There were many attempts of escape after that and many punishments that I didn't want to relive but were engraved in my head in efforts to prevent future escapes, but they never did stop me. The punishment I'd received after my first attempt of leaving had left a permanent mark on me, not physically that would be the third punishment, but mentally. The man had carried out that punishment on his own.
He'd tutted and shook his head as he dragged me down towards his garden of flowers, where he'd first initiated the explanation of my parents. The comparison between the beautiful, porcelain white house he possessed. The clean, welcoming, bright and glorious home; that looked like it could potentially be the home of an angel and then the cold, horrid, dull dungeon hidden within the home was a great description of the personality of this man. He appeared to be a harmless aging man. But that wasn't the case. He acquired a personality that could change from that of an angel to a devil's henchman within the snap of your fingers. And I endured a glimpse of that as he drowned me in the fountain within his garden of sorts. A smile graced his face that I managed to catch sight of when I had desparately come up for air before he had plunged my head back down into the water, terrified me... no I was shook to my core. He'd ignored my pleas and screams of help as my body splashed violently around, before involuntarily gulping the satly fountain water. It was only when my body had stilled and slightly fell into an abyss was when I faintly heard the "crunch" of his shoes on the pebbled ground as he walked away.
That is when I realised the type of man that had taken me captive. The type that could take a life away so easily. The type that didn't show any emotion behind his bleak expression as the light faded from the persons eyes he would toture. The type that's personality could alter faster than the click of your fingers. The type of man that seemed to only find pleasure in instilling pain and fear in other people. The type of person that felt that he could take whatever he wanted whenever he wanted and there would be no consequences. The type of person that shot his wife and left her in cold blood. The type of person that I considered the devil on earth.
That was the first and last time he'd punishmed me. I suppose it was a warning, a warning I didn't heed. Igor was the one that implemented the rest of my punishments and although he felt no emotions towards me other than hate, because he felt like I made his job harder. There was still remorse when I had to go through my punishments and he acknowledged when my body had reached its limit. Remorse. Acknowledgemnt. Emotions that I doubt registered in the man's world.
While crouched in the cramped cellar of a room, with four walls that I had grown accustomed to I spent my time staring at them wondering when Igor would come for me. Whilst doing so memories of the most promising escape attempts whizzed into my head. A ghost of a smile displayed against my cracked lips as I recalled the glorious moment when I had finally gotten the satisfaction of slugging steroid's bear, which I'd learned his name was Igor Kozlov, across the head with a metal bar leaving him unconscious as I continued my escape through the large vent of the cinema, although I was caught within seconds it was the only punishment that I thought was worth it and I would do it again just to relive the triumph I'd felt as I watched the muscled body that carried out all of my punishments with a smile on his face; drop with a thud.
After an extensive amount of time the latch to the metal door was shoved open. Igor's resting frown peeked in. Standing up with wide grin I joyfully promenaded towrads him, purposefully knocking past him with my shoulder and out the door. I walked the familiar route to where I'd be receiving my punishment; taking a right, then another and a left. I pushed the heavy weighted door open into yet another glacial room, I begin to remove my top; leaving me in an off-white tank top. I mount the stool that sat between the doorless frame. I step onto the stool and raise my hands waiting for Igor to tie a rope around them.
I feel the familiar tug on my wrists as the stool as kicked from beneath me. And once again I'm left dangling, the weight of my body left on my wrists. I hear the drag of the whip against the floor before I feel the air whoosh behind me as it makes contact with my back.
"One" I count and grimace. Igor seemed to be in a bad mood today. A very bad one I concluded as the next whip forced an unwanted cry of pain out of my mouth.
"Two" I whimpered, taking in a shaky breath. The whip slashed my raw skin, instantly drawing blood. The unbearing stinging and burning sensation ran through me. Black dots began to cloud my vision, as I began to lose my composure.
"What are the odds?" I think to myslef. My body slumps, already exhausted. Blood splutters on the ground as a fury of whips are unleashed on my back.
"Thirty-five" I whispered measly. The stool is pushed back underneath my legs, my body resting its weight on my arms unable to stand up on my two feet.