My Kidnapper Compares Me To Bottom Feeders

(30) Blair

The door shut behind Faultier with a little too much noise and it was as if the tears were cued to fall down my cheeks. I felt disgusted with myself for crying, but even more disgusted with myself for expecting Faultier to...change or something ridiculous like that. It was amazing how much that little creep had grown on me.

I buried my face into the pillow to muffle some sobs that escaped my resolve. What was I going to do after this thing came out? I didn't necessarily want a baby but having one taken away with Faultier and never seeing either of them again would be a hell I didn't want to imagine.

My life had been so carefree before. Everything I did was expertly planned to piss my mother off, and then she finally sent me away to forget about me for a little bit.

I rolled over and looked at the phone. It felt right to talk to your mother in these situations but I could only imagine me spilling my guts to her and then her saying something generic because she hadn't been listening.

I grabbed the cell and scrolled down to her contact, pressing 'call' before I could change my mind. The dial tone droned on, and eventually I was directed to a voicemail which I immediately closed out of.

Tossing the phone to the far corner of the room, I rolled over and just laid there, not thinking of anything in particular.

The door creaked open. I could tell from the timid steps that it was Danny. He fell on the bed next to me and leaned against the headboard.

"What are you doing?" I asked in a hoarse voice.

"I am writing a blog post."

"You're always writing a blog post," I said, rolling my eyes. "What are you doing in here?"

He paused before he answered. "Well, I figured that you should be included in this because I made a blog about your...situation."

"Is it titled 'Eighteen and Impregnated by a Tall Fish'?"

He snorted. "Unfortunately no, but I think that's the perfect title for you introductory post."

I sat up and stared at Danny's stupid smile before sighing and settling next to him, peering at the screen. He was writing some shitty backstory for my life, and on top of the shitty writing, it was also full of lies.

"I wasn't 'instantly taken by this strange creature'!" I slapped his arm. "If you're going to write fiction about me, let the audience know."

He huffed and deleted the sentence. "Fine, you win. How would you describe your first reaction to Faultier?"

I arched an eyebrow. "Fear? Definitely not a "weakened resolve for all things rational"! How does a person cope with the fact that there is a living fairytale right in front of them?"

"Fair enough," he shrugged. "If you're going to make this boring no one will actually read it." He coughed and muttered, "And my career won't be helped, but whatever."

I rolled my eyes. "Wait, so did you actually find people like...me out there?" I asked doubtfully.

"Eh." He opened another window on the browser. "I found this chick and it seems like it was a merman who knocked her up."

I scanned over the news story about a seventeen year old girl who disappeared for six months and came back with a baby. Local law enforcement had assumed that she ran away with her boyfriend but she insisted she wasn't pregnant when she disappeared. She was from this town in Washington that probably had a population of double their local law enforcement.

"I stalked her on social media and she had a girl...I'm guessing if she had a boy she wouldn't have come home with a kid."

"Yeah, that could have happened. Or she could have gotten knocked up by a loser boyfriend, ran away with him until she had birth and then he bailed on her. That's not so much of a fictional narrative.