Stolen

Monday, December 8th

Today marks the four year anniversary of the day Christopher kidnapped me. I only know this because of the tally marks I carve into the wall late at night when he is sleeping.
I wonder if my family is still looking for me. I'm guessing there not but I still like to hope that they are. They probably have just assumed I'm dead by now.
I'm 16 now. I remember the day Chris took me, I was only 12 then. A stupid baby. I should have been more careful, not been so naive to think that everyone was nice.
Chris always seemed nice. I guess he really isn't that bad of a man, despite everything that's happened. He always reminds me of this. He reminds me daily of how good he is to me and how good I have it. How he saved me.
          He tells me how if anyone else other than him found me I would be dead now. I know that he's just manipulating me, but in a messed up way he's right. He's kept me alive and doesn't beat me too badly. I know it's an awful thought but it keeps me hopeful.
I found this diary by accident. I was cleaning out the living room with Chris, he told me I could keep it. I decided to write down everything that had happened to me and everything else that was sure to come.
Chris found me one day walking home from school. It was painfully hot for December and I really wasn't looking forward to the hour walk home. About twenty minutes into my walk I stopped at a park along the way and sat on a bench. Although it was hot it was still overcast and the park was empty.
        I was sitting on the bench for about ten minutes, staring off at a nearby tree that had a family of squirrels running around. All of a sudden I felt a heavy thump next to me as if someone large was sitting down, occupying the rest of the space available on the bench.
"What's a pretty girl like you sitting out all alone on such a hot day?" He said. He was tall and he looked young and nice, like a normal guy. Nothing like the kidnappers the adults are always warning you about. "I'm walking home from school." I said it quietly.
            Even though I was young I was just starting to get interested in boys and I didn't wanna make a fool of myself in front of this seemingly cool older boy.
          "Ah, I see. What school do you go to?" He said it casually and rested him arm on the back of the bench. I could feel his warmth on the back of my neck.
            It made me nervous because I though he was cute. I wanted him to think I was cool and not a lame fifth grader.
          "I go to La Rena. I'm in 8th grade." I tried to say this as loud and confident as I could so he wouldn't know I was lying.
           When I said this he smirked and let out a low chuckle. "Oh really?" He said, clearly not believing me. He stopped chuckling and got serious.
           "You don't have to lie to me, pretty girl. You can trust me." He had an intense look in his eyes.
            At the time I thought it made him look even more attractive and mysterious. But I've come to know that look very well and now instead of filling me with curiosity, it fills me with dread because I know that means that he's angry.
         I felt myself blush a deep red from being caught in my lie. It got quiet for a few minutes and I looked back out into the distance, not wanting to make eye contact.
            I could see him staring at me through the corner of his eye. Suddenly he stood up. "You want a ride? It's way to hot out here to walk. I've got some water in the car if you want some. Besides, it's not safe for a pretty girl like you to be out here walking all alone." as he said this he let out another playful smirk. It wasn't until much later that I realized how true his statement was.
"Sure." I agreed quickly and followed behind him as he walked over to his truck. It was big and dark blue.
         At the time I was excited that a boy with a car was interested in giving me a ride. I thought it meant he liked me. Looking back now getting into that car was the was the worst mistake I've ever made. That decision to ride with him changed my life and not for the better. I was so dumb for thinking I was cool for getting a ride with a hot older guy.   
          Mentally I imagined the conversation I'd have with my friend the next day. I thought they would so jealous. I wasn't even worried that I was hopping into a car with a man I'd never met before who likely could've been more than twice my age.
          It never even occurred to me that he might not be a good guy. I assumed since he didn't look creepy and didn't look too old that he was probably safe. I climbed in the passenger side and he began to drive off.
He never took me home obviously. He said he only needed to stop by his house for a second to grab something. He smiled and told me to wait in the car. The house we pulled in front of was small but it didn't look suspicious.   
          It looked similar to every other house in the neighborhood. He was only in the house for about two minutes he came down with a small bag that looked like it was filled with powdered sugar and a plastic grocery bag.
          I had no idea what it was and of course I didn't suspect anything. I was too young. To naive. He asked me what my favorite candy was.
I thought for a second then said, "sweet tarts." I hoped maybe he asked because he had some in the bag.
He smiled widely and I smiled back, excited.
         "Well if you those then your going to love this." He told me as he lifted up the bag with the white powder. Even though I had no idea what it was but whatever it may be, I wanted it. I wanted to do whatever he was doing even if it was a little suspicious.
He took a little powder out of the bag with the tip of his finger and offered it to me. "Rub it in your gums." I did what he told me and he smiled at me, started the car and drove off.
           The taste was metallic and I struggled not to gag. After a few seconds I started to feel strange.
        I felt a giggle rise up but I stopped myself. I didn't wanna embarrass myself by acting like a child even though that was exactly what I was. The more time that past the stranger I felt. I felt like time was passing slowly and it become hard for me to keep my head up. It wasn't until it was too late that I realized that this might not be candy and that he didn't have any. I felt a panic rise up within me and I felt like I needed to get out but just as suddenly as the feeling came, it left and all I felt was a wave of laughter.
He took another pinch of the white stuff and rubbed it all on my gums with shakey hands, spilling some on my pink shirt.
I tried really hard not to gag, the stuff was nasty but I wanted to impress him. Show him that I wasn't a dumb baby like my parents thought. I wanted to prove that I was a grown up.
This time I knew it wasn't candy but I didn't care. I was already high on whatever he gave me and at that point I wanted more. I would've done anything with him. I felt giddy and carefree.
