THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M

For abuse and implied rape. Non-graphic, I really don't want to go into detail, but it's an adult topic hence the higher rating.

If you don't want to read then it shouldn't impact too much on the storyline, but obviously it does add to the plot else I wouldn't put it in and there might be some things later that you don't fully get if you haven't read it. I don't think it's too bad, but just to be safe I've given you a warning :]

It's my thirteenth birthday. The day I officially become an adult. The day my slavery begins. The cell I'm in is damp and dark, lit only by a single, dim, bare bulb. The only furniture is a mouldy mattress on the floor and a bucket for me to piss in. The door only opens with a key. A key I'll never have. From now on this is my home.

I cringe as I hear the door unlock. What are they going to do to me? It opens and a man steps through, tall and thin and stinking of smoke and alcohol. What is he going to do to me? He locks the door behind him and crouches down to look at me, his eyes leering and his breath making me choke as it blows in my face. He reaches a hand down and grabs my chin. Oh Mother, what is he going to do to me?

Suddenly his hands grab my shoulders, jerking me up. He grins and the sight makes me feel sick. His hands travel down my body, slowly feeling my virtually non-existent curves. Don't scream. Don't shout. Don't struggle. Don't fight. I cling to everything I've been taught, letting it flow through my head like a mantra. But when his fingers snake their way under my ragged dress I can't help myself and I whimper with fear. This only widens the grin and his hands grip me tighter, bruising my skin. He starts to rip off my dress, literally tearing the fabric. His fingernails leave welts on my skin.

Suddenly I don't care anymore. I don't care what they taught me. I don't care if it makes it worse. It can't get much worse. This is wrong and I can't stand it and I won't let them do it without a fight.

I start to struggle, to writhe and wriggle and thrash. The man only laughs and throws me against the wall, pushing himself against me. I bring my knee up between his legs and struggle even more, trying to break his grip but this only earns me a hand around my throat, squeezing until I can barely breathe, the air scraping my throat as I gasp and wheeze.

"You little bitch!"

I know now there's nothing more I can do. He's too strong and I'm too weak. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up. Despite the hand on my throat I scream, loud and shrill and wild and full of terror. I don't stop until he's finished with me, leaving me to slide down the wall in a shivering heap, cold, crying, alone, bleeding. And what's worse is a simple truth. One tiny thought that slips through my terrified mind.

This is only the first night.