The Dark Side Ep. 03

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Outside, the world was blanketed in a thick layer of snow. The cold January night was silent, save for the occasional gust of wind that sent flurries dancing through the air. The dormitory stood tall and imposing, its windows darkened, its inhabitants lost in slumber.

Meanwhile, it was a different world beneath the dorm, in the basement hallway. The air was warm, a stark contrast to the freezing temperatures outside.

Annie, an eighteen-year-old high school senior, her senses heightened, curiosity piqued, cautiously peered through a narrow door opening. But before she could process anything, a rough hand suddenly covered her mouth, stifling her gasp of surprise. The fingers were firm and unyielding, pressing her lips shut. Another hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, making escape seem impossible.

Filled with terror, her brown eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. There was none. As she was dragged backward, a wave of pure fear washed over her. In desperation, her hands flailed wildly, seeking something to grasp. Her fingers clawed at the hand over her mouth, trying to free herself. As they neared the staircase, her hand found the doorknob of an open door leading to the stairs. She tried to clutch it tightly, using it as a lifeline. Unfortunately, her fingers slid off it as she was dragged further.

Reaching the railing in the staircase, the captor stopped dragging her and turned both of them around, positioning them with their backs to the hallway. With an audible ‘click,’ the door, with an ovalish glass panel in the middle, closed behind them.

“Who are you working for?” the captor whispered a question into Annie’s ear, easing his grip on her mouth.

“N… No one,” she managed to muffle out, recognizing her captor’s voice.

The captor’s fingers, which had been digging into the girl’s waist, momentarily relaxed their vice-like grip. But before she could even think of escaping, he swiftly and brutally slammed his hand into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Gasping for breath, she felt his fingers tighten again, ensuring she remained firmly within his grasp. “Don’t shit me,” he angrily whispered in her ear. “You’re one of them. What did you do with Sasha?”

“Sasha?” Annie was surprised.

“Yes. Alexander,” the captor angrily whispered through his teeth. “Are you a deaf bitch or what? Where is he?”

“Kostja, I don’t…” Annie managed to say before her captor once again slammed his hand into her stomach.

“Lying bitch,” the guy said angrily. “You live in 303. That’s his room.”

Annie’s vision blurred from unbearable pain.

“I don’t know where he is,” she gasped, tears streaming down her face. “I swear, I don’t know anything about him.”

Kostja’s grip on her was slightly relaxed, and for a moment, Annie thought he would strike her again. But instead, his hand slid lower, reaching her panties.

“Let’s sharpen your memory,” Kostja said, sliding his hand under them.

“No-o!” Annie tried to fight his hand away by hitting it and digging her fingernails into his flesh.

“Vot suchka,” Kostja swore in Russian, hitting the girl for the third time in the stomach. “You lezzies are so aggressive.”

Annie’s head fell backward, her eyes shutting closed, onto her captor’s bony shoulder as she grabbed her belly with both hands. The pain that she felt was beyond unbearable. As she desperately gasped for air, she felt something soft and freeing overtake her. For a moment, she had a feeling of levitating, and pain seemed to be somewhere far, far away.

“Are you Thunder?” Annie asked when she regained her speech abilities.

“Oh, I am indeed a thunder,” Kostja smirked as his fingers tried to find Annie’s clit in her unshaven bush.

Annie took a deep inhale and exhaled. She felt adrenaline rush through her veins.

“My thunderbolt will cure you and make you straight,” the captor continued as he finally found her clit.

Annie didn’t feel any anger nor fear. Sudden calmness overtook her as she felt Kostja’s hand moving over her chin to cover her mouth.

The girl made another deep inhale and exhale. One of her hands, from her belly, moved up, touching Kostja’s wrist.

“I’ll make you so straight that even your bitchy mother won’t recognize you,” Kostja said, touching the girl’s clitoris with his fingertips.

Annie felt Kostja’s fingers slide over her bottom lip. She pressed on his wrist to move his hand away from her mouth. The girl’s resistance made her captor apply more strength to push his hand up.

The harder Kostja tried to push his hand up, the more pressure Annie applied to his wrist, pulling his hand down. Suddenly, she released it, and his fingers flew straight into her open mouth instead of covering it. The girl’s brown eyes sprang open, and with force she didn’t know she had, her teeth sank into the captor’s hand. Almost simultaneously, Annie’s fingernails drilled into Kostja’s other hand, ripping it away from her clitoris and out of her panties.

