the millions of small droplets of rain. With the moisture in the air and the extreme cool down from the cold front, there was much vapor exiting my mouth and nose from my heavy labored breathing. I was scared Shitless.

I went for my pocket which contained two knives that that I carried with me every day. The attacker anticipated this for I was quickly kicked in the arm before I could even grab one.

Once again, I felt a spiral of shooting, quick traveling pain. It was the first time that I had actually ever been assaulted, and I had absolutely no way of knowing how to fight off my attacker. It was one of those kind of moments that occasionally flashed through my mind on a day-to-day basis, but I never really thought it would happen. And even though I thought of the conclusion over and over again and how differently it could be, I still was not prepared for the events to come.

The rain was still pouring down and I was completely drenched. In a last futile attempt to save my life and to ward off the mugger, I tried to take a stand. I looked up, planting my palms into the cold soaked concrete. Trying to get up, trying to raise to my feet, I flinched and turned my head as I saw a fist coming for my face. Blackness, I saw nothing but total blackness.

I woke up shivering. My eyes slowly opened to an exploding pain in my head. At first I thought I was blind because I saw nothing but darkness. I moved my head around a little bit, only to find that I was wearing a pillowcase or something cloth like over my head. I was lying on my left side and completely bound up like a pig. My hands were tied behind my back, and my legs were tied together. I could barely move.

I was trying to figure out where I was at. Besides me shivering from my drenched clothing, I felt a warm vibration beneath me. There was the smell of car oil and grease. My senses started to come to a little bit more. My mouth tasted of blood, as my tongue poked and prodded around a gag that was in my mouth. I thought about yelling help, but it seemed useless. I didn’t think anybody would hear me from any moving vehicle. As I moved my head around a little bit more, I could feel the bloody crispiness from drying blood stuck in my head bag. Its coppery aroma mixed with the oil and grease smell of the vehicle started to make me gag. I began to wiggle around trying to gain my freedom back. The ropes were tight but they weren't that tight and I tried my best to wiggle out of them. I froze when heard a man's voice.

From the distance of his voice I could tell he was sitting really close to me. I got really nervous and started to sweat bullets. A boss man, she start to come to. You want me put her out again? The man's voice was low and grungy with a hint of Louisiana. I couldn't see him but from the sound of his voice I imagined a short, stocky, furry, and chubby man. I started squirming a little bit more. I was hoping the putting her out again wouldn't consist of another punch to the face. Yeah I suppose you should. I don't want her to give me too much of trouble when we get back to camp. Give her another hit off that rag Clive, not too much though. We're going to have to interrogate when get her there. His voice was coming from the front of the vehicle. He must've been driving. His voice was a little bit higher than the other guys. He seemed to be a little bit lighter in weight. His voice though, his voice was what scared me the most. I could hear a dark undertone in it. This was the guy that I would need to fear the most. As I was waiting for my hit from the rag, I could hear the driver. From what I could tell he was on the phone. We got her chief. We picked her up just where he said she would be. We are on our way back to base camp. We'll get her ready for the procedure. The only thing that really went through my mind when I heard that was what the hell's going on? Procedure? Was I kidnapped by evil doctors? What kind of procedure, and where was I going? Really? How the hell does this just happen to somebody? And who the hell was he?

I heard Clive move. Before I could react he had his hand across my face. I twisted and turned my head thrashing like a wild bull. No avail. Thrashing just led me to running out of breath and having to take deeper ones. I inhaled deeply to catch my breath. Before I knew it, there was darkness, again.

2.

I awoke to a bashing headache. I awoke to pure darkness. I awoke to lying on my back. I slowly lifted up my torso. I took a deep breath and tried to figure out where I was. I could smell dirt. I lifted my hands to my temples, so that I could rub away my exploding headache, only to find that my hands were bound by chains. Because I was enveloped in complete darkness, I used my hands to be my eyes. I figured at this point I had all the time in the world, and started feeling everything up. To the left of me, it felt like a wooden wall. To the right of me I could feel the edge of a wooden platform, some sort of makeshift bed. I took my legs and twisted them off the bed. I felt ground. I took a stand. Usually roller coasters quickly go down, but the roller coaster of pain shot up my back and climaxed in my head. The pulsating within my skull overcame me, and I had to sit back down again.

I took my thumb and my index finger from my left hand and began to rub it in the space between my thumb and my index finger on my right hand. This was a pressure point that somebody had showed me a long ago to relieve headaches and it does work. Seeing how I did not have any aspirins laying around, so the method would have to suffice. As I felt relief, I decided to try to stand up again.

