There were some good sides to being a captive.
The pool.
Twice the size and depth of the one in Penzance, and even more glorious and luxurious, I lost count of many hours I spent swimming. Best of all, it had a glass ceiling, allowing me to float on my back and watch the sun, or the moon.
It was, in a word, heaven.
I honestly believed I spent more time underwater than I did on the surface, and all the swimming I did helped build my strength back up, and it wasn't long before I was back to holding my breath at the deeper end of the pool, clinging to the ladder as I rode the familiar spasms and burning which told me I was only seconds away from running out of air. It was an intoxicating feeling to push myself to the edge - sometimes I even pushed myself right over, the airlessness in my lungs making me feel alive, although I did have to spend a few minutes with my head above water afterwards, taking deep breaths to flush the excess carbon dioxide out of my system.
Of course, it never took me long before I'd built up enough steam to go under again, ready for another round of seeing how far I could push myself.
I lost count of how many times I dived right to the bottom, before swimming the full length of the pool, seeing how many laps I could do before I needed to come back up for air. I always paid a bit closer attention to my body's needs during such swims, especially when I was at the deeper end, always making sure I had enough air in my lungs to make it to the surface.
Still, it was fun to sometimes push myself just the smallest bit over the edge, before finally giving in and taking that first sweet breath of air after being underwater for so long.
But it was honestly intoxicating. When I was wandering the massive dimensions of my prison, I was always reminded of my situation. I was a captive, and while I wasn't in a box covered in my own filth, I felt as trapped here as I had back then. And with no one to talk to, it was overwhelmingly lonely, at times almost maddening.
But when I was underwater, it all melted away, and I lost myself in the sensation of the water flowing over my body, the light rippling across the tiles , and the bubbles that escaped when I'd been under a bit too long.
Still, as the days passed, even the pleasures of the underwater world that awaited me began to fade away, and I watched in heartbreak as the trees changed from green to gold, and the air started growing colder. With no calendars, I had no idea how long I'd been here, but I knew it had been long enough, by the time Samuel came to my room in the middle of autumn.
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It was another sunny autumn day. Deciding to take in an extra long swim after lunch, I did just that, because, to be frank, it was better for my mental health to be somewhere where I could be happy.
That happiness, however, when I returned to my room and found Samuel standing at the window, hands folded behind his back.
My heart stopped, and I swallowed, closing the door softly behind me, before lowering my head, my eyes averted as I'd been taught. But I refused to give in to the old feelings of shame, instead focusing on the way my lungs had burned to the point of pain earlier as I hung on to the ladder, the way my diaphragm had spasmed more urgently with every passing moment I spent underwater, refusing the siren's call of the air waiting above, bubbles bursting free in increasing intervals, before I'd finally run out of air and had to haul myself up to the surface, gasping, but feeling incredibly alive.
Still, as I watched Samuel's feet approach me, I felt constricted by fear. Nevertheless, I was determined not to let him break me psychologically, as he'd done last autumn and winter. He wasn't going to get inside my skin again.
"Enjoying the accomodations, bitch?" he sneered.
"I am, Gamma Samuel," I replied.
He grunted. "You don't deserve it," he said coldly. "Remember?"
I winced. "I remember, Gamma Samuel," I said, recalling that last, literally breathless moment in the pool. It steadied my spinning senses, allowing me to beat back Samuel's insidious words.
"I don't think you do, you stupid bitch," he said, seizing me by the hair and forcing my head up. "Look at me," he ordered, and, compelled by pain, I made myself look him in the eyes.
I immediately wished I hadn't.
Samuel's eyes were cold, full of lust, but also a loathing that cut right to the centre of my being, a loathing that scoured me from head to toe and left me feeling very small, just as it had done last autumn. He desired me, but he hated me, and I trembled in his cold grasp. Not even James had been like this in his worst moments towards me - and he actually loved me.
I never saw the blow coming; the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, seeing stars, whilst also incogruously thankful none of my new teeth had been knocked out. Samuel stood over me, breathing heavily.
"God alive," he said contemptuously. "You are the stupidest bitch to walk the planet. James doesn't want a pathetic, traitorous little idiot like you. Now get the fuck up, you dumb bitch."
I got slowly to my feet, remembering to keep my eyes averted. I knew Samuel was wrong.
He grunted and hit me again, and this time, my head rebounded against the floor when I hit the deck. "Are you fucking retarded?" Samuel demanded. "He doesn't want you." With a growl, he seized me by the hair and threw me onto the bed. I had no chance or time to recover; Samuel was on top of me faster than I could blink, kissing me forcefully, one hand on the back of my neck, holding me in place, forcing his tongue between my teeth. I tried keeping my mouth shut, but he squeezed my neck, rendering me immobile, using the other hand to press on my jaw, and I almost gagged as his tongue entered my mouth, and the more I tried not to engage, the deeper he pushed, until I thought for sure he was going to choke me. In the end, he got his way, but I made sure to be as uninvolved in the prolonged kiss as much as possible, passively letting his tongue move around mine, making no movement to actually kiss him back. But I couldn't breathe, and the longer the kiss went on, the more certain I was going to run out of air. I tried feebly to move my head so I could at least get some air in through my nose, but Samuel wasn't having any of it; I soon found his hand on the side of my head, keeping me still as he continued to rape my mouth. There was a high-pitched ringing in my ears, and dark spots were swirling acorss my vision as my body finally succumbed to the lack of air, and I passed out.
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