The image below is from Tim Grundtner at Pexels.com and has been selected by Fandango for his flash fiction challenge this week.
*** Warning: this is a piece of fiction with an abusive theme ***
The room was unfamiliar.
She moved her feet as if walking but instead began to rise.
She stretched out her hands to nothingness, her hair falling behind her, the smell of mustiness and decay beginning to assault her nostrils.
Her skirt draped around her thighs, a draught from an open window making it ride up.
She heard laughter.
Turning her head, she saw two shapes in the shadows. They had no definite form, but she could tell they were watching her, and it was they who were generating an invisible force that kept her floating above the floor.
Her struggles were futile and the laughter increased to a feverish pitch, almost hysterical glee. She screamed, but the room absorbed her cries. No-one came to her aid.
The shadows had eyes, tentacles that reached to explore her exposed body.
She screamed again, kicking, and punching, fighting with all her might against a stronger enemy. She would not give in! She would not!
She shouted, lashed out, clawed with her nails at invisible flesh.
They had not expected that and released her. She fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
When she awoke, she was huddled on the floor and alone.
The familiarity of her surroundings made her weep. This was her sanctuary and she was safe from a nightmare some thirty years ago that no-one believed.