Chapter Ten: Resistance After Being Kidnapped by a Serial KillerShe could hear her own breathing, the heavy rain blurring her vision. All around was darkness, her gaze swaying with her movements, a hazy, dark scene in the center of her vision, indistinct and blurry, only vaguely discernible figures.
Fine rain lashed at her face, and she heard a crackling sound like a radio losing its signal. A man in a raincoat was digging a deep pit with his back to her. The woman lying on the ground was mangled, her face smashed by a hammer like a pile of rotten flesh, thick, red and white liquid splattered everywhere. She seemed dead, but her body was still convulsing.
The icy rain pierced her bones, her chest heaving. In her hazy state, she felt the man stop. In the dim light, black shoes approached. Her vision cleared and then blurred again. Hearing the slow, approaching footsteps on the muddy ground, her vision cleared again, and she clearly saw the soaking wet shoes before her.
Water droplets, continuously sliding down her raincoat, dripped onto her thighs, the pattering rain rustling through the woods. The sound of breathing around her grew louder. Her gaze slowly moved upwards; she couldn't make out his face in the darkness, but the oppressive feeling emanating from him had already gathered in her chest.
A shovel, raised high, hovered above her head. Her gaze lingered on his face, not hidden by the brim of his hat. A murky drop of water slid down the man's chin. Her long eyelashes trembled slightly. After the shovel was swung violently, she was plunged into darkness.
"Ah—"
A long, rapid breath escaped her lips. She awoke with a start, her heart feeling as if gripped by an invisible hand. She curled up, gasping for breath, desperately breathing, like a drowning person greedily inhaling the cold air.
The airflow slid into her body through her trachea, and it took her a long time to recover from the brink of death.
She was drenched in sweat, her forehead already soaked. She seemed utterly exhausted, finally collapsing to the ground, bound by the ropes.
The only sound in the silent room was the woman's soft, labored breathing. The cold-toned room, imbued with a sense of rationality, made her pale body stand out most strikingly in this indifferent environment. A delicate blush, contrasting with her snow-white skin, was clearly visible against the friction of the ropes against her skin.
Beside her was a small single bed, and she lay pitifully naked on the wooden floor. Her delicate, plum-red breasts, perched atop proud, snow-capped peaks, trembled in the cold air, their secrets, like buds waiting to bloom, hidden in the garden of her breasts.
The faint sound of rain reached her ears, her long eyelashes trembled, and in a devastating nightmare, she opened her eyes again. The entire scene in the room came into view—it was the very room where she had first been violated.
She let out a soft groan, tentatively trying to sit up, her movements trembling and far more difficult than she had imagined.
Her waist ached terribly from the torture, and her lower abdomen seemed to be swelling slightly with some strange liquid. Using her waist for support inadvertently pulled at her lower body, causing a sharp pain in her swollen opening.
She gasped, her pretty face contorted, and it took her a while to bear the pain. As if making a decision, she leaned back against the furniture on either side and stood up. But her joy was short-lived; her face turned deathly pale, and she bit her lower lip, feeling something slowly flowing in her passage.
Her shoulders trembled slightly as she gasped for breath, taking several deep breaths to suppress the rising emotions in her chest.
The man had bound her hands and feet, making movement extremely difficult. It was eerily quiet outside; she assumed the man had gone out.
Beside the bed was a window, something she'd noticed last time. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she balanced herself and reached out to pull back a corner of the curtains. Light streamed in, dim yet illuminating the even darker space.
The courtyard was desolate, a wall isolating her from the outside world, but the wall wasn't very high, enough for her to see the window on the second floor opposite.
The iron security bars on the windows, like those separating prisoners, confined her inside. She tried to push the window, but it was locked with an iron chain, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't open it. Frustrated, she gave up and lowered the curtains.
It was a rectangular room. The bed was against the window, and beside the headboard was a wooden wardrobe. Opposite the bed was a table with scattered items. The right corner was where she'd seen the person lying when she woke up.
She didn't want to think about it; she just desperately wanted to get out of this horrible place. She couldn't bear to face that terrifying man again—a complete madman, a demon who took pleasure in killing.
