The Puppeteer

Chapter 16

I stood in the dimly lit basement, my eyes fixed on the small piece of wall that had become my only solace. I had used it to mark my days, to keep track of the time that seemed to be slipping away from me. It had been two weeks, 14 days, since I had been taken. I marked down the line, my nail scraping against the concrete as I bit my bottom lip.

I had no voice left, no tears to cry. The routine had become monotonous, a never-ending cycle of fear and I slammed onto the hard, granite floor of what looked like a basement, the impact jolting through my body like a shockwave. I tried to keep my cries in, but they refused to be contained, exploding out of me like a strangled noise from behind the gag that was stuffed into my mouth. My wrists were tied behind my back so tightly that I swore my fingers were going to drop off from lack of blood. I tried desperately to move them, to ease the pressure, but it made no difference. It was too tight a knot for me to have any effect.

As I lay there, helpless and terrified, I heard the sound of heavy boots approaching. I watched in horror as he came into view, his mask now covering only his mouth and nose. His eyes, a piercing hazel, gleamed in the dim light of the bulb swinging back and forth above us. The chair scraped across the floor as I tried to scoot back, my heart racing with fear. He was going to kill me for sure.

But instead of attacking me, he spoke. His voice was low and menacing, sending shivers down my spine. "You know, little puppet, I know all about the bad things your father is into. And I've bought his rights to you."

I looked at him with disbelief, my mind reeling with the implications. What was he talking about? My father was a respected businessman, a pillar of the community. What could he possibly be involved in that would lead to this?

But before I could even process the question, he continued. "Your father is involved in a little side business, one that involves selling young women like you to the highest bidder. And I've bought you, lock, stock, and barrel."

I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold back the scream that was building inside me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My father, involved in a sex ring? It was impossible.

But the man just watched me, his eyes scanning my slim form with a calculating gaze. He reached out with his massive hand and stripped me of my towel, leaving me naked and vulnerable. I felt a wave of shame wash over me, followed by a surge of fear.

"If you obey me, I'll reward you," he said, his voice dripping with menace. "But if you fight, I'll punish you."

He flashed a knife in front of me, the blade glinting in the dim light. I felt a cold sweat break out all over my body as he reached down and tossed me some clothes.

"Get dressed," he said. "We'll be having a little chat soon."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the basement. I was left to process the horror of my situation, and the revelation that my father was involved in something so sinister. I didn't know what to believe, or who to trust. All I knew was that I had to escape, no matter what it took.



I huddled in the corner of the dingy basement, my ears straining to pick up any sound that might indicate the presence of someone, anyone, who could help me. The muffled voices from outside were a constant reminder that I was not alone, that there were people just beyond the walls of my prison who could potentially hear my cries for help.

But as the days passed - or what I assumed were days, since I had no way of keeping track of time - I began to lose hope. The only sound I ever heard was the creaking of the stairs, the scraping of the chair across the floor, and the rustling of the bag of food that he brought me.