Break The Cycle (Chris Motionless' Daughter)

Chapter 5

Trigger Warning: Violent mentions of abuse and rape.

Riley's POV

10 Years, 10 months later.

After about a year in his custody, my kidnapper, Sam (at least, that's what he told me his name was) grew tired of me. I was only five at the time; I wasn't as "entertaining" to him as I am now. However, Sam knew that he couldn't just set me free; I would be found and he would be arrested. So, Sam put me in school, and told me that if I told anyone who I was, who he was, or what he did, that he would kill my dad. I don't know if he's lying or not, but I'd rather not risk it.

"Sam" then picks me up from school everyday and takes me "home". Half the time, he's drunk or high or something. Once we get back to the house, he pushes me down into the basement where he keeps me, watches me as I do my homework so he can make sure I don't try to escape while my hands aren't bound; and if I'm lucky, when I'm finished, he'll feed me, then handcuff me to the bed so I don't escape and he leaves. Then the next morning, the cycle starts again.

Other days, however, I'm not so lucky.

The first time he did it, I was ten years old. It was in the middle of the night. "Sam" drunkenly stumbled into the basement and woke me up. By then, I'd gotten used to having one of my hands cuffed to the bed. Before I could really understand what was happening, he'd put duct tape over my mouth and rearranged the handcuffs so that both my hands were bound. Despite my efforts to stop him by kicking, he eventually won after hitting me a bunch of times, and then he was filling my insides and breaking my hymen, sending me into a world of pain and fear.

I continued to try and fight him off as best I could until I was about twelve or thirteen. I'd always try to kick him away. Then he'd punch my face or something else terrible. No matter what I tried to do, the night would end the same way, and I'd fall asleep with the terrible taste combination of blood and semen in my mouth.

Eventually, I stopped trying to fight him off. There was no longer a point. He always won anyway, and I'd just end up more hurt. One night, I finally decided just to lay back and deal with it. I always wince in pain at his tight grip on my hips that often leaves bruises and at his hard thrusts into me. I try to keep quiet though, afraid of being punished if I made a sound. My head smacks against the back board of the bed with each thrust, and the handcuffs rub against my wrists which sometimes causes them to bleed. I just stare at the ceiling, blurry as my eyes fill with tears, and try to day dream of a better life while tears run down my face as he pulls himself in and out of me.

Kind of hard to do that though when you have a middle-aged man balls-deep inside of you.

I'm very thin. I don't eat much of what little foods "Sam" gives me. One time, he gave me an apple with a razor blade in it. He just did it for fun; because he enjoyed seeing me in pain; because he could. I couldn't talk for a week. I've been afraid of most foods he's given me ever since.

However, I do take the pills. "Sam" made me start taking these pills every day when I was about twelve. I wasn't really sure what they were at first though. They come in this little white circular container. Sam watches me to make sure I take them. The first time I took them, I was afraid it was poison or something else terrible. However, they weren't. They didn't seem to do anything at first.

I learned last year in school that the pills are birth control.

I now voluntarily take the pills.

Which leads us to today. "Sam" watches as I get dressed and ready for school, then hands me my pill. I take it dry without a problem. I open my mouth and "Sam" checks to make sure I'm not faking it. I always swallow it though.