She couldn't imagine what kind of torture she would suffer if she stayed in this house any longer, nor could she imagine the madness her older brother, with whom she had promised to celebrate her birthday, would feel when he discovered she was missing. A
chill ran down her spine, and a voice inside urged her to escape. She clumsily hopped towards the door, each jump causing her full breasts to sway up and down. Her cheeks flushed, and she suppressed her shame as she reached the door.
Fortunately, the door wasn't locked. She mustered her courage and pressed the handle. The door slowly opened, revealing the entire house to her. The kitchen was open-plan. She circled around to a cabinet and found the only knife she had.
The fruit knife was very sharp. She gripped the handle and, in an extreme posture, sharpened the rope binding her hands. When her hands were free, a smile appeared on her face, but it didn't last long. A sharp sound came from outside, and her heart tightened. She cautiously looked outside.
Holding her breath, the "snap" didn't repeat. After what seemed like a long while, there was still no movement outside. She breathed a sigh of relief, nervously crouching down to cut the rope binding her ankles. Completely freeing herself, she felt a huge weight lifted from her heart, finding some peace.
Following yesterday's memory, she made her way to the bathroom. Standing at the door, she felt apprehensive, but remembering she needed to hurry, she mustered her courage and went inside. Without the warm, damp smoke, the room was much better. She picked up her clothes from the floor and unfolded them. The skirt was torn several times, and although washed clean by the hot water yesterday, it was still wet.
As for her underwear, she forced herself to put it on, her face contorted in pain. The fluid slowly flowing from her vagina dripped down, soaking her cotton panties, making her face even more pale. She reached for a tissue and embarrassedly wiped her genitals.
She tossed the tissue into the trash can and was about to leave when her vagina, as if seeing delicious food, began to ooze a thick, greedy fluid. She bit her lower lip, squeezed her legs together, and headed outside.
The windows inside, like those in the bedroom, resembled a prison cell. She called out several times, but to no avail. There were no communication devices inside, and she only had a fruit knife. She was frantic, sweating profusely.
Just as she looked outside, a sound suddenly came from outside—this time a real sound, the sound of the red iron door being opened from the outside.
She froze like a startled deer, completely at a loss. But somehow her gaze fell on the sharp knife beside her. Hesitantly, she picked up the sharp fruit knife, her breathing becoming rapid, her heart pounding.
The scene of their passionate union flashed through her mind, and she seemed to hear those shameful gasps again. Gritting her teeth, she summoned immense courage and gripped the sharp knife with unwavering resolve.
A light rain fell. The car was parked smoothly beside her. A round black umbrella crossed the courtyard, stepping across the flagstones to the eaves. Waterlogged steps were left in the wooden streaks. The sound of a lock opening mingled with the rain. The doorknob turned to the left, and the door opened a crack.
Instantly, a gleaming blade flew from directly in front of her. The woman screamed. The knife fell to the ground with a crisp sound. She looked up, turning to face the man looking down at her.
Drops of blood fell to the ground, like blooming flowers, exquisitely beautiful.
Her clear eyes reflected the man's tall figure. She clenched her fists, and in a split second, reached for the sharp knife lying nearby. Gripping the handle, she aimed the tip at her heart and thrust forward, but felt a sharp pain in her hand. The fruit knife fell heavily to the ground again, sliding a short distance before coming to a stop.
She collapsed to the ground, face down, her long hair falling loosely on either side. Her shoulders trembled, tears streaming down her cheeks. She bit her lower lip tightly, whimpering softly, filled with terror, utter terror.
She could feel the man's gaze fixed on her. A chill ran through her; tears streamed down her face, yet she was filled with resentment.
She heard the man walk to the back, take something from a drawer beside the door, pause beside her, give a slightly mocking laugh, and walk away.
Not a word was spoken; the only sound in the room was her soft sobs. The man, travel-worn and carrying shopping bags, walked steadily to the dining table, placed the bags on it, opened the first-aid kit, and slowly sat down to treat his wounds.
Beneath the black baseball cap lay a pair of cold, murderous eyes. Tears streamed down her face as she cautiously watched this unusually man.
The man caught the knife; the blade pierced his flesh but didn't seriously injure him. She watched as bandages wrapped around his hand. He cut off the excess, put the medical supplies back in the kit, and just as she watched him anxiously, that icy gaze fell upon her.
