My body, it writhed in pain. He beat me. My body lay broken, bloody, and bruised. Bystanders, they just stood there and watched him beat me. They didn't do anything. They just stood and watched, waited for him to kill me, but he wouldn't, he couldn't. He can't kill me. He knows he can't. Killing me would be too easy, it would take the fun out of his life.
Yes, you read that right. He beats me for the fun of hearing my screams, but lately I've realized the beatings are not as bad if I don't scream. He beats me until I can't physically take anymore, then he gives me time to heal and does it again. It is a cycle that is never broken. If he hurts so bad that I need serious medical attention he takes me to the hospital and makes up a story about what happened to me, all because without beating me he finds no joy in life.
What he doesn't know though is that there is a tracking device in my necklace, that when activated can send a signal to the police telling them exactly where I am. Why haven't I activated it yet, you might ask. I haven't activated it yet because I'm waiting for the perfect moment. You know that one make or break moment that could be the turning point in any situation? I'm waiting for that moment. If he takes one step in the wrong direction he will be incarcerated and given the death sentence.
He is a murderer. He has killed people before. That is why he won't kill me. He won't kill me because he knows that once I'm gone he has no one. No one to beat,no one to have nice conversations with, and no one to give him joy in life. We do have nice, normal conversations during my healing time. He is actually a normal person underneath his sadistic ways. It's strange, him being nice to me and knowing he would beat me later.
I guess I am lucky, at least he doesn't abuse me sexually as well. He has another hostage for that. She is actually quite nice. He doesn't hurt her either. He treats her like a princess because she gives him what he wants, unlike me. All he wants is to hear me scream and I won't give him that luxury. The smile that comes to his face when I scream reminds me of the joker, sadistic, joy, and fear.
Fear of being hurt again. Just like when he was a child. He does to me what his dad did to him. You would think that when randomly picking a person to hold hostage he would have picked a guy, but no he chose me. I am a woman and I am half his size, but as I said before he doesn't know my secrets. Writing these journals are one of my many secrets. I don't see how he hasn't found them yet, but I'm not complaining because these journals are my venting all of my anger gets poured into them. Without these journals I would have killed him long ago. That is another one of my secrets; I am a trained killer.
_____________________________________________________________________________ This was an assignment for my GE 100 class and I thought it turned out pretty good so I put it on here. For the assignment we were give a list of topics and we had to pick one and write a short story or journal entry for that topic. The topic I chose was very obscure. The only thing it said was My body... hence the title of the story.
