Six days and four hours

It is I whom he devours

 

Drunk one night

Under the club’s lights

 

I accepted a ride home

Too intoxicated to roam

 

First came the sweet talk

So I wouldn’t baulk

 

Then came the hand holding

Vicious plan unfolding

 

A lock of the car doors

Inside the voices roar

 

A knock on the head

Felt as if I were dead

 

When I came to

Dread was all I knew

 

“Surprise,” he said

“My name is Fred”

 

I cried and pleaded

At home I was needed

 

“Too late for that

You be good, you little brat”

 

Dark, damp, and cold

A loose door is outlined in gold

 

Screams go unheard

My vision has been blurred

 

Covered in urine and blood

And shackled in this mud

 

Hope is not lost on me

Should I ever set myself free

 

Up from this slippery floor

And out of that locked door