I don't remember much after that, other drifting in and out  of consciousness and driving for what felt like hours. Ever so often I would wake up and try to lift my head but it felt like I was underwater.I could barley move.
I woke up again. My head was throbbing and my limbs were tingly. "How do you feel?" Chris asked.
I didn't know how I felt. I was numb and confused I couldn't move my head but from what I could see I was no longer in the car but in a room.
"Where are we?" I asked I was so dizzy and uncomfortable but I felt panicked.
"Shhh, don't worry. I took you to my house. You were to sick to go home." He said. This time his voice made me uncomfortable. I just wanted to go home and get away from this guy. Dangerous or not he was obviously trouble and I didn't feel safe.
"My mom will be worried if I'm not home soon, you should bring me back." My voice was hoarse and I was barley audible. I tried to stay calm. I needed to clear my head and relax so I could figure out how to get out of there without upsetting him.
"Be quiet. You don't have to worry about your parents." He said. He was starting to really scare me and it finally occurred to me that he might not be a good guy. That he might be really dangerous.
"I want to go home now!" I was shouting now, I couldn't pretend to be calm anymore. I was terrified. I finally mustered up the strength to move my head.
I was in a small dark room. My arms were above my head, tied to a cheap metal bed frame. The room was dimly lit and I couldn't see anything else other than him sitting on the bed next to me, with a dark look in his eyes.
"Please let me out!! I wanna go home!" I cried out.
"Shut the fuck up! Can't you see that your not going home. This is where you live now!" He screamed this with full force, his voice low.
It felt like it shook the whole room. As he screamed this he slapped me. The force knocked the air out of me and brought tears to my eyes.
            "I guess I'll have to teach you how to behave." He growled at me. Then he hit me. Again and again.
That's how I ended up here, in this small house in the middle of I have no idea where. The house was in fairly nice condition but I only got to come upstairs when Chris was there.
He was very strict about letting me out. The majority of my time I was confined to the locked basement.
The basement was considerably smaller than the rest of the house but it was still livable. There was a tiny bedroom big enough for a full sized bed and a cheap lamp.
There was also small but functional kitchen with a fridge, stove, a few counters and a sink. Chris kept the fridge locked all day, not that it mattered much. There was barley any food in there. Mostly he just used it to store extra food that he didn't have room for upstairs. He didn't like to go out anymore than he had to so anytime he made a trip to the grocery store he bought enough food to last a few months.
Other than the kitchen and bedroom there was a small dinning room table with three chairs and a brown couch that faced a large coffee table which held an old T.V.
It didn't have cable but it had a cheap DVD player and sometimes if Chris was in a good mood and I'd finished all my chores he'd bring down a movie for me to watch.
Mostly they were just little kid movies but I didn't mind. I'd do anything to pass the time. Everything goes by so slowly when your locked in a basement by yourself for hours.
Chris keeps a few books and board games down here but he keeps the games locked and I've read the books more times than I care to count. Every now and again he will bring down a new book but that was rare.
When I fully regained consciousness a few days later Chris didn't tell me much. He told me his name and that I shouldn't expect to ever go home again.
He said this was my new home. And that if I listened I wouldn't get hurt. Chris told me that if I tried to run away that he would kill me or he would kill my family. He knew where they lived. My address had been printed inside my backpack. He said he'd been following me for months before he saw me sitting on that bench and decided it was the perfect opportunity to finally take me.
When I first got here he told me stories about how he knew from the first moment he saw me that he wanted to keep me. He told me how he spent weeks preparing the house with locks and how he spent all his time preparing the basement so I could live down here.
I learned to listen the hard way. The first few months I fought him tooth and nail on everything. I was always looking for ways to escape. I looked for anything that could be used as a weapon.
Everytime he always proved to me that I couldn't outsmart him. That he was stronger and if I fought he would make my life a living hell. After the first few major beatings I stopped trying to fight him directly.
I took a new approach. I listened to everything he said, went the extra mile to please him. I thought maybe if he saw that I was good he would let me go. At night when he finally came home after being out all day I would plead with him to let me go.
I made false promises to never tell anyone. Begging just made him angry. After a while I stayed to lose hope that I'd ever get out of there.
         At first living here was hell. I spent every waking hour desperate to escape. But now living here isn't that bad as long as Chris is in a good mood and remembers to feed me. Sometimes I go days without food but my body is used to it.
I've learned a lot over the past four years. I've learned how to keep Chris fairly happy. I learned what things upset and him and what things he expects of me. I've learned what things he's capable of when he's in a bad mood but I've also learned that as long as I keep him happy he loves me.
Sometimes I think he likes to pretend that we are a normal couple, that when he comes home from work I'm just his wife who keeps him company and does everything he asks. Not a young girl that he kidnapped and held hostage for years.
I used to despise Christopher. I still do but now in a way, I feel kinda bad for him. Sometimes at night I can hear him having some of his nightmares. I can hear him crying and thrashing around. In his sleep he talks about the awful things his mother used to do to him. The was his older brothers would abuse him.
I still remember to not feel to bad for him but sometimes I can't help but think maybe it's not his fault he's like this. There's obviously something very wrong with him.
I know he's an evil man who's done evil things but he's surely not the worst. He's kept me alive. That counts for something. Not much, but still something.
         One night when he was laying on the couch with me, stroking my hair he was in one of the best moods he'd been in in a while.
          I laid on him careful not move and upset his good mood. After a while he started to drift off and I swear on my life as he started to drift off I could make out the faint whisper of him saying "I'm sorry."