As my head began to clear, other pain throughout my body became more apparent. Both feet planted firmly on the ground, I slowly raised my aching body up. Both hands lay by my sides. I took one, two, three steps, and came to the end of my chain. Great! I was now living in a big wooden coffin. Fantabulous!

Frustrated, I then sat back down on the bed. Complete despair was flooding my mind. I figured becoming frantic was not going to help at all. I could yell, I could scream, I could rave and rant like a crazy lady, but I knew in my heart that it would do nothing but drain my energy.

So I sat there, in complete obscurity. I heard no sounds and I saw nothing. It was the worst feeling that I ever felt. Complete loneliness. Completely cut off from anything.

I started to fidget with the metal cuffs around my wrists. I was always known to be some sort of an escape artist and could get out of anything. Twisting and turning, turning and twisting. I started to feel pain, but I kept going. More twisting and turning until the pain became unbearable. I started to feel wetness in my right palm as I twisted the metal cuff from my left wrist. Blood began to flow. The skin began to peel off my wrist and I stopped as the pain became excruciating. As the Borg would say in Star Trek, resistance was futile.

Resistance being futile, I laid my back against the wall to get some sort of comfort. I knew there was no way in hell that I would fall asleep comfortably. So I stared, into the murk. The cold began to settle in. My clothes were still wet and damp from the rain. I felt there was a blanket and a pillow. Gravy! Not really giving a shit, I sat there staring into the dark emptiness that now became my life, thinking of the things to come.

I didn't whistle, and I didn't hum. But I tried to think of the most soothing song that I could think of, and I played it over and over again in my head. I tried so hard to be strong and not to cry, but what the hell was I supposed to do?

The tears were rolling down my eyes. My whole world was gone, everything that I knew. You never know how important something is until you lose it, and I just lost it all. No more beer, Facebook, Xbox, work, everybody that I loved. I thought about my mom, and my sister, my niece, and I hoped whoever he was, had no idea who they were. I felt an insane rage growing. I felt a complete madness that I have never felt before. In the pitch black of the night I stood up like a beast. I raised both my arms. I was going to gain some speed and yank the metal mother fuckers out of the wall! I was going to break the chains, or at least make an attempt. One, two, three, and I ran like a bat out of hell. I didn't get very far at all before I was stopped dead in my tracks. The end of my chain came and I fell to the ground on my face. Complete failure. Discouraged I got back on my feet, brushed the dirt off of my already damp dirty pants, and took those few steps back to my shitty wooden bed. I sat there, at a complete loss, and started to hum that song that soothed me so.

I had so many questions that plagued my mind. Most importantly, what were they going to do with me? Why was I there? Would I be dead tomorrow? I did not want to even think of the vile things that they could do to me. I pulled my knees up to my chest, laid my chin upon them, and rocked.

At some point in the night I fell into some insane slumber. I dreamt of fists, rain, and pain. I dreamt of my mother and her beautiful face. How the sun used to accent her beautiful brown eyes. How she use take every bad moment and make it a good one. How she used to call me up and ask me if I was happy. I dreamt of my father and his big beard and his stunning blue eyes. How he used to be bold and brave and never afraid of anything. In any sticky situation, my father would find a way out. I dreamt of my grandmother and my grandfather and how they were always supportive. They always taught me that there was another way out. And then there was my sister Elaina. We were always fighting as we grew up. But what siblings don't fight? I always said, she got the beauty and I got the brains. It was weird, but for some reason they were all there in my dreams that night. They were all there for my support. They were all there to help me get through the worst night of my life.

3.

There was a rooster call, and I slowly raised my eyelids. It was still very cold, and my clothes were damp, as my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. My boots were wet, and the steel in the toes made no comfort for keeping them warm. Somewhere along the way, I had lost my hoodie jacket. I crossed my arms and started rubbing my chest trying desperately to keep myself warm. The rays of the sun weren’t bright but were creating enough light for me to see my newly kept dungeon. About ten feet in front of me from where I was sitting on my bed, there was a staircase leading upward. To the right of me, there was the dirtiest rusted out toilet that I had ever seen, and next to it was a porcelain pedestal sink with a single cup sitting on top of it.

