Not His Doll

Chapter 3

| Luck Run Out |

The human brain responds four different ways when confronted with fear.
You can choose to fight the threat by engaging for a better advantage. By facing them can you not only defend yourself, but create opportunity.

Next of course is flight. You obey the instincts which beg you to run for your life, fleeing from the threat. She could flee from this beast like she did the other attackers, but circumstances have changed. If she runs it could anger this man. Its obvious his strength and speed match above that of the other men, she couldn't stand a chance fleeing from a man like that. He would have her pinned before her feet could leave the ground.

She glanced over the deceased body once more before shuddering at the thought of her suffering the same fate. To die disfigured, alone, and ridden with sin is a fate worse than many; she almost felt bad for him, even if he did deserve it. Glancing at the deceased body once more she shuddered at the thought of her standing in his place. To die disfigured, alone, and ridden with sin is a fate worse than many; she almost felt bad for him. If she were to run it, couldn't be now, not yet.

Following flight is freeze. Not to be confused with fawn, during the freeze response, one is quickly overwhelmed with emotions associated with trauma. Decision making will be difficult and you'll find your judgement will be clouded. You will feel alone, isolated, and scared, coping into further dissociation. You will change with the shock being too much, and you'll grow numb to your situation.

Finally, there is fawn. You can choose to abandon all senses of hope and instead comply with the demands of your captor. By giving herself up Y/n may survive, and the chances of that itself is slim.
She didn't feel confident in fleeing or fighting as she felt it was a one way ticket to getting your head smashed in. This man proved himself to be more than capable or murder and if he didn't kill her right away, she'd suffer a fate worse than death.

Seeing as she had no other choice, she decided to sit still and wait. If she played her cards right she could take advantage of the situation, however he could kill her at any moment. She refused to fight back, yet the idea of submitting to him felt just as bad.

"Who are you?" She asked, nearly hesitating. She tried appearing strong and confident but her shaky voice gave way of her fear.

The man said nothing, cocking his head to the side curiously. Acting immediately on impulse he closed their remaining distance. Before she could react, she was already within his grasp. He was quicker than she thought and his grip was painfully strong. He lifted her eyelevel to him and whispered,

"Greta?"

His voice was much softer than expected. It was similar to that of a child's, a boy to be specific. His stare was the most intimidating and if looks could kill, she'd be long dead.

He moved closer to the window, revealing the two in the icy-blue moonlight. With the two in better lighting he studied her face, inching closer and closer in order to examine all her unique features. In the heat of the moment, he swiped his grimey thumb across the blood on her lips, smearing it in a compelled manner.

"You're not my Greta."
This time when he spoke, his voice was one of a man's. It was low, hoarse, but not as deep as she'd expect. She could tell he hadn't often expressed it.

Before she had even a moment to think she felt warm hands wrap tightly around her neck.

"Who are you?" He demanded, his voice thick with hatred.

The pressure grew uncomfortable fast as it tore the oxygen from her lungs. He pressed further into the sides of her neck, barely giving her the option to speak. He would squeeze harshly, then gentle, then harsh again. She couldn't speak even if she wanted to, and the action was quite torturous.
Y/n fought for air, pulling at his hands and fingers begging for release. Fortunately the stranger listened and loosened his hold before she could lose consciousness.

She felt nauseous. With the guarantee she was suffering from a concussion, and her bleeding thigh, she wasn't sure how long she could keep herself awake. The burning sensation between her thighs and aching body was growing overwhelming.

"P-please." She pleaded as innocent sounding as she could.

"You're hurting me."

Tears sat upon her waterline threatening to spill with a single blink. She refused to lose consciousness. The risks were far too high to leave her unresponsive around him.
Like never before she fought against her body's pleas; forcing her eyes open each time she blinked.
It was a constant battle staying awake. That before she could realize, she layed limp in his arms succumbing to unconsciousness.

~