Zhou Xinyan shivered, her body stiffening with fear. A bead of crystal-clear sweat trickled down her forehead, and stray, damp hair clung to her face. She was terrified, yet unable to feign panic. It was as if she were being watched by a python lurking in the shadows, forgetting how to run, forgetting how to breathe evenly. She could only stand there, frozen, waiting for his move. The
silence was so profound that only the sound of the wind whistling through the glass could be heard. Her long, soft black hair made her appear tragically beautiful. She slumped to the ground, her toes twitching, like a child caught doing something wrong, bewildered, listening to him ask,
"What are you doing?"
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Chapter Eleven of "After Being Kidnapped by a Serial Killer": Oral Sex (H)The man's voice was deep, and beneath his thin long shirt, one could vaguely see the taut lines of his muscles. His legs were long, almost perfectly proportioned to his torso. Hidden in the darkness, his undisguised aggression became even more pronounced.
In an instant, she seemed to possess the instincts of a predator, sensing the danger in the air. She didn't speak, but slowly stood up, her pale fingers pressed together against her exposed cleavage. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her exposed legs were white and straight. Upon closer inspection, a small brown mole could be seen at the edge of her thigh.
She wasn't far from the man, only a dozen steps away. Her heart pounded, she lowered her eyes, glancing at him timidly. Her gaze was clear as a spring, pure and ethereal, clean and untouched by any dust.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
His voice was devoid of warmth, even colder than the automated voice message on a phone.
Zhou Xinyan was nervous, watching the man open the convenience bag and take out its contents one by one. She dared not move, clutching the soft flesh of the back of her hand, and nervously averted her gaze. Suddenly, she heard the man say, "Come here."
Zhou Xinyan looked up and saw the man still fiddling with the things in his hands, as if he hadn't spoken to her at all.
She felt as if she had just woken from a dream. In the extremely oppressive atmosphere, she took small steps and walked over. She moved with extreme caution, and it took a lot of courage to sit in the corner. The window was covered by curtains, so there was no light—a perfect crime scene.
The man placed the last box on the table and turned to walk towards the cupboard. Zhou Xinyan's pupils widened as she watched the man bend down and pick up the blood-stained knife. The blade reflected a cold light, and in that reflected light, she saw the man's gaze.
Gloomy, more oppressive than the weather outside.
She gripped her thighs tightly, her nerves taut, staring intently at him with her bright, watery eyes.
He used the blood-stained fruit knife to cut open the box containing the food, tossing the packaging aside. He sat down, the two of them quite a distance apart, yet within arm's reach.
He toyed with the sharp knife in his hand, the atmosphere growing increasingly tense. Zhou Xinyan swallowed hard, her eyes lowered, her hands trembling with fear. She bit her lower lip to keep quiet.
The silence was eerily unsettling. She couldn't feel the man's movements, nor hear his breathing. It seemed as if she were alone in the room, which only intensified her anxiety.
She tentatively lifted her eyelids, only to see his legs fall to the ground. After a long pause, sensing his still inaction, she took a deep breath and lifted her eyes again. Her movement was so swift that her gaze met his deep pupils.
Startled, before she could react, his burning hand gripped her wrist. She screamed and threw herself into his arms.
Her head slammed against his hard abdomen. Dizzy, she instinctively clung to his thigh, looking up at the man holding the knife. The knife spun in his hand, but he couldn't hurt it. The hand she had just cut was pressing down on her back, preventing her from getting up.
It was like walking into a trap. She trembled, the cool breeze seeping in from the window making her shiver. Her eyes widened in terror as she knelt between the man's legs, her cold body able to clearly feel the heat emanating from him.
She panicked even more, unsure where to look, only a sudden thought flashing through her mind: she felt foolish for her suicide attempt, yet also deeply regretful.
Song Heng looked down at the woman slumped on the ground. She was clearly dazed; her long, black hair obscured half her pretty face, her bright red lips glistening with saliva. From this angle, he could see her barely concealed breasts and the soft touch of her thigh pressed against his.
They were very close; through their clothes, he could almost feel the dampness and fragrance emanating from her.
Her innocent expression seemed to beckon him, tempting him to completely, fiercely, and without reservation invade, plunder, and possess her.
His deep eyes darkened, a chill running through him.
Song Heng bent down, one arm resting on his knee. He reached out and lifted the woman's face, forcing her to look directly at him.