Finally able to see myself in the light, I tried to take survey of the damage that had been done. My wrists were bloody. The blood had slithered from my wrists, and rolled down to my fingers. My wallet was gone, along with my two knives. My watch and my metal studded leather cuff were missing from my wrists. My cell phone was gone to. Of course my keys were missing because I left them in the truck. The only thing that resided in my pockets was my Chapstick. This was a relief, for my lips were chapped as hell, and I applied it liberally. The cool stinging brought little relief.

I couldn't remember the last time I had taken care of business, and though it didn't look very inviting, I had to piss like race horse.

There was no way in hell that I would sit on the decomposing, un-cleaned, smelly, decrepit looking toilet seat. I was the kind of person that used an ass gasket wherever I went. I slowly undid my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, lowered my zipper, and like molasses pulled down my damp heavy pants. In an instant the stubbly hairs on my legs went straight up. I felt like I had jumped in a pool of ice water. The damp dungeon was cold as hell. I closed my eyes and I clenched my teeth and I just let it all flow out. In the whole nights events this was the most relief that I felt. I looked around and of course there was no god damn toilet paper. Christ I spoke it loudly. No bloody toilet paper. What the hell could I expect? It wasn't like I was staying at the holiday inn.

I heard footsteps above me. I heard unlocking. The wooden flap that was my new door slowly opened. It squeaked and creaked upon opening. One brown boot stepped down and then another. Slowly descending down the stairs was a chubby man about 5 foot 10, wearing blue jeans, boots, and a camouflage hooded jacket. The man had shoulder length hair; with little curl’s at the end. He had a 10:00 PM shadow beard upon his face. Expressionless he came to the bottom of the stairs with a gun in his right hand pointed directly at my face.

I wasn't a total expert on guns, but I shot competitively with my father for many years, and by the looks of it, it was a .45 semi-automatic. Big holes I thought to myself. I stood there, with my hands by my side, awaiting instruction, eyes wide.

He stood there for a bit with the gun pointed at my head. He held out a black pillowcase. I figured he wanted me to put on my head, but I waited for the command.

Take dis pillowcase slowly, and put it over your head. Both hands reached out by now. One hand on the gun, and the other on the pillowcase. His voice was rich with Louisiana. He must have been Clive.

I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. By this time my heart was pounding inside my chest. I opened both my eyes and I made direct eye contact with my now captor. His eyes were of a black kind. I couldn't see anything but total gloom. I couldn’t read anything, so I obeyed. I slowly raised both my arms. The chains lightly clinking as I lifted them. My whole life at the moment was in his hands. As of the morning I finally saw the light, but as I pulled the case over my head, darkness ensued. I took another deep breath, and released.

As I had darkened out my world, I heard his voice once again. Now hold still, and don't you move. I ain't afraid to shoot ya. I've got dis gun here, and I ain't afraid to use it.

I heard another unlocking sound, and then another. All the way, I heard my chains rattling. Both my hands on my side, I felt a pulling. I was being let out, slowly. Walking upstairs with a bag over my head was difficult and after stumbling a few times I managed to make it up.

After we had left my dungeon he pulled me close. I felt as he pulled himself behind me, and the gun was pointing into my back. I tried to keep in mind how many steps I was taking. He stopped. I heard him unlock something, and a sliding noise. After that the walking became more difficult. It was snow that I was walking in. It must've been a sunny day, for the sun rays were beaming on my damp black shirt. I felt the warmth, rejoiced the warmth. Still counting, we came to a stop where he opened another door.

It was a house, because as soon as we opened the door I was hit by the intense smell of breakfast. My stomach began to rumble. It was hours and hours ago since I had my last meal. Bacon and hash browns flooded my nose. There was soon the whiff of coffee that teased me so. God, I could have used a cup to warm me up.

We came to another stop. He put my hands on which felt like a stair rail. We slowly descended, away from the beautiful sunshine, coffee, bacon, and hash browns. The lower level from what I could not see, but could feel was dark, dank, and musky. We reached the lower level, and I heard another door open. He sat me down. I heard my chains clinking again as he locked me down warding off any escape. There was a flick of a switch, and I could see a dim light oozing through my head bag. The door was shut, and I was alone again.

I didn’t know how long I sat there. There was a table in front of me, and by the feel of it, was metal. I didn't have very much slack on my chains. I lifted my arms as far as I could upward; I put them to my sides, and had barely any slack. I figured I was chained to the table. I figured since I was alone I could pull the bag off my head, so I did. The room had four walls, all flat white paint. Above me were two grungy fluorescent lights. And of course, in front of me was a metal square table.

