"CrystalOak"

Chapter 1

        From my guessing, it has been fourteen weeks, two days, and eleven hours since I have been kidnapped and trapped in this dreadful place. By now, I wouldn’t be surprise if my family, and everyone think I’m dead. Honestly, I would rather be dead then be here. My name is Faith Dawn Spencer, and this is my story of how I ended up in a trashy basement, with a metal chain around my ankle, almost cutting off my circulation.

        To others, my life was perfect; to me, my life was pointless. Being the daughter of a really “important” company you would picture yourself sitting by the pool, holding a glass of the world’s best cup of coffee, as you’re soaking up all the sun on your drop dead, gorgeous body. No. It wasn’t like that, it never was. Everyday we would have long and boring lessons on how to protect yourself and self-defense; and when I say we, I mean my little brother and I. He’s four years younger than me, and I’m only seventeen. I never really had any friends. It’s not that I’m a freak or a loner; it’s just that I would shut people out; even my father. He didn’t seem to care anyway; he would always be too busy with running the company than to pay any attention to my brother or me.

        My mom died when I was eight. I don’t have much memory of her; in fact, I don’t have much memory of anything. The only thing I remember well is that my life was actually really pointless, and I don’t see why my father didn’t just drop my brother and I on a doorstep, ring the bell, and run. I kind of wish he did do that, because I’m pretty damn sure that we would be accepted to that family, and actually feel loved. But no, he didn’t do that. It would ruin his reputation if he did. A father who just abandons their kids?

        If you’re still wondering what company my father works at, it’s a drug working company. Yeah. Didn’t see that one coming. He sells all kinds of drugs. Not the good ones, the bad ones. Whenever he got paid, he would just waste it on prostitutes or strippers. Anything that would bring him pleasure. Basically, I was the one who had to take care of my little brother, oh; his name is Nolan Grey Spencer. From what I remember he would always be scared of our father; then again, who wouldn’t be?                

        It all started out about a week before I was kidnapped. As I was cooking, from what we had left from the fridge, our father came home holding two prostitutes on each side. I couldn’t really make a big deal out of it; I was already used to that. If I could estimate all the prostitutes and strippers he wasted good money on in this entire year, I would have to say 83, and it was only June 17 (So I think). Like I said, anything to bring him pleasure. Now, let me just get this out of the way, when you think of a guy who owns a “secret” drug company you would think he would have a beard with cigarette ashes in it, alcohol breath, and is dressed like a guy who doesn’t know fashion and doesn’t match, but wouldn’t care about it anyway cause he owns the biggest drug company in Washington D.C. or even the entire United States. Wrong again; for what he does, he is actually dressed fairly decent. Meaning decent, I mean a suit and tie along with a gun attached to his waste. He calls his drug company CrystalOak. My guessing is that crystal is a short abbreviation for crystal meth. I know it sounds really stupid, but surprisingly, no one has cracked the code. It’s unbelievable.

        Anyway, from what I was saying our father came home holding two prostitutes on each side. They weren’t even that appealing, he must have been extremely desperate for sex back then. Would prostitutes even go that far? One of the prostitutes had shoulder-length blonde hair, with an outfit that could pass for a black bikini. The other had red long curly hair that went passed her back, but not far enough to go any further. Remembering a little harder, I think they were both wearing too much makeup; enough to make it look like they could be part of a circus. Guess they were just as desperate as my father. Why am I even calling him father anymore? If he really was a father he would of found me by now. You know what, I’m going to call him, Sir Jackass The First. Too long? Okay then, I’ll just call him by his real name, Alden, which means wise guardian. 1.) He wasn’t very wise and 2.) He wasn’t much of a guardian. I don’t even know why our grandparents named him that in the first place. In fact, I don’t know why they handed Crystal Oak to Alden. The government is literally all over, tracking people down, who’s holding weed or anything that is illegal. Obviously that’s more important then a freaking kidnapping. I’m still pretty pissed that not even a siren has gone by here.