Song Heng's oppressive aura reached its peak; she had never encountered anyone whose mere gaze could instill such fear in her. He blew a breath at her, and Zhou Xinyan turned her head away, but he grabbed her chin and pulled it back.
It was the scent of mint, refreshing and sweet, with a hint of warmth.
She closed her eyes, holding her breath. The man wasn't annoyed; he simply pulled her hand towards a certain place.
When she felt a strange sensation on her fingertips, she became suspicious. She
closed her eyes, rolling her pupils to try and figure out what it was. The terrifying thing she'd seen yesterday slowly surfaced in her mind, and she immediately opened her eyes, quickly withdrawing her hand. She held his hand, feeling the heat of his groin even through his pants—a large bulge, burning hot like a furnace .
"No…please don't…" she whispered, resisting, yet pleadingly clasping her hands together.
Her lower body still throbbed with pain; even if she wanted to die, she didn't want to be the one dying in bed.
The man leaned down at her, his eyes like still water, cold and piercing.
"Are you scared?" he asked expressionlessly, though she sensed a threat in his tone.
She felt uncertain, biting her lower lip, her heart pounding.
"Scared?" the man repeated, a primal suspicion. She nodded quickly, her nose stinging, tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.
The man laughed, a sinister laugh, a chilling laugh.
His voice was low and soft, the breath brushing against her eyes, causing large tears to fall from the corners of her eyes.
"But... wasn't it you who approached me then? Now that you're scared, there's no reason for you to escape."
That call, seemingly from hell, suddenly terrified her. She was truly terrified. Just being stared at by the man made her heart pound and her breath catch in her throat. The fear emanated from the deepest recesses of her being, surging like a tide, like a fishing net catching any fish that slipped through.
She sobbed, shaking her head like a rattle-drum. She didn't know if being alive was a blessing or a curse. That woman was dead, but she was alive.
Living in such humiliation was harder to accept than death.
The dim light created an ambiguous atmosphere. The man unzipped his pants, and a huge thing sprang out. Because of the close proximity, the thick rod struck her directly in the face. She gasped and leaned back to avoid it.
"This...this..."
Too ashamed to speak, her face flushed crimson, utterly mortified. It was the first time she'd seen a man's penis so closely, so clearly, that she could see every line, the veins bulging, and a faint, hot, fishy smell wafted towards her.
She felt like she was going crazy. The large, red glans, the size of a pigeon egg, was steaming hot against her, the almost invisible opening oozing white pre-ejaculate, the dark shaft thick and menacing. She
couldn't understand how her lower body could have taken in such a behemoth. Terrified, she looked at Song Heng in disbelief. Song Heng was looking at her too. The woman had bright eyes and white teeth, tears clinging to
her eyelashes, her pale face filled with fear—a sight that would make anyone's heart ache. "You...you...what are you going to do?" These simple words took almost all her strength. Her eyes were red and watery, her alluring appearance tantalizing.
Song Heng gently pressed his hand on the back of her head, pushing her head forward. She bumped into his abdomen again, wrapped her arms around his waist, and felt a hot rod pressing against her chest.
Clearly completely ignorant in this area, Zhou Xinyan was terrified and confused about what he was doing. The hot, hard tip of his penis, along with her clothes, pierced the crevice between her breasts. She tried to pull away again, but Song Heng stopped her, trapping her in his hormone-filled embrace.
She had nowhere to hide, her nostrils filled with that unpleasant smell. She heard the man whisper something in her ear, but her attention was drawn to the scent. She felt lost in a fog, bewildered and only then realizing what was happening.
His smile was meaningful—fear? Or perhaps horror? Or…
"No! You can't do this!" Zhou Xinyan frantically pushed him away, trying to stand up using her legs, but a sudden force pulled her down.
She fell to the ground, her hair disheveled, looking like a pitiful, helpless doll.
He scooped her up with his strong, powerful arms, his hard penis pressed against her lower abdomen. They were pressed tightly together, his dark eyes reflecting her image. He pinched her chin and said, "Why not?"
Zhou Xinyan couldn't speak. She could see herself reflected in the man's pupils, like a ceramic vase, her face as white as paper.