I sat there for some time just staring into the white walls, dozing off. I heard rustling upstairs. I heard voices, men voices. My head was still pounding, and I lowered it onto the cold steel table. As I began to enter the world of unconsciousness, I heard the door behind me open.

I lifted my head quickly and tried to be as alert as possible. He sat in the chair across from me. He laid a manila folder, and a bag upon the table. I saw the driver. His eyes were as cold as ice. They were the only set of blue eyes from hell that I've ever seen. His head was shaved, but it was a buzz cut. His red hair slowly drifted from his sideburns down to is neatly shaven goatee. He was tall and husky. We sat there in silence and he said nothing. He just looked into my eyes. I couldn't take it anymore of it, so I looked into my lap.

I heard a rustling noise and looked up. He was taking things out of the bag. They were my things. He pulled out my wallet, my two knives, and what looked to be my phone in pieces. Shaking the bag, my cuff and my watch fell out. He looked at the cuff and then he looked at me and said a bit kinky aren't we? Smiling he laid it down on the table.

He opened my wallet and pulled out my driver's license. He placed the license on the table and looked at it. He then placed both his elbows on the table, pulling his hands together and crossed fingers. He then looked at me, blue eyes blazing like hell.

Tell me your full name please.

I just looked at him. The only thing I could think of was: you have my license there, why don't you look at that? Look at the driver's license…

It was quick and swift. Before I knew it, I had a backhand to the left side of my face. It was stinging. My jaw had dropped open, and I was trying to compute what had just happened.

He looked at me again and repeated the question. Tell me your full name now. It wasn't very polite this time, but I figured I'd better comply. I didn't want another strike to the face.

Lillian Ann Cross. I said swallowing hard.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled a wicked crooked smile. Good, that's what I wanted to hear. He examined the license a little bit longer than he looked at me. Now, tell me your weight, hair color, and eye color.

Becoming short fused, I had quickly forgotten the last bashing. I took a deep breath, looked at him in the eyes, and hoped I gave him a good blazing. Go fuck yourself, you evil little redhead.

Once again, short and quick, there was another backhand to the left side. This time my lip caught my tooth busting it open. Blood gushed over my jaw. I tried to catch the bleeding with my hand, and winced as the pain flowed through my body. I then once again complied and gave him what he wanted to hear. I weigh 120 pounds, I am 5'2...I have blonde hair, and hazel eyes.

Good. He said. You are learning. He leaned forward and looked at me again. He had his fingers entwined, elbows on the table, and both thumbs touching his lips. The more difficult you make this, the more difficult I make this for you. He had some sort of sweet sadistic satisfaction in his eyes. It made my stomach churn. I really wanted to go home.

Lillian, do you know why you've been brought here today? He released his arms from the table and sat back in his chair. He looked at me again, eyes cold.

Unpaid parking tickets? I shot out my patented half smile.

Once again I was struck on the same side. My sanity was losing control. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to Ward off the pain.

Go fuck yourself. I said. I lifted my arm and extended it as far across the table as the chain would permit. Blazing my middle finger to him, I tried to get it as close to his face as I could. You go fuck yourself, and you die mother Fucker. I was totally waiting for another backhand. I sat back and made sure my tongue was where it should be, so I would not bite myself again. There was nothing, nothing at all. I was waiting for the strike, but it didn't happen.

He didn't move, and his expression didn't change. He just raised his right hand, dropped it quickly and bashed it down on the manila folder that was lying on the steel table. He then slid it in front of me. He looked at me again with that sadistic smile. I knew he had something wrong in store for me. All right you little bitch, no compliance equals I need to play these cards.

He raised his eyebrows and urged me to look. I hesitantly raised both chained hands and pulled it within eye view. I opened and looked at its contents. It was a blurry 8 x 10 photograph. It took me some time to adjust to the blurriness, but I was blown away as soon as I recognized who was in the picture. My heart just turned into a black hole. My life just became that much more difficult. My life was now in the hands of his mercy.

I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head. Staring at the ground I replied fuck me.

A mile wide smile the size of the Grand Canyon developed on his face. In his mind it was nothing more than mission accomplished, the cat was in the bag, and the fish was on the hook. Now little girl, you see how the game is being played. All I have to do is make one phone call, one God damn phone call. You don't obey, you don't comply, that phone call goes through and your mother will suffer the worst torture before her death. Understood?

