Jaylen tried to stretch her legs in any other direction besides the cramped position they had been locked in forever. Her left leg lifted slightly against the force of an unseen restraint; gently, she raised her foot higher and pushed harder against the solid darkness in anticipation of the cramps that were sure to follow at any time. Minutes ticked agonizingly by while the girl fumbled groggily around in the confined space; the smell of wet earth and nature strong in her nostrils, the taste of her own sweat and blood lingering stubbornly on her dry tongue. The bones and tissue of her body radiated painfully from every region, sending shockingly immobilizing waves of pain that were difficult to identify in source. Still, Jaylen struggled through several slow-motion barrel- rolls before being blacking out from such unprecedented levels of pain
“Hello?” her voice broke through the silence like a train through a café’s front window, seeming to resonate throughout the tiny area surrounding her hauntingly loud and clear. Her body was trembling uncontrollably beneath her own dead weight. The darkness remained, but the drop in temperature convinced the panicking girl that she was outside somewhere – exposed to the weather, at least.
A cabin or an outbuilding of some kind – somewhere out far away from the city and somewhere it gets exceptionally cold after the sun sets – the beach? A beach house pantry? No…too cold for a house…
The girl just lay there in silence for an indeterminate time; she listened intently for the sound of anything – movement, voices, breathing… death. Over the course of the following day and a half, she had recalled quite completely the previous week’s terroristic events to the crispness as fine as sand grain: the rapes, the beatings, the torture and pain – the hellish defilement for her and the erotic enjoyment for her captor. She remembered the random things about his mother that the sick guy had said while he was doing unspeakable things to her body, maiming her, ridiculing the final days and events of such an already tragic life story. She thought feebly of her Mom, and smiled to herself through the excruciating strikes of white-hot pain behind her mouth when she moved her jaw; how she wished she had stayed home for hot chocolate, instead. Eventually, Jaylen forgot about the shivering of her own body, and began to feel warmer somehow. Her mind fought to stay awake against the new and welcomed heat she was feeling, but couldn’t for long. She slept fitfully in the tiny sardine can space, dreaming of her childhood in a strange hue. She was cognitively numb to the knowledge of his shared intentions to kill her when he had finished with her; it was too much information for her brain to compute with any sense of reality. She was only sixteen, after all.
Days went by without anything to speak of happening; the girl drifting in and out of hunger-ridden consciousness, half-dead from hypothermia and internal bleeding. Her final moments are said to have been fairly painless, as her body had long before gone into shock in a veined attempt at keeping an acceptable heart rate against the tremendous pain associated with the types of injuries she had suffered. Her autopsy revealed both collar bones in compound fractures, as with each femur bone; her wrist had been “snapped” in the wrong direction, affecting severely painful severed tendons in each arm. Jaylen had been sexually violated beyond description or comparison to any other sex crime in recent local history of the big metropolis where she was born, raised and put to rest. There were bite marks covering over half of her surface skin, she had only her wisdom teeth left in her mouth, one eyeball had been lifted from its socket from the impact of a blunt force trauma to the right side of her head, multiple stab and slice wounds, chunks of hair missing from back and top her head – she had been through a living Hell, that was very obvious.