Mordechai brought Arlyiss over to the bed and roughly pushed her face first onto it. He gripped and lifted her hips up to meet his waist. He took his belt off and held it in one hand as he brutally pushed inside of her with one quick motion. Her pain burned white and she lost all other sensation for a moment. Then, his belt came cracking down onto her back and brought her back into harsh reality.

Arlyiss cowered beneath Mordecai. The belt cracked and whistled through the air as it met her without mercy. Welts, raw flesh, and skin stripped from the body were swelling with her blood and trickled across her skin. The pain of each blow melted into the other. The large sweltering heaving man intermingled the blood from her back with his own beaded oily sweat dripping from his brow. He was angry. A roiling mass of flesh screaming from exertion. A roaring bellow erupting from his ale laden chest with each and every swing of the belt.

The air filled with the stench of blood, the heavy musk of sweat, and the nauseating ooze of fermented hops. 

Mordecai was undisciplined and prone to bouts of fanatical rage. He was often sadistic. And, enjoyed inflicting pain on others. Brutal, decisive, and stupid, he poured every ounce of strength he could into each beating. 

A few were known to have died from Mordecai's attentions. Arlyiss had received more than her share from him. It was him, it always seemed to be him. 

Mordecai was the one that had first started beating her when she couldn't pay. He was the first to raise a belt against her. He was the first that had taken her, used and abused her until she had lost consciousness. But, there were others, there were always others, she had to earn her right to live somehow. And, there was always someone that wanted something from her body. 

Abuse. Sex. Work. It didn’t matter, she had to survive first and foremost. 

“Now, we know each other a bit better…” A cruel chuckle emanated from his chest. “Who did ya bring yer coin?”

Arlyiss kept quiet, even as the questions and the rough treatment continued. But, she found it increasingly difficult to block everything out. The sound of Mordecai’s heavy breath, the rough texture of her bed, and the searing pain of him forcing his way inside of her kept getting worse and more unbearable. The oppressive stench of his sweat baked body and fetid breath mixed together and rained down on her. The lacerations on her skin from his belt, and inside of her from his rough movements, stung and throbbed, searing the whole experience into her mind. 

It wasn’t this difficult last time, not that Mordechai was being any more gentle or rough this time. But, Arlyiss didn’t understand why she couldn’t block it out. The ability to escape was her only saving grace from the years of abuse, rape, and traumatic pain. She was used to this sort of treatment, but today was different for some reason. 

Hope.

The reason suddenly reached out to her. She was going to escape. She was going to leave it all behind. All of her plans were in motion. She wouldn’t have to put up with any more of this sick, depraved, degradation. She wouldn’t have to sell herself on these streets anymore. She wouldn’t have to touch another man. She wouldn’t have to submit to them, or anyone, ever again. 

Escape.

A pained smile parted her lips amidst the tears, agony and torment. She didn’t know how long this ordeal had lasted, but she felt something snap inside of her. An inappropriate maniacal laughter breaking out from within her. She had already won. She didn’t have to suffer through any of this anymore. She was done with this lifestyle and could begin entirely anew. Away from the pain. Away from the heartache. Away from Mordechai, Ezra and most importantly from her father.

Mordechai raised his belt and brought it down with his full force on her back. A new gash and several welts opening up across her porcelain skin. His forceful attempts to get her to quiet down didn’t work. She kept laughing hysterically as if she snapped. He flipped her over and brusquely slapped her face.  “None of that now.”

The world lost focus. It was difficult to concentrate on anything, even the pain faded out. Then, it all streamlined into one singular detail. A knife. 

Mordechai still had his knife attached to his pants.