I pretty much just sat there like a wax figurine; the only thing I could muster was a slow oozing nod. Even though my heart was still physically beating, mentally it stopped. If I did not obey, then my mother would suffer terribly. That was what I thought to myself, there was no other way. I was not going to let my mom down. I dropped my defenses and I agreed to myself that I would comply. I would however, not lose my ability to be a smartass. If I was going to let these people have total control, then at least my smartass ability would keep some sort of protection in my mind.

So it came down to it. I leaned forward crossing my arms and laying them down on the cold steel metal table, chains clinking all the way. I looked up into the cold empty eyes of the man who would gain control of my body, part of my mind, but never my soul. I nodded once again, slowly closed my eyes, rolled them back up and said, all right guy, you have my compliance, what would you want me to do?

Leaning back in his chair and resting both his arms on the armrests, he finally introduced himself, and his intentions. My name is Barrett, Barrett Jackson.

I tried really hard not to laugh. My mouth slowly dropped open; my eyebrows slowly sloped down with my mouth. So… You… I really tried to behave and hold my tongue but once again my smartass remarks kicked in. So you're named after that famous car auction, right?

I'm not sure, but even though all four walls of the room were a bland flat white, it seemed I had sparked a fire in Mr. Jackson's complexion, for the redness in his cheeks seemed to spill over onto the walls. Maybe it was the lack of food, or the multiple bashes to the head, but I swore to God that I saw his white skin a flaming.

There was no hesitation in the man's movements. He stood up right quick, and with a full closed fist, I took one to the left side. At that point something on my face exploded for I saw, and heard the blood splatter on the wall. The taste of copper pennies flooded my mouth, and everything became a whole lot more blurry. With the last few brain cells I had, I tried very hard to pay attention to the devil man.

Are you ready to pay attention now?

I nodded. Blood was running down the side of my head and dripping off my chin.

Good. He said. He sat back down and leaned in the back of his chair. With his other hand he cradled the fist he used to smash my face. Now listen closely. He leaned in closer to me, elbows on the table, making direct eye contact. He wanted me to be sure that I knew that he was serious, no bullshit. You will be eating, sleeping, and shitting what I'm about to say to you for the rest your life.

My heart sank at the sound of it. The rest of my life, was this guy serious? Whatever the hell did I get myself into, or the most irritating part, who the fuck got me into it?

Are you familiar with cockfighting?

I nodded.

Good. He said. This however, is on a bit of a bigger scale. This is called Hen fighting. You see, unlike cockfighting, there is a lot of money involved, I mean a lot. His eyes just got bigger as he looked at me. I felt as if he had done this a couple times before. You… He lifted his arm up and pointed at me. You will be transformed into a fighter. You'll be taught many methods of fighting, and you'll go up against other girls who have learned many different other methods of fighting.

All of this just seemed so unreal. My whole life I was never a violent person, and could never imagine of harming another human being. I used to go hunting with my dad, but that was hunting. You were out there with a purpose, and my father always made sure that none of the carcass was ever wasted. But this, this made no sense to me at all. Sure I saw fight club, and watched UFC, but this? I had questions, I had a lot, but I thought this time I should let him finish; for it was my life that was in the balance.

He continued on with his instruction. We have a sponsor, and he is the one who is backing you, paying for your room, your board, feeding you, paying for your procedure, and making sure that you are trained properly. He paused for a moment trying to regain thought. Everyone, here has a stake in this. We all have something to lose. That part was so very serious; I knew that he had something to lose to.

I felt like my head was mashed potatoes, and I was trying to ingest all of it. I was not a fighter. I was a silly little girl that used humor all day. My main goal every day was just to make somebody laugh. I became sick to my stomach. I tried to focus but it was all way too much. Fighting what, and learning what? At the time there was only one question that came to my mind and I had to ask it. Why me?

He drew a deep breath through his nose and exhaled it out his mouth. The expression on his face was a perplexing one. It seemed it was a difficult question for me to ask. He lowered his head and looked at the cold steel table. He sat there for maybe thirty seconds until finally he looked up, making eye contact with me once again. You're not the first one. I have trained other fighters. He leaned back in his chair again.

It seemed I had struck a nerve. The man that I just met, that I could've sworn was the devil had feelings. I didn't think harsher of the question, I just needed an answer. What did I have that any of the other girls didn’t?

You see. He just started shaking his head left to right. All girls use in these hen fights are usually homeless woman. Most homeless women don't have families, and if they disappear nobody cares. I could tell this part was a tad bit uneasy for him because he sat up in his chair and placed both his hands on the armrests and started swaying back and forth. You see, because homeless women have nothing to lose, they have nothing to gain either. So, there's a point at which down the road they give up. He started shaking his head again. He stopped and looked at me. The biggest problem is the health. At the time that we do pick them up, they are too unhealthy to survive the procedure.

