Monster ≫ h.s

0.7

🎵way down we go by kaleo

m a i s y

It's been fourteen days since I was kidnapped, and I've dreaded each and every one. I need to keep track of time, if I lose track of time, then everything else in my mind will scatter as well. I have to stay focused. I have to, it's my only way of staying sane.

Two weeks, I've been here.

It was so frustrating because time passed by so slowly. Like the pitter patter of a leaky faucet, each minute droned on and on until I could feel myself internally screaming for the drop to fall, for the minute to finally pass.

I haven't much to do in this brick room of hell. Harry had left me a tons of books, bought me more babydoll dresses, various shades of pink, white and grey. Harry also left a small notebook and pen. Oh joy, an activity that might just take my mind off the fact that I will unwillingly spend the rest of my life like this. Never moving forward, never improving, Like a picture I was stuck, in a phase.

His offer had been laid on the table, but if I took it that would just enable him, it would let him think I was okay with this, I had to stay strong. For a moment I almost wanted to vent out my feelings and record things in that notebook, but I feared maybe he would look at it. I tried my best to isolate myself from him, but it was so hard. He stopped in two times a day, sometimes three, just to talk to me. I never talked back though. I just listened and he only confessed. I suppose he just got used to the silence that responded, he got used to hearing his own voice.

It was so hard trying to isolate myself, a few times I almost responded. I almost answered him. It was so hard because he was all I had, he was the only human contact I could engage myself into.

I was certainly going insane bottling up my emotions but I couldn't let myself trust Harry. I couldn't bring myself to form a friendship, I hated him. It was true, if I spoke his name only insults could follow after. Turning my tongue foul, like venom dripping from a snake.

I hated him, in the most passionate sense I could think of, more than illiterate thoughts, more than the mindless babbling of my underclassmen in school. I hated Harry.

I took the pen and clicked it, I pressed the tip to my fair skin. As the tip glided across my arm black ink trailed behind it. My eyes narrowed as I created an intricate Aztec pattern. I stopped to look and studied my work, it was okay. I wasn't an artist, knowledge and facts were my stronger points.

I clicked the pen, creating a irregular rhythm, I clicked and clicked it until the rhythm was burned into my brain.

"You're gonna break it babydoll." A familiar voice spoke.

I dropped the pen and snapped my eyes up to Harry. My heart was beating extremely fast, I hadn't even heard him come in. I looked at the window and saw the amount of light entering. He never comes at this time.

"Are you hungry love?" He asked.

I shook my head no. I don't interact with him, let alone ask for anything. He should know that by now. I really would like a proper shower, wiping myself down with a wet rag and minimal soap wasn't very satisfying. I didn't have to use the bathroom either, I already went earlier in the morning when he came to check up on me.

That's pretty much how my day went. He would come give me food and water. Unshackle me for a few minutes to lead me to the bathroom, take me back shackle me up and then I'd have to read until he came back later. Ask me if I wanted anything, anything, I'd shake my head and he'd leave. I was used to this schedule, I had adapted to this schedule. He thought he was being nice.