My thoughts have turned darker in the last hour. The hope I took for granted all my life has faded. It is almost impossible to believe in anything.
The bruises from the hands of my captors have become a familiar throb, but blood flows from the wounds inflicted by the last customer.
In a way, my death will free me, except I can’t see anything ahead but darkness and pain. I try to pray. The words won’t come. Darkness folds over me.
Bright light wakes me. I’m in a hospital bed and a kind-faced woman attends me. Is it real?

6 thoughts on “Victim

  1. I’m so glad my story found a home here on Drabble and that you all seemed to get what I had hoped. It isn’t autobiographical, but one day when I sat down to pray for the victims of human trafficking, I wondered . . . what if a woman had been so hurt that she couldn’t quite believe in rescue? So, that started this story.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s