I raised my right eyebrow. The procedure, you keep bringing this up, but you have yet to explain this to me. At this point the smart ass was gone. I was really concentrating and focusing on the conversation at hand. Yes I was a joker, but I knew when it was a time to be serious.

In hen fighting, He stated, beside the use of weapons, we are allowed to manipulate the human body. So… Surgery, any kind of body manipulation is possible, as long as the human body can survive. His eyes drifted left to right, and I could see he was thinking very thoroughly. Our sponsor has a lot of money. He is the head of a major pharmaceutical company. This procedure that we have adapted has been performed on a few girls, none of which have survived.

Because? I lifted both my arms wide. It was sad, but it was getting interesting.

He looked at me sharply, short fused. Because their health was not in order, or so I was told.

Oh. Gravy… My apple a day that kept the doctor away was now benefiting in my hen fighting competition, fantastic.

Barrett's low toned voice cut through the room and his words just shattered my mind. I felt as if I was given a death sentence, but I had no other choice. He played his cards well, and with the hand he played, he won. I put my thumbnail in my mouth and bit it hard. I took a deep breath and let it out fiercely. All right guy, you have my life in your hands. What other choice did I have? I did not want any harm to come to my mother.

He stood up quickly and slammed both his hands down on the table. A crooked wicked smile protruded from his face. Now that you understand the game, it is time for meat tenderizing. I must warn you though, this will not be easy. You will feel the most pain that you have ever felt in your life. The tenderizing is just the start. We need to know how high your tolerance for pain actually is.

Oh yeah, I was beginning to understand the game. But I was smart enough to know that at all games, it was possible to cheat.

He left the room, slamming the door behind him. I placed my right arm on the table cradling my bruised and abused head in my hand. I massaged my forehead trying to release some tension. From what I could feel my head was moist with blood. I was in pain, I had an extremely empty stomach, and I was trying to make sense of all the morning's events. I tried to close my eyes and wait for sleep to come. As soon as I started to slip into some sort of unconscious slumber, I heard the door open again. I lifted my head, put my hands into my lap, and patiently waited for the bag to be once again put over my head.

There was a shuffling sound and clomping of heavy boots behind me. I heard a familiar voice from the ride over. You want me to bag her boss?

As usual Barrett became short with Clive's forgetfulness. Clive you idiot, bag her and take her to the war room please… It's time for tenderizing.

God help me if they were going to tenderize me like a steak. I was a human being not a piece of meat, but unfortunately, when there's money involved, none of that really mattered...

As the black bag slid over my head I held my breath. I tried to close my eyes and think of a better place. I heard my chains clinking again and the sound of unlocking. Once again I was being led. We didn't walk very far, I counted around eight paces. We came to a stop and I heard another unlocking sound. It was really irritating being yanked around like a damn dog on a leash, but I had no other choice; I just went with the flow.

With the door now opened we walked into the room. Our steps just echoed. I was walked another fifteen paces, until I was abruptly stopped by Clive. No words no nothing, just the sound of my chains rattling. The clacking continued and the slack of my chains seemed to disappear. My arms began to rise. Higher and higher until they were both strung above my head. I began to feel the tension as they raised me higher on to my tippy toes, barely touching the floor.

This was nothing more than an awkward position. I felt nothing but extreme vulnerability. The door opened once again, and there was another set of footsteps menacing my hearing. They came closer and closer until the bag was ripped away from my head.

There was an explosive bright light blaring into my eyes. The rest of the room was completely dark. It took a while for my eyes to finally settle, but I recognized the man standing in front of me. It was Barrett. His face was dark and cold. His eyes filled with complete evil. He raised both his arms and slowly slid up my cheekbones. He came so close to my face our noses almost touched. He abruptly turned my face and whispered into my right ear, sorry, but this is going to hurt. He stepped back until he faded into the darkness and then I heard, Clive, do it.

Clive once again emerged from the shadows. He walked in front of me with his hands at his sides. Dis is meat tenderizing. Hold on to ya nipples. He lifted his right hand and backhanded me in the face. It was only the first of many to come. Hits to my right and hits to my left, over and over again till I could feel the blood gushing out of my face, out of my cheekbones, and from my lips. I tried to cry out in pain, but there