The man pressed her down. She couldn't explain herself, her gaze shifting downwards, her expression extremely ugly. Her hands gripped the man's thighs. She heard a voice above her, saying, "Open your mouth."
At the same time, something cold slid across her back. She shuddered, feeling something sharp against her lower back. Resigned, she trembled as she reached out to grasp his penis. His penis was thick and long, too large to be fully encircled with one hand.
The penis was crimson, looking incredibly terrifying. She opened her mouth tremblingly, slowly approaching the enormous thing. Her tongue darted out, tentatively touching the glans. The moment she touched it, she felt the penis in her hand tremble, as if it were about to ejaculate.
Her expression turned terrified. She felt the erect penis in her hand, as if it were ready to greet her with full force. The faint, fishy smell lingered in her mouth. Suppressing her nausea, she bent down and took the glans into her mouth. The man sighed, a strange sound that seemed both pleasurable and painful.
The penis filled her entire mouth. She had no idea what she was doing, only trying to keep her teeth closed, her tongue gently licking the head. White semen was rolled into her mouth, tasting very strange, unlike anything else.
Afraid that the knife behind her would kill her, her eyes reddened, she began to imitate intercourse. The penis went in and out of her mouth, her movements clumsy, yet carrying a strange pleasure.
Her head was buried in the man's crotch, her back straight, the curves of her waist and her voluptuous buttocks seeming to beckon deeper penetration.
The woman's expression was pained, yet the unintentional moans she let out were incredibly seductive. Although she was giving the man oral sex, her swollen, hidden vulva was being stimulated, releasing a torrent of fluid. A thin, clear liquid slid down her bare legs, flowing rapidly, just as quickly as it secreted.
She silently squeezed her legs together, her face flushed. It was just oral sex, yet she felt an overwhelming emptiness. An itch emanated from her vulva, which secreted even more fluid. Her small mouth opened and closed, yearning for something larger to fill it, an unbearable urge. Her face was flushed, her
forehead covered in fine sweat. The man's panting filled her ears, and the penis in her mouth grew even larger. The thought of being penetrated and brutally fucked by this massive thing crossed her mind. Her body reddened, and this thought grew stronger, her vulva feeling utterly empty.
She couldn't help but want to rub her legs together, but could only grasp the exposed part of the penis with both hands, sucking it like a glutton.
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Chapter Twelve of "After Being Kidnapped by a Serial Killer" (Bonus Chapter)The moans emanating from her nose were like a seductive poison; the man's breathing became heavy, and he pressed his hand down hard on the back of her head.
The woman whimpered, as if unable to withstand the violent impact; his penis pressed against her throat, sending a sharp pain through her.
She protested with whimpers, yet her vagina desperately craved penetration. As the man's invasion grew more intense, her vagina seemed to reach its peak. The instant he laid her down, her lower body blossomed like a flower through her panties, gushing out a large amount of nectar.
The orgasm lasted for a short while, spraying onto her thighs, the corner of the table, and the man's shoes. Her fair skin glowed red, and a lewd aura lingered in the air. She slumped to the ground, her throat sore, her face flushed, panting heavily.
Supporting herself with her hands, her thighs sticky and her legs weak, she gasped for breath for a while before recovering from the ecstasy of her orgasm. When she realized what had happened, she timidly raised her eyelids to look at the man. He was staring at her with his eyes closed, his expression ambiguous. His massive member was still erect, glistening with her saliva.
She swallowed, feeling both ashamed and fearful. As if to cover up what had just happened, she slowly moved to the man's crotch, opened her mouth, and took his hot member into her mouth. She was even more vigorous than before, and the only sound in the quiet room was her gurgling sucking.
The bathroom door was wide open, and the glass directly opposite reflected the man and woman outside. The woman was buried between the man's legs, her body swaying with each thrust. Her reddened eyes were already tinged with unconscious lust, and her private parts, covered by her thighs, flowed like a spring, the slurring sound seeming to imbue the air with an ambiguous atmosphere.
The intercourse lasted for an unknown amount of time, until the massive member in her mouth trembled, and the man let out a low growl, ejaculating a large amount of semen, seemingly marking the end.
