Fear

Interlude

It started at a nightclub, with a blonde man I naively assumed wouldn't hurt me.

Handsome. Charismatic. Smooth. Normal... ish.

He said some things. Smiled in the right way, just enough to get my guard down. He intrigued me even when he creeped me out.

He tried to appear normal.

Why did I fall for it?

I was drunk.
And I didn't know I was walking into a trap.

That night still haunts me.

I should've gone to the toilets with Isabel.
I should've run when she warned me.
I should've done so much more.

Right up until the moment in the alleyway, there were dozens of missed opportunities to escape.

But I didn't.

And that's why I blame myself.
Not him.
It was my own stupid fault.

See, I've gone back and forth on this part a hundred times. Where to start. How to end it. How to round off and summarise the worst year of my life.

But the truth is, it didn't all happen at once.
It started in a nightclub.
And it led to a kiss I can't forget.

I've filled this book now.

Over 200 pages of madness.
Scribbled words. Some pages were torn out and rewritten. Bloodstained, tear-warped, unfinished.

But this part — the part I'm writing now — is the only thing that has felt final so far, even though it's only halfway through.

There are ten pages left of this journal.

Just enough to summarise this. All of it.
But it's not over.

Because everything I've written down — every memory, every scream, every drop of blood — all happened within a few months.

And I'm writing this five years later.

So what happened after?
What happened when he came back?
What happened when I did?

I'll need another book to write that.
Another beginning.
Another me.

But one thing's for sure:

It didn't end with the kiss.

That was just where the truth started leaking out.

-

Sometimes I reread the early pages of this journal and I barely recognise her. The girl who was happy, who didn't believe in bad people, who still believed someone was coming to save her.

No... She died somewhere around Act Four.
Maybe even before.

And if you're wondering how a girl gets from "I'm not like you" to kissing the man who kidnapped her... I don't have a clean answer for that.

It wasn't one decision. It was hundreds. Small ones. Quiet ones.

Letting him call me 'princess' and not flinching.
Sitting when he told me to and nodding.

Obedience through fear.
Not because I wanted to, but because I was afraid of what he'd do if I didn't.
Like I had with my father...

Tyler used my fears against me and turned me pliant because he could.

Because no one stopped him. No one questioned him.

No one questioned the institution or the system it ran on. Because monsters don't need cages when the walls protect them.