The Half That You See by Rebecca Rowland (best summer reads .TXT) 📕

Virginia paced back and forth, trying to formulate how many days ago that had been.

The wolves continued howling.

She had tried to climb out. She had. Yes, she had. Over and over. Climbing. Climbing. Climbing. One hand over the other. Rock by rock. Bare feet. Fingers bleeding from the effort. Manicured nails worn down. She tried to wipe the slick moss off the stones with the tattered remains of her dress. Her bra. Her panties. Rub, rub, rub. Scrub, scrub, scrub. Virginia tilted back her head and howled.

She giggled as the wolves increased their song.

“That meant shut up, you bastards!” she giggled, digging at a scar on her arm.

Less than a meter up the walls, the stones were just too slick, too close together, too packed, too damn tight, too slick, too moss-covered, to really do any type of sustained climbing.

As she paced, she slapped absent-mindedly at her unshaven, hairy legs.

She had been in this place long enough for her legs and private area to sprout a good patch of hair. Long enough for her smooth calves and thighs to be more than stubble and become soft and long.

She giggled thinking how Darren, her boyfriend, would comment on her hygiene now.

The wolves howled.

She slapped her hands against the stones.

“No one cares where you are!” She shouted at the wolves. “No one cares where your pups are! Or if you’re horny! Or if you’re telling others to keep out of your hunting grounds! No one cares!”

She stepped on something squishy and pounced on it.

The slug went down easy. Her gag reflex was long gone, her belly no longer rejecting any sort of nourishment.

The rats were no longer coming into her cell. Her nest. Her prison. Her home. Her hole. Her cave. Her retreat. Her dank, musty, crotch hole.

Virginia giggled as she moved her hands around the dirt floor for more slugs. Finding a snail, cracking it open, and devouring the small chewy creature.

At night, moisture collected on the walls and dripped down into the small, empty water container where she placed it at the base of a small drip, drop, drippity, droppity, splishity, splashity trickle.

Just enough to wet her throat. It gathered just enough. Her piss could barely come now. Not enough to drink anymore. Just enough. Just to wash her meal down. Just enough. Just.

Flies also were good. Mosquitos too. Attracted to her bowel movements where she chose to relieve herself until her bowel movements became rare. She had tried to eat her waste but that was not happening. No. Not happening. No. Tried it. No.

Why hadn’t the men come back?

The wolves?

Virginia giggled, wiping her nose with a grime-covered hand.

That would serve them right. Serve them up. Munch. Munch. Crunch.

“Bastards!” she shouted to the world.

“Fucking bastards!” she repeated.

The wolves momentarily paused their song, then quickly resumed.

Virginia pulled at her hair and began her circular pacing.

How long does it take leg hair to grow? How long does it take her leg hair to grow? How much time had passed? How long does it take for people to notice you’re gone? For your boyfriend to begin looking. Bosses to call you. Her parents to wonder where she was. Police to check videos. Cell tower records? Did they have her cell phone? Did they dump it? How long does a battery last? How long until you starve to death? How long to decompose? How long for slugs to eat you? How long before what you eat, eats you?

How long? How long? How long?

She had her period before the men…

She ran at the wooden door and slammed her forehead against the wood.

She screamed and clawed at the wood with her fingertips.

Screamed.

Screamed.

Screamed.

In the first few days, she had screamed her throat raw. A few days later, her voice came back. It left the day after. Then came back. Then left. She had her voice now. For now.

Virginia collapsed to the dirt floor and licked the blood from her fingers. Rubbed the wound from her head and licked the blood from it. She stood and licked the slime streaked wooden door of moisture; hers, and the dampness from the door. She pulled another splinter out of her tongue. This one was much bigger and easier to remove than the previous one from…yesterday? A week ago? Earlier tonight? A moment ago?

She pulled out one of her long black hairs and chewed it. Swallowed it after a few moments.

She sighed, listening to the wolves.

She slapped her forehead. Harder. Harder. Harder! HARDER!

She screamed.

The wolves sang to her.

She swayed to their music.

She moaned in time to their tune.

She plucked a piece of mold off the wall behind her and chewed slowly.

Darren would laugh at her. She hated salad. Salad sucks. She was a steak person.

“Bastards!” she screamed. “Shut up! Shut up!”

Darren would make them shut up. Darren would have shown those three assholes not to mess with her. She did as Darren told her. Fought back like Darren showed her. She did.

“Darren! Goddamn it, I did!” She sobbed without tears.

She had. She did. But they were three of them. Bigger than her. Two good-looking Italians and one Greek guy. Or two good-looking Greek guys and an Italian. Or three Middle Eastern men. Or two tanned men and a blond guy. Or three black men. Or two white guys and a black guy. No, a Latino man and his brothers. No, two guys from work and some other guy. No. it was…it was…it was two guys from the coffee café. It was…

She thumped the back of her head against the stones.

The wolves ceased for a moment.

She blinked and looked up at the moonlight in the shaft above.

The wolves began again.

Virginia rolled to her side and screamed.

She rolled onto her back and screamed one long scream up into the shaft until her breath gave out.

Quieter. Quieter. Quieter.

Darkness enveloped her.

Her cramping leg muscles startled her back awake.

She rubbed and rubbed, slapping the knots in both legs.

The pain made her scream again.

The moonlight was no longer so bright in