Zhou Xinyan knelt on the ground, coughing and patting her chest, spitting out the thick semen from her mouth as she did so. The unexpected ejaculation had caused her to accidentally swallow a small amount of semen, the nauseating, fishy smell making her dizzy. She leaned weakly against the man's legs, panting, her chest heaving, the lustful fluid between her legs almost soaking her skirt, a scene of extreme lewdness.
The man licked his lips, and his penis, which had just ceased its activity, became erect again, even more terrifying than before. Zhou Xinyan was terrified and hurriedly stood up, but the man simply lifted her up and dragged her onto his lap.
Her legs were spread apart, and her open vulva secreted abundant lustful fluid, staining her legs so much that it directly soaked the fabric, making the sticky mess everywhere.
She wrapped her arms around the man's neck, her face flushed as she clamped her legs together. Due to the height difference, her bare feet intentionally or unintentionally touched the man's ankles, creating an incredibly erotic scene reflected in the bathroom mirror.
The man's calloused hands slipped under her skirt, sliding between her thighs and into her opening. The valley between her white, pert buttocks was perfectly concealed. Two slender fingers maliciously probed the entrance, spreading open her swollen vulva and mercilessly thrusting in, churning the already wet opening until it was murky and turbid.
The woman clung to the owner of those hands, whispering seductive moans against his neck. Her inner thighs itched. The two fingers didn't provide the intense, painful pleasure of the powerful strokes of his penis, but they felt strange. The slightest touch of his rounded fingertips against the soft flesh of her vulva made her tremble and moan uncontrollably, like a wildcat in heat.
The man breathed heavily in her ear, his firm muscles pressing against her breasts. One hand weakly pressed against his chest, like a drowning person grasping at a straw, enduring the torment of the mischievous fingers inside her while unwilling to let go. Soon,
the man withdrew his fingers, glistening with a honeyed fluid like drool. His large hands lifted her skirt, then wrapped around her slender waist and slowly lowered her. When her panties slipped off, his enormous glans pressed unimpeded against her entrance, and she snapped out of her daze.
"No! You can't! You can't do this!" she cried
, her voice trembling. Her legs trembled in the cold air. Like a ripe peach, she was driven mad by some unknown emotion. She struggled, tilting her body recklessly, her desire to break free growing stronger. A wave
of overwhelming humiliation washed over her. Driven only by instinct, she resisted his intrusion while held captive in his arms.
Ignoring her resistance, the man released her despite her protests. A scream escaped her lips, and he gasped. The sensation of his penis being fully inserted was incomparable; her soft flesh enveloped his member, as if to devour him, sending shivers down his spine.
Zhou Xinyan cried, cried loudly. His member pressed hard against her cervix, completely filling the passage, leaving no space, no room for anything else, as if to destroy her, to destroy this plaything.
The man thrust upwards, his penis threatening to penetrate her uterus. The narrower passage gripped his penis, exuding a tranquil aura, as if beckoning him forward, fueling his excitement.
Zhou Xinyan wept, pounding her fists on his chest. She was truly dying. This wasn't sex; it was a crueler way of taking her life.
She was rendered speechless by the thrusting, her entire body trembling. Already weak and powerless, she had no strength left to resist. She could only gasp for breath, tears streaming down her face, adding a tragic dimension to their union.
The wind outside blew wildly, while the air inside was even more decadent. Their private parts were pressed tightly together, the woman's scent sweet and cloying, like freshly made jam, irresistible.
She clung to the man's broad shoulders, her body bobbing up and down with his rhythm. A relentless pain surged from below as the man, like a ferocious beast, relentlessly took from her.
"Ah...no...stop...ah...stop..."
The iron rod wreaked havoc inside her, the squeezed fluids splattering. Warm hands pressed against her back; she was forced into his arms, enduring this overwhelming sexual assault.
Hot sweat soaked her clothes, her short breaths brushed against the man's Adam's apple. She was utterly powerless, her lower body clenching tightly around his penis, yet the malicious thrusts caused both pain and numbness.
Only after the man released inside her did she collapse onto his shoulder, panting weakly, like a broken doll, lifeless.
-
Late at night, Zhou Xinyan was awakened by hunger and aching. Two people lay on the small single bed, very close together; she could faintly smell his scent.
A small gap remained between them. She lay on the other side, naked except for a thin blanket. As she sat up, the blanket slipped down to between her breasts. She pressed the blanket tightly against her chest, having no idea how she had passed out or what had happened.
