Cut Me Open

Prologue

Escape. That was the only goal 8-year-old Alisha had. She wanted to be relieved of the four corners of her room, breathe the fresh air outside and stay all day long at the playground. But instead, she was locked inside her own room, tied to a chair and starved. It all started before she could remember. She was an unplanned child, a mistake. She was too much of a distraction for two successful surgeons who might as well have bathed in gold. So, they thought, why not just get rid of her? Put her through adoption? Kill her? The answer was simple and selfish. It would not look good for their reputation, so they kept her. They took care of her well because they believed that Alisha would become someone they could control, someone submissive, someone they could boss around but she grew to be intelligent and independent. For this, her parents had gone back to hating her. So, they tried breaking her.

When she was six, they starved her, told her she was getting too fat. Then, at seven they locked her in her room, exclaimed she was ugly and a disgrace to the family. When she banged on the door, screaming and crying, they tied her down and gagged her, when she reached eight, she learned not disturb her parents. Whenever her parents were home, they went to her room for some play time. Play time consisted of knives, for cutting her arms, legs, stomach and back, and a bull whip if her parents were in a particularly bad mood. Most of her scars faded but it didn't matter because they were replaced with new ones. She could never tell anyone, they didn't have cooks, maids or gardeners. She didn't go to school either. Alisha was homeschooled, she was the one who cooked for them food and cleaned their house, while on a leash held by her masters,

She broke down in pain every day from the abuse her parents considered just. She didn't question their cruelty since she never knew kindness. But she begged, begged her parents, and begged God to take her. Then one day she stopped, stopped complaining, stopped begging and stopped crying. She had to suck it up. She had to take matters into her own hands because no one else will. She knew that they wanted her to be some puppet at their beck and call and so she would. She would have to suck it up until she found the door to freedom. So, for four years, Alisha plotted to escape her misery and when she did, she made sure they wouldn't be able live to see another day.

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"Wake up, Mommy" the 12-year-old girl said.

The young girl's mother, Linda, slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was hazy; she could feel the ropes tying her down to her chair. Linda tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness; there was only one bulb down in the basement. Beside her was her husband who, like her, was tied up in a chair with a gag. In front of her was her daughter, Alisha, smiling sweetly as she held a glass of water on one hand and a sharp knife dripping with blood on the other.

"Hello, Mommy. Did you sleep well?" she asked with the same sweet grin.

Linda tried to speak yet nothing came through, she was not gagged unlike her unconscious husband. She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly like a fish trying to breathe, she could not speak. So, she glared as hard as she could at the little girl, shifting around in her seat to get loose.

"Sorry Mom. I forgot you couldn't speak. Why don't you just look at the surprise I left on your lap?" Alisha snickered.

Linda looked down on her lap and saw a small red blob drenched in blood. Surely it wasn't what she thought it was, right? She looked back at her daughter who was drinking from her glass, she felt thirsty. She swallowed deeply. Blood. Linda was now aware what the blob on her lap was, it was a tongue, it was her tongue. Fear. Her blood had turned cold, she felt sick. She screamed as tears ran down her face, Alisha smirked.

"Don't cry, it ruins your pretty face. Why don't you smile instead?" she frowned.

She didn't listen, she continued to scream and shuffle in her seat. Her ears started ringing, and the room was spinning. She felt faint.