Before the captor could understand what was happening, gorukle escort Annie spat his hand out of her mouth, pushed his hands away from her, and spun around, her brown hair flying.

“Blyad’. Yobnutaya suka,” Kostja swore in Russian as he noticed blood appearing from the lacerations, pain kicking in.

With a swift movement, Annie’s fingers curled tightly around the cold, metal railing of the staircase behind her, anchoring herself. In a split second, she coiled her muscles and launched herself upwards, her knees drawing up to chest level in a powerful tuck. The world seemed to slow for a heartbeat as she hung in the air. Then, with all the force she could muster, she thrust her legs outwards, her heels aimed like twin missiles. They found their mark, slamming into Kostja’s midsection with a thud that echoed in the narrow space.

The force of Annie’s kick sent Kostja hurtling backward, his arms flailing. In a blur of motion, he crashed through the door behind him, the ovalish glass panel shattering into a thousand glittering shards.

Annie jumped off the railing and ran up the stairs without looking back.

THE DARK SIDE
Episode 3

On Saturday morning I was awoken by someone banging at my door. Barely asleep, I crawled out of my bed.

“Who’s there?” I managed to crack out in a very tired and sleepy voice, holding my belly with both hands.

“Annie, it’s me – Margo,” a familiar voice said from the other side of the door.

“Hey,” I said, slowly opening the door of my room and cautiously looking around.

“He-e-ey!” Margo cheerfully squeaked. “What happened to you? You look like death warmed over.”

“Yeah, you could say so,” I gestured for her to come inside. “Come in.”

“Oh, no. Not now,” her expression transformed from cheerful to serious. “It’s your check-up time.”

“Again?” Her words put me on alert. “I had one a week ago. It’s just barely past 7 AM,” I said, grabbing my smartphone from the desk and checking the time. “Can it wait an hour or two?”

“I’m afraid not,” Margo shook her head. “We must go now.”

“B… But… Ma… Margo… Please…” panic kicked in, my heart started beating like crazy. “I… I can’t. I haven’t shaved…”

“Annie, I don’t know why you are on the list for an urgent check-up,” Margo touched my arm slightly above the elbow, her green eyes pleading with me. “But I know that you’ll get in big trouble if you don’t show up, and I don’t want that.”

Maybe her face was serious, but her voice sounded so sincere, not to mention that pleading look in her eyes. Also, the night’s events had left me so weak, and I wasn’t ready to fight her or get into any trouble. Therefore, I took my student ID and dressed only in a t-shirt and panties, followed her as fast as I could with the pain in my belly, and ran down to the first floor.

A minute or two later, we were on the first floor, walking down the hallway. Expecting to have my examination in the same room I had when I arrived, I was surprised when Margo led me to a different one. This was a significantly smaller but very bright room with a reclining chair in the middle.

The walls of the room were painted in a sterile white, reflecting the bright LED lights from the ceiling. The room smelled of antiseptic, a scent that was both comforting and unnerving at the same time. On one side of the room was a counter with an array of medical instruments, neatly arranged on a tray. There were syringes, vials, cotton swabs, and tourniquets, all gleaming under the bright lights. The chair itself was upholstered in a soft, pale blue material. It looked comfortable, but the sight of the armrests, designed specifically for drawing blood, sent a shiver down my spine. There were straps attached to the armrests, presumably to keep the patient’s arm steady during the procedure.

On the opposite wall was a small sink with an automatic soap dispenser and a paper towel holder. Next to the sink was a waste bin, labeled “Biohazard.”

“Finally,” sighed a man in a white coat with a bald head and trimmed beard, presumably in his late 50s, who sat at the table next to the reclining chair.

I took a few steps inside the room, stretching my hand with my student ID toward him. With a swift movement, he snatched it from me and turned in his seat, dropping it on a tap card reader next to a laptop that stood on his table. His muscular hands left the impression that he was a very strong man. But one thing that truly made goosebumps run over me was his eyes. The eyes I’d already seen. The eyes with large pupils and irises of an indeterminate color.

While Ms. Pine’s and Ieva’s eyes captivate me and it’s very hard, if not impossible, to look away when I look into them, this man’s eyes filled me with fear. I looked into his eyes only for a very brief moment and already felt fear and danger. My heart pounding, I looked at Margo, who smiled at me.

“Sit,” said the man, looking into the screen in front of him.