The room was quiet. She drew back the curtains, the dim light illuminating her face. She squinted, watching the continued downpour. Lights were on in the house across the street, making it impossible to tell the time, but from the unobstructed window, she could see two people arguing fiercely in the dead of night.
She lowered the curtain, cautiously stepping over the man and getting out of bed. Her legs were weak, but the urge to urinate was unbearable. She gritted her teeth and hurried to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. When the urge was released, she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a burning heat within her.
Semen slid down her vaginal canal, replenishing the grime after the urine had disappeared. She stood up, picked up the showerhead, and sat on the covered toilet seat, slowly spreading her legs. A pale hand reached inside her—something she had never done before, and the darkness perfectly concealed her shyness.
Her waist felt like it was being crushed. Thick pubic hair covered her forbidden area. Gently parting the pubic hair, touching that mysterious territory, she couldn't help but gasp.
Her flower-like opening, violently violated, was terribly swollen and red. The entrance, which had been impossible to find before, was now clearly visible. Touching the swollen area sent shivers down her spine; the area was both sore and painful, a consequence of the violent exploitation and proof of the violation.
Warm water washed over the fluids in her passage, a subtle, itchy sensation. She used to feel ashamed even of simple washing her private parts, but now she had to use her fingers to spread her opening and let the heat wash over her. Her skin flushed, and she wanted to clench her legs, but she endured the discomfort. After a quick clean, she turned off the shower.
She dried herself, then, supporting herself on the door and rubbing her stomach, walked to the kitchen. The rope was still on the floor, but the knife was nowhere to be found. The refrigerator was empty, except for a lemon to mask odors. She was sweating and shivering as the cold air touched her skin.
She closed the top door of the refrigerator and opened the bottom one. The bottom shelf seemed heavy, containing something. She opened one shelf first, her pupils contracting in the darkness. Her stomach churned, and she vomited, rushing to the sink.
Having not eaten for several days, her stomach was churning, but she could only vomit up bile.
Inside the refrigerator was a frozen piece of meat, likely put there after it had gone moldy. The meat was black and had lost its smell from being frozen for so long, but the skin attached to the meat resembled human skin, and even the frozen hair looked remarkably like human hair.
Zhou Xinyan tilted her head and closed the refrigerator, her hand gripping the edge of the cabinet. Her face was ashen. Despite being normally healthy, she now looked like a paper doll who had recovered from a serious illness, terrified by a frozen piece of meat.
She patted her chest, took a few breaths to catch her breath, and continued looking for something to eat. She dared not open the refrigerator, so she opened the microwave next to it. Inside was a plastic bowl; she pulled it out and saw it was a bowl of bibimbap from a convenience store.
She quickly ate it to fill her stomach. It was raining that night, the wind whistling through the glass. Her clothes were scattered under the sofa; she hastily put them on and walked towards the front door. Perhaps fearing she might escape, the locked door had an extra padlock, almost the size of her palm, requiring some effort to lift, let alone pick.
The house was somewhat old; the security bars on the windows were covered in a thick layer of rust. It seemed to belong to the old town. She had been here once not long ago, but without seeing the outside, she wasn't sure. She wasn't familiar with the city and didn't have much affection for it; she only silently hoped that her older brother would find her here.
Back in the room, the man was still fast asleep, very quiet. His coat was draped over a chair. She crouched down, tiptoed to the side, and reached into his pocket. The outer pocket was empty; she felt a pang of disappointment. She reached into the inner pocket.
There, stiff as a board, was a card. She pulled it out and saw it was an ID card.
In the darkness, she couldn't make out the photo, so she squinted, trying to decipher the information: Song Heng, thirty years old, local resident, residing at 1120 Chamingdong.
The numbers weren't of much use to her; she had thought she'd find his phone inside, but she'd been wrong.
She sat listlessly in a corner under the bed, curling up and hugging herself. Perhaps because she'd been so tense, as soon as she relaxed, drowsiness crept in, and she soon fell asleep.
In the darkness, a pair of deep eyes stared at her, their gaze devoid of warmth, as deep and unfathomable as a precipice, threatening to devour everything in their sight. Only when the house across the window fell silent did he slowly close his eyes, his breathing still steady, as if he were asleep, yet also awake.