Creative Writing School Assignments I Kinda Like And Want Feedback On

The Red Collar -- ENG Horror Story Project

She only asked to leave once in the three hundred and eighty-two days she was there. 

At the time, I hadn't replied. 

There was nothing to say. I left the room and she never asked me again. Maybe she took my lack of response as a no, or possibly that I would let her go someday. I'm not sure I want to know what she assumed.

I didn't intend to treat her poorly or hurt her.

Truly, I wasn't going to hurt her. However, the moment she hit me first, I had a reason for self-defense, and something about that felt too enticing to help myself.
 Cassandra had never done anything wrong. In fact, I would say she had done too many things right.

I hadn't known her for long when I started planning her kidnapping, but I did know that she would probably make an excellent pet. A golden retriever, perhaps, with her soft blonde hair.
 I remember her smiling at me.

She worked at a coffee shop. She smiles at people all the time, I'm sure.
Though something about that smile made me want to capture it.
Capture her.

I wasn't treating her inhumanly in any way.

The basement was generally warm, but not too warm. There was a bed, shelves, dressers, and supplies. Anything she wanted I would have provided. She just needs to ask. The floor was hard and concrete. The basement had no windows, but I took her outside for walks at least once a day. Granted, she was wearing a leash, but her room had everything she could need.

The bed was soft and she had plenty of clothes. I washed everything once a week. I installed a bathroom in the basement before taking her so hygiene was never a problem.

She had things she enjoyed, books, canvases and paint, puzzles, a coffee pot. Making coffee is her passion, or at least that was what she told me when I asked if she liked working at the coffee shop. She had everything except for the internet, though she never asked for that, either.

I wanted her to be as comfortable as possible.

Everything was fine for a few months.

Though the moment she attacked me..

"Are you hungry?" I asked her. "It's almost lunchtime. It would be terrible for you to miss a meal."

"I don't want anything." Cassie shakes her head, her blonde hair falling in her face. She moves back on the bed slightly when I come closer. Just slightly. Not too far.

"You need to eat something." It was more of a statement than a suggestion. I sit down beside her on the bed. My pocket knife presses against my hip as I sit down. I'm not even sure what I carry it for. She shouldn't hurt me.

She takes a shaky deep breath, "I don't care, okay? Whatever is fine.."

I move a little closer, looking into those cold gray eyes for anything other than resentment. Nothing. So cold, though I don't really feel it, like when your body gets so cold and numb in a snowstorm to the point where it doesn't feel cold anymore.

I look down to the red collar around her neck.

She panicked when I first put it on, though she never asked me to take it off.

It's made out of a red pleather with a silver clasp on the front, as well as a ring on the front for a leash or name tag. I'd like to get her a name tag, but I haven't gotten around to it yet.

"Are you sure?" I ask. Even if she doesn't have the right to leave, I want to make sure she knows she has a choice on almost everything else. Almost.

She shakes her head. "Just leave!"

It takes me a moment to process what is happening before I feel her nails digging into my shoulders, having pushed me down.

I try to push her back gently. I don't want to hurt her.

She scratches down my arm, her nails ripping through the skin on my wrists.

The moment she bites down on my shoulder, her teeth pushing through my skin and sinking into my flesh, is the moment I realize she's done enough for this to be self-defense.

I push back again, much harder this time, slamming her head into the headboard of the bed.

Tears well up in her eyes and she coughs slightly, spitting out a chunk of flesh.

A chunk of my flesh.

Without thinking, I pull out the pocket knife.

Flicking it open, I stab her leg, moving the blade down and further down, until I feel the blade scrape against her kneecap.

The wound is deeper than I intended. It takes a moment for blood to rise, fat bubbles rising up in the wound first.

The moment I pull the knife away, Cassie cradles her leg in her arm, gasping for air and crying.
I get off the bed, leaving her alone in the basement.

I return as soon as possible with medical supplies.

After that, she didn't attack me again, and I don't see a reason to attack her again, either. Though

I do always keep the pocket knife on me now, just to be safe.

I didn't know if she'd try to hurt me again.

I wasn't in her room as often anymore after that. She wanted me to leave, so if personal space is what she needs, then I can give her a bit more. Just a little bit.

Everything was fine.

She went back to being the perfect pet.

It was just a lapse in her judgment that she needed a bit of discipline to get out of. It was just an irrational move on her part. She had no reason to be angry. I've given her everything.

It definitely made her less vocal, and I missed the sound of her voice. Though, I suppose no one wants a dog that barks all of the time.

I had given Cassie everything she could have needed, so I never really expected that the silence was just her thinking.

Thinking about the outside world.

Thinking about how she was planning to run away.