Don't Talk to Strangers

XXXVI

My father left me alone for what felt like centuries. He'd left my mind spinning and my entire being confused as hell. My father... I hadn't seen him in years. All my life, actually. Mom had always told me he left us when I was barely even one year old.

But he'd said "You've been kept away for too long." Kept away? Would that mean Mom was the one who'd left?

I could hardly keep track of which end was up. I didn't even know what time it was, or how long it'd been since I'd last been free. And it didn't help continuously being blindfolded. It only threw off my senses more; I swear I'd go insane before I got out of this.

I scoffed. "Yeah, like I'm going to get away." I had already accepted my fate. I was done with it all—I just wanted everything to stop burning and disorienting itself. 

When I heard the door open again, I couldn't help but cringe against the chair, feeling the dread creeping down my back again. I heard the heavy footsteps come closer and stop, standing in front of the chair in silence. I said nothing for a minute or so before snapping, "Just get it over with, already! Do something! I'm not your daughter." I wasn't going to let him finish me off thinking I believed him to be my father.

He laughed horribly. "Oh, Cassidy. You always were a bright spirit." I groaned, feeling like a stupid stereotypical victim. That was the perfect "bad-guy-turned-sympathetic-father" line.

 "Your mother never said anything, did she?" he continued, leaning closer to me. "She probably told you I left, like all the other worthless men she'd trapped before me." I swallowed hard. This can't be true. Don't listen to him. But still... I couldn't help wonder what my mother was really like. She'd never been one open to talk about the past. "Everything she says—every vile word that drips out of her mouth—is a lie, a putrid lie!"

He slammed his hand against the chair, making me jump. He started pacing around the room, not stopping in his insane rant. "She did everything wrong. I would've made everything right. I have you now," he hissed. "Nothing can take you away. I will make you perfect."

I wimpered as he grabbed my hair, tilting my face up. I could feel his horrid breath on my face and I nearly gagged. Suddenly, he loosened the grip, straightening up with a small gasp. "You're probably not even mine. That bitch was so wild—she'd never settle down!" He began laughing terrifyingly. Then his voice became quiet and he breathed, "Why should I have been any different?"

I wrenched my head away from his grip and held it stiff toward the ground. "She did a better job raising me than you ever would have," I spat. "What are you planning to do, keep me here and try to raise me again? A do-over of my childhood?" I almost laughed. "Even you can't be that ridiculous."

He roared with anger and I felt the burn of another slap, but I was too angry to truly react. He reached over and ripped the blindfold off, tearing my hair in the process. It stung badly, but I could only blink in the new light.

"Does this look ridiculous to you?" he hollered, throwing his arm behind him to sweep the room. I stared in shock. He'd recreated my entire childhood bedroom.

My writing has gone down the drain oh my god I'm sorry, I promise I'll try to make it better.