Margo gestured for me to sit in the chair. bursa görükle escort “It’ll be over before you know it,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. But her voice betrayed a hint of nervousness, which did little to calm my own anxiety.

The room seemed to grow colder, the bright lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. The hum of the machinery grew louder, almost as if it was alive, waiting to feed. The man’s fingers danced over the keyboard, the clicking sound echoing in the silence. I slowly approached the chair, my legs feeling like lead. The soft blue upholstery, which had seemed inviting at first, now looked like a trap. The straps on the armrests seemed to twitch, eager to bind me.

Margo, sensing my hesitation, gently pushed me towards the chair. “It’s okay, Annie. Just a routine check-up,” she whispered.

As soon as I sat down in the chair, the man stood up, his tall silhouette casting a long, dark shadow across the room. The overhead lights flickered momentarily, adding to the room’s unsettling ambiance. With deliberate steps, he approached me, his white coat rustling with each movement. He reached out, and with a strength that belied his age, strapped both my arms to the chair’s armrests. The leather straps felt cold and unyielding against my skin, and a sense of claustrophobia began to set in. He then moved to the sink, the water running loudly in the otherwise silent room. The sound of water splashing and the sight of him methodically scrubbing his hands felt oddly ritualistic. The soap’s scent was clinical, overpowering the room’s antiseptic smell. He dried his hands with a crispness that made the paper towel sound like it was being torn apart.

From the counter, he picked up a sealed package containing medical gloves. The room was so quiet that the sound of the package being ripped open was jarring. He slowly donned the gloves, each snap echoing like a gunshot in the confined space. The latex gloves stretched taut over his large, muscular hands, making them appear even more menacing.

With practiced ease, he wrapped the tourniquet around my left upper arm, tightening it just enough to make my veins bulge but not enough to cause pain. The pressure was uncomfortable, and I could feel the blood pulsing beneath my skin, trapped by the tourniquet’s grip. He then palpated the inside of my elbow, his cold fingers pressing down, searching for the best vein. Finding one, he took an antiseptic swab and cleaned the area, the cold liquid sending chills up my spine.

From the tray, he picked up a syringe, its needle gleaming wickedly under the lights. The sight of it made my heart race even faster. He approached, the needle poised above my left arm. I looked away at Margo. She stood on the other side of the chair, and took my right hand between hers. Her soft touch and her green eyes slightly calmed me down and made me feel safer.

With a swift, expert motion, the man pierced my skin. The sharp sting was momentarily painful, but what was more terrifying was the sensation of my blood being drawn. Instead of fear or discomfort, there was a strange sort of pleasure. The feeling of the blood leaving my body was oddly satisfying and arousing, like releasing a pressure I hadn’t known was there. I felt my nipples hardening and brushing against my t-shirt.

Looking at Margo, I noticed how her eyes were transfixed on the syringe that slowly filled up with the dark red liquid. I saw something in her eyes, but couldn’t understand what exactly it was. I had never seen anything like that. It was something pure and primal at the same time. The only thing I knew was that I liked the sensation of blood leaving me and the look in her green eyes.

Once the man had taken enough, he carefully removed the needle, a small bead of blood forming at the puncture site. He quickly pressed a cotton pad over the wound, stemming any further bleeding. With a piece of medical tape, he secured the cotton pad in place, ensuring it stayed put. He then discarded the used needle into the “Biohazard” bin with a finality that made me shudder. The vial containing my blood was labeled and set aside.

With the same deliberate movements, he unstrapped my arms, releasing me from the chair’s confines. The room’s coldness seemed to lift slightly, but the sense of dread remained.

“Go,” the man said, returning to the table with the laptop.

A few moments later, we were out of the room and back in the hallway.

“How are you? Is everything alright?” Margo asked firmly, gripping my student ID in her hand.

“I think so,” my voice cracked as I realized that Margo was still holding my right hand.

“See–I knew there was nothing to worry about,” Margo said in her cheerful voice, the sparkling returning to her green eyes. “Come, let’s have something tasty for breakfast,” she pulled me towards the kitchen.

In truth, eating was the last thing on my mind at that moment, but I didn’t have the courage or strength to tell her that. Especially after I had turned down her offer last night and everything she had done for me so far.

“Good morning bluebirds,” Ieva greeted us as we entered the kitchen. She was already at our usual table, eating her meal.

