The Survival

This is the story of the survival of a girl who was being harboured by fugitives wanted across the country for kidnapping, rape and murder. This is the story of her encounters with these men and how she survived it. Did she escape? Did she survive without scars? Is she mentally stable? Can she escape her own mind??

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4. Waking Up

I spluttered as I woke, my vision blurry from the night's sleep and the tears I had shed. There was a smell, a distinct smell. I remember it clearly, I couldn't work out what it was. But it was sour - a sour musky smell. I put my hand to the floor to steady myself and found it placed amongst a wet and lumpy liquid. I groaned in disgust and subsequently clasped my hands to my throat. The pain was almost unbearable, it felt as if someone was dragging a jagged edge up the inside of my throat. I heaved as I realised what the stench was - I could see it beneath my hands and feet. I was surrounded by a pool of vomit, a part of me wished it was someone else's, but I knew it was mine, it had to be. There was no one else here. Suddenly I heard footsteps coming down the moist stairway into my prison. It was a man, judging by his large, burly figure, then in a deep, gruff voice he shouted something up the stairway, back the way he had come. I couldn't understand his words, they must have been Russian, or Serbian. Something. But I knew what it wasn't. It wasn't anything I knew or could understand. He turned and looked directly at me as I did him through my half closed eyelids. He stalked towards me and pulled at a flask attached to his belt. I sighed almost silently, and yet he noticed. He grasped hold of the hair at the back of my head and pushed the mouth of the flask to my dry, peeling lips. I looked at his face. And as he let me drink he gave me a disturbing half smile.

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