[InnocentVirgin]

Words... words... weaving in and out of the buzzing in her ears.

"...gonna hurt, yessiree... lucky, I say...could be shitting in a bag and then where would you be?"

Monica woke to these words that made no real sense. Her eyes were shut but she sensed movement around the room. "Please," she croaked opening her eyes against the bright light, "can't you help me?"

"Help ya? I'm fixing ya ain't I? I knocked ya out, didn't I? I could have kept ya awake and stitched ya." Bert answered in a voice that was out of place to say the least. He could be discussing a carburetor or new speakers or anything but his ministering to a kidnapped, tortured and raped girl. With perfect calm he adjusted the IV drip connected to her arm. She focused on the face with the voice.

"My Dad could give you money, you could call him and I wouldn't say anything about you being here. I would just say you helped me... not anything else."

"I don't think so, Miss.. er.. whoever ya are." He stepped back between Monica's legs and reached up to turn a knob.

Monica couldn't feel below her waist. She could only watch in puzzlement when her belly became distended and bloated. "Wha...What are you doing to me?"

"Enema. Ya aren't gonna be eating solids for a bit and ya were dehydrated, so I'm liquidatin' ya and even put some vitimans and antibiotics into ya.

"Mr. Parks ain't all that pleased ya got busted up back there, even though what I hear he did mos' of it hisself."

"Mister, please, PLEASE! I'll do anything, can't you just help me? PLE..." Her voice stopped with the whizzing clang of a tray and instruments striking the cement floor.

"GODDAM IT. SHUT UP!" he whirled around from the now empty instrument table and advanced on Monica until his face was next to hers. "I can't fucking help myself or my sister, how THE FUCK am I supposed to help you?" Gone was the good ole boy accent. Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on her face. His hands dug into his hair and scalp and he turned with a jerk to pace around the table.

"That's my SISTER he's beating and maiming. And I can't do a fucking thing about it. SO JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He strode to stand between her legs and lowered the end of the table with a sharp movement sending her lower body down with a crash. He pulled the tube from her rectum and stepped back quickly as she voided.

His sudden temper went the way of the shitty water, his shoulders slumped. "Just do what he wants. It hurts less."

And Bert finished cleaning her up, unhooked her IV and made her ready for whatever was next.

It was becoming too much for Monica. She wondered listlessly how much more she could take and found ... she couldn't seem to care.