“Only the early bird catches the worm, right? Good morning to you too, nightingale,” Margo replied with a playful smirk. “I’ll make something for us,” she turned to me, releasing my hand. “Any wishes?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head, as my adrenaline wore off and the pain in my belly and left arm slowly returned. “I’ll be fine with anything that’s tasty,” I gave a weak smile.

“Okay,” Margo brushed her fingers over my hair, on my back, between my shoulder blades. “I’ll be right back,” she said and disappeared into the kitchen’s storage area.

“Is everything alright? You don’t look too well,” said Ieva, as I sat down at the table, next to her.

“One of the worst nights in my life,” I sighed heavily. “But at least I found out who Thunder is.”

“Really?” Ieva turned to me, forgetting about her meal. “How did you find out? What happened?”

I told her about my night’s encounter with Kostja in the basement, leaving out everything before the moment he grabbed me from behind. “I think, I cried myself to sleep,” I rounded up my story of the night. “And this morning for some reason my blood sample was needed. So, my belly hurts and now my arm hurts as well.”

“May I see your belly?” Ieva asked, fully focused on me, after I finished retelling the night’s events.

I took a deep breath and leaning backwards in my seat, I slowly lifted my t-shirt, revealing my stomach. Ieva gently touched the area where Kostja had hit me, her fingers cool against my skin. I winced slightly at the touch, the area still tender. Just then, Margo returned with a tray filled with delicious-looking breakfast items. The aroma of freshly baked bread, scrambled eggs, and sizzling bacon filled the air.

“Hey, see what I have,” Margo cheerfully said as she approached the table. “What’s going on?” her expression changed as Ieva looked up at her.

“Last night Schinkov tried to rape her in the shower,” Ieva summarized her interpretation of my night’s events.

“What?” Margo quietly asked before the tray slid out of her hands, falling on the table with a loud bang.

“You should go to Med-House and see a gynecologist,” Ieva looked at me. “But, if you wish, I can arrange one to come over to see you here.”

Ieva’s mention of Med-House reminded me of the doctor who did my arrival check-up. During the examination, the doctor hinted that I may see her in Med-House if I have any questions and wrote me a prescription which I must show upon my visit. Since she already has seen me naked and knows that I’m not shaved down there, I could avoid getting in unnecessary trouble. Still, I had to re-check what she wrote in that prescription.

“No need, I can walk there,” I said, putting on an assuring smile.

“Okay, but go there right after breakfast,” Ieva glanced down at my belly once again. “Pain in the belly and big blue bruises on it doesn’t mean anything good. Let’s hope that there’s no internal bleeding. It would have been better if you went straight to Margo or looked for me after you got away from Kostja.”

“Ieva,” Margo’s voice trembled, her face reddening, and the same primal look appearing in her green eyes I saw a couple of dozen minutes ago in the blood drawing room. “It’s my fault. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten to tell Annie where to go and what to do in case of emergency,” she said, still standing next to the table, her fingernails drilling into its surface.

“Margo, please sit down,” Ieva looked at our friend. Turning back to me, Ieva placed her hand over mine which still held the t-shirt above my belly. “You must always know that you can come to us at any time of the day. We live on the top floor, Margo is in room 474, it’s in the back hallway, and I’m in room 499, right next to the staircase.”

I nodded in understanding, unable to get out a word. Ieva’s touch was soft and calming, like Margo’s, but felt more motherly.

“Please, sit down,” Ieva stood up and walked around the table, placing her hand on Margo’s shoulder. “I can see what you’re thinking about. That won’t help Annie. Sit, eat, and calm down. I’ll take care of the rest.”

As soon as Margo sat down next to me, Ieva left the kitchen with a promise to be back in a bit. I could feel that something was not right. Margo was blankly staring in front of her and started shaking. I wasn’t sure what to do.

“Margo?” I whispered, reaching out to touch her hand. It was cold and trembling. “Are you alright?”

“He raped you,” she said, ignoring my question, in a low, trance-like, monotonous voice that sent chills over my body.

“Oh, no, no, Margo,” I took her hand between mine, hoping that this could calm her down. “He didn’t. I wouldn’t let him. He just…” I wasn’t sure how to end the sentence. “Tried,” I blurted out after a pause.

Margo closed her eyes. Throwing her head back, she parted her lips and took a few long, deep breaths. With every breath she took, her hand became warmer and trembled less. Continuing to inhale and exhale in a slow, long, and deep pattern, with each time taking longer pauses between inhaling and exhaling, her body calmed down until it stopped shaking.