disturbed [sarah paulson]

prologue

Please do not read this if you're sensitive to abuse, neglect, rape, or have experienced any form of kidnapping/abduction, or if these topics are detrimental for you to read physically or mentally.

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"Sweetheart, you know what happens when you fight, daddy," A shiver creeps up her spine as she stares at the all too familiar object in his hands, an alarmingly long and sharp needle filled with red liquid. All she knew was that it burnt, and he always made the process more painful, humiliating, and prolonged than necessary.

*flashback*

Peering at the man with quivering lips, Saige knew she should be used to it now, but watching him fill the syringe with the red substance was enough to send her into a fit of terror.

"I want my mommy. I want her."

Bad. Very bad. Not a clever move on Saige's part. It had only been a few weeks with him at that point.

He threw her on her back faster than she could process what was happening, "You mean you want your daddy," His whisper made the hairs on her neck stand up. She submitted herself to him and was told enough that her body was now his.

She never got used to it. The lack of gentleness exhibited when he stabbed the syringe in her bottom with such force and aggression a squeal escaped her lips. Sobs racked her body as he gradually injected the red substance into her. He liked when she screamed.

*end flashback*

Saige wore a piece of torn fabric around her waistline, shackles holding her arms in place, symbolizing how trapped she was physically and physiologically. Thrashing around only plays into the sadistic man's game. The pleasure on his face was indisputable; he licked his lips at her trembling body, aware of how difficult this day was for her. It was her mother's birthday, she had disclosed that to him three years prior, and she remembered him writing it down. It was to ensure he could remind her that she was now his. She would never again celebrate another birthday with, as he called it, 'her imaginary mother.' It was another one of his games, convincing her that the first 12 years of her life had been make-believe to cope with the fact she was born to please him, and that was all she was worth.

The pain her body was in only intensified, her emotions betraying her as tears trickled down her cheek, her body clenching involuntarily as his free hand found its way under her only protection. Saige tasted blood in her mouth, aggressively biting the bottom of her lip and inside her cheeks.

She isn't real, you worthless little slut. Mom isn't going to save you because it was all in our head. She isn't real.

Pathetic.

I am pathetic.

I am lying in my pee for the fourth time this week. He's rough, and my useless body isn't strong enough. I bleed when it goes on for too long. I can't even lay still right.

Brainwashing her wasn't difficult, considering he kept her isolated, and to survive, she had to play the game. Once you play the game long enough, you forget it's a game and inevitably comply with the environment to stay sane.

When Saige was twelve, she tended to explore outside her mother's sets purely due to curiosity and a hint of defiance. Unconsciously she knows the first few years of her life couldn't have been her imagination, but she had been punished too and called a liar too many times to keep asking for her mother. When he took her, she couldn't have imagined how drastically her life was about to change, how painful the rest of her life would be, and how much it would alter who she was.

It had been three years since her abduction. She was now freshly fifteen, yet she still felt twelve. Saige lived as though time had paused to cope with her reality. Oblivious to the amber alert her family had put out, the expenses paid to find her, and the overwhelming sadness Saige's absence had on her mother. When she was first taken to his basement, there were pictures of her around the wall. It felt surreal, and she was petrified.