A normal girl would feel fear. A normal girl would panic to awaken in a cold prison. I'm not a normal girl. So many have told me I'm not normal, and they have never let me forget it.
Fear, I once knew fear. I felt fear from my Father's gaze. I felt fear late in the night when he would come to greet me, I felt fear when he doused the old house in gasoline and lit the match. My fear died with him there-with that house. I was found in the attic just before the flames reached the window. I didn't feel fear as I was carried two stories down a ladder. I didn't feel fear as I was taken in by the state. I didn't feel fear. It was like I was reborn in that ash. I didn't feel fear, no. My fear, the fear I felt for so long, was replaced with something else. I felt alive. For now, I slept. Not only did I rest but I planned. When I awoke I removed my flimsy toothbrush from the bag. A skinny affair that you would get for free at a roach motel. I tested its width in the grooves in the ceiling. Almost a perfect fit. I begin to bite down on the plastic. When the task was done I found purchase on the edges of the grooves and smoothed out my tool running it back and forth quickly like a saw. I ran it inside the grooves until I found a lock.
Jordyn's POV I saw her through the hidden camera so perfectly hidden behind a clear tile. I saw her shiver and bundle herself. I saw her looking for her escape. She wouldn't find it. She looked so small in the hole as she stood on her tip toes and found the grooves to the door with no handle, no way out. As I waited for her panic to set in all I noticed was how she was oddly calm. She appeared to be in and out of sleep. She must be exhausted. She bundled her sack into a makeshift pillow and drifted off. I must have dozed off myself because when I awoke I saw her digging through her old sack. She pulled out what appeared to be a long stick. A toothbrush? She began testing the exit. "Hm, maybe she will escape quicker than I expected," I thought to myself out loud. She is smart. Images flooded my mind of the fun that would ensue upon her escape. I pictured the inevitable chase when she would run in fear.
8 years ago... "She has no sense of self preservation. Distortion of her instincts brought on by past trauma. In a sense it may be a form of self preservation in of itself. Her lack of in turn protects her from fear and she searches for new ways to feel." My school counselor tells my foster mother as I sit on a bench waiting nearby. "What can we do? She is wild. She climbed a four story roof yesterday and was found standing out on the very edge. I'm afraid-I'm afraid she will hurt herself. Who will be held liable? I," she pauses and looks at me. "I have other fosters to care for." Whispers my guardian. "Therapy will help. I'm going to give you the number of a child psychologist. He is a good friend of mine and I think if we work in tandem we will see the best results. I do not want to put your expectations too high. Her instincts may not change, but we can try to instill boundaries. Twice a week visits for each of us. As for
I see her emerge from my hole. She looks around the great hall. She doesn't look afraid, she looks...curious? It was difficult to tell through the lense of my wide angle camera. Hell. She looks fifteen. So young and caught so easily I almost felt bad. Anthony had told me she had been wandering around the street. They found her coming to a bridge. A runaway? I found myself growing more curious about her. It's difficult to make out her features, but I can tell she's attractive. Her limbs, though gangly, seem graceful. The beautiful arc of her neck so poised. I find myself imagining my hands around it. I can't stop the images that flood my mind. Her shackled to the cross hidden behind a banister in the great hall. Her blonde hear wrapped tightly around my fist. Oh the games we could play! I know I'm a monster. I know it's wrong. I just don't care. I compose myself and make my way down the corridor and re
20 years ago... "Jordyn, mommy needs a favor." I hear mommy say as she looks me in my eyes while I watch t.v. on the sticky floor. She always says to look at her eyes when I talk. "What is a favor?" I ask when mommy gives me a look. "Hm, a favor is when you do something nice for mommy because you love her." Mommy smiles. I get excited. I run to my room to get the picture I colored when I was watching Bug's Bunny. Mommy takes it and groans. "That's nice dear, but what I really need is for you to come with mommy to a friend's house. It will only be for a little while. Please? It will be a fun game." Mommy pouts and I touch her mouth. I don't like mommy's friends. They throw things and hit. They give her things and she acts funny. "Is she nice?" I ask. "He is very nice. Now go get your coat. We are leaving now." Mommy is already acting funny. She is scratching her neck and blinking her eyes a lot.
I brace myself before opening the door to the great hall. I breathe in an assuring breath and pull. I'm in control. I see her by the window. What is this? She's not trying to escape, merely taking in her surroundings. She turns to look at me and I am taken back. She is more beautiful than I first believed. She looks older than my first guess. She has long blonde hair to her waist, piercing blue eyes, a small frame, but bangin' rack, and an expression that bewilders me. She looks almost annoyed, not afraid. I wasn't expecting this response, nor have I ever received it. "Ok perv, what is it you want from me?" Hearing her voice brings my attention off her breasts. I think about what I want from her. It's what I want from them all, the game and I answer honestly, "I want you to fall in love with me."
Was he serious? Did he just say he wants me to fall in love with him? "Ha! Fat chance!" I chuckle as I look at him. "If you wanted me to love you, why lock me in that cold prison?" I ask confused by this turn of events. He seems shocked and unprepared. He's more afraid than I should be. He is my kidnapper? I take in his appearance for the first time. He looks rich. He's got swaggering hips and a jawline to die for. His hair is dark like mahogany and his eyes are a shining emerald. He answers as my eyes follow the buttons down his shirt. "I did it to establish dominance and let you know you can't run. Don't be fooled. I run things here and I control what will happen. You will fall in love with me." I ponder this for a moment and can't seem to understand him. He lives in a palace. The gardens outside the window are some of the most beautiful I've ever seen, not that I'd seen much of the Jones's lifestyle. Why take a girl off the street and bring her he
CONTENT WARNING-uncomfortable content ahead.20 years ago.... I see mommy's friends house. It is white and I see paper on the windows with words on it. The yellow light by the door goes on and off, on and off, on and off. Mommy waits for a long time. She sniffs, then mommy knocks. "Hey Jim." Mommy says hi to her friend and looks at the floor. "You finally caved. I knew you would. They always do. Whores like you need your fix." He says. Mommy said he was nice. He is not nice. He is mean. I stick out my tongue. "Hey there fella. Mommy brought you over to play. Would you like to play?" I shake my head and show my tongue again. I look at mommy and she isn't looking at my eyes. Mommy looks at the wall. Mommy speaks now. "Take him in there. I can't watch." He looks at me. "I like em' stubborn. Kid, your mom tells me you like candy. I have lots of candy. It's under my bed though and you're the only one small enough to get it. Wanna come ge
Both Jordyn and Alma stand there staring at each other. Jordyn speaks first, "What is your name?" Alma pauses for a moment and returns his question without answering. Jordyn sighs. He realizes he will have to open up first. "My name is Jordyn. I own a big real estate firm doing business across the country." "Alma, my name is Alma." She responds as she runs her finger across a statue. "I've never been in such a big house. Do you take girls often without their consent?" She wants to get to the point quickly and Jordyn is beginning to feel uncomfortable. He is used to facing fear when he first greets his captives. He wasn't ready to be so open with her. "Follow me," he says. Alma follows him out of the great hall and up a wrap around staircase. He opens a door to a room extravagantly decorated. "This should do for now. The shower is through the door. There should be some old T-shirts in the dresser that