Little Lamb

9 ❦ delicate rose

༺❦༻

It was the 4th day of my captivity, I found myself in disbelief. I had anticipated death by now, yet here I was, staring at the detailed ceiling above me.

The sheets draped over my skin, skin that had been tormented repeatedly by the very man in this house.

Sometimes, I would replay our interactions, thinking about every word, every gesture.

"Lola." I remembered my name rolling off my kidnapper's tongue countless times like sweet poetry.

I couldn't get enough of it. It felt intimate, making me feel special, as if he truly saw me and I wasn't just a faint presence in the background.

I had always been an observer, content to stay in the shadows. My kidnapper's attention, however twisted, gave me a sense of presence I had never felt before. It was as if, in this horrifying situation, I had become more real to someone than I ever had been in my ordinary life.

The man who spoke my name so tenderly was the same man who had inflicted so much suffering on me.

Memories of my previous life began to blur. The small details of my daily routine, the faces of friends and family, even the sound of my own laughter seemed distant and strange. In this confined space, the only reality that mattered was the one created by my captor.

His voice was a constant in the chaos, a strange source of comfort and fear. Each time he said my name, it reminded me of his control over me, but it also made me feel like I still had an identity.

Without it, I feared I might disappear, lost in the rooms of my own home.

I started to look forward to his visits, the moments when he would break the monotony of my imprisonment with his presence. The sound of his footsteps coming towards my room became oddly comforting. I hated myself for it, for the way my heart would race not only with fear but with a twisted kind of excitement.

I must admit. This living nightmare had me craving for him in ways I never even imagined.

Getting ready for the day had become a strange ritual, a small semblance of normalcy in an otherwise twisted reality. I showered quickly, the hot water soothing my bruised skin, and wrapped myself in a towel. I had to walk to my room to get some clothes, passing through the hallway where masked men stood guard.

They eyed me as I walked by, one of them even flashing a chilling smile. I wouldn't say it was a bad sight. They looked like every girl's twisted fantasy, handsome yet dangerous. Despite their allure, I felt terrified, dirty, and vulnerable in their presence.

Quickly reaching my room, I grabbed a few clothes from my closet. The room was a mess. There was a hole in the wall, the safe behind it exposed. Documents and papers were across the floor, evidence of a desperate search. They had hammered through the wall to get to them and they succeeded.

As I stood there, clutching my clothes, I heard a soft, familiar sound behind me. I turned to see my kidnapper leaning against the doorway, watching me with an unreadable expression.

"Good morning, Lola," he spoke, his eyes following down my body. "I hope you slept well."

I paused, my heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. It felt strange to hear it in a casual manner, as if we were just two normal people going about our day. But we were far from that.

I clutched my towel tighter around me, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. "Good morning," I softly replied, forcing a smile.
"I slept like a rose."