SEIZED Part 5: A Steamy New Adult Romantic Suspense Thriller (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) by JC Coulton Page A
Authors: JC Coulton
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first thing I did was rescue Lucy’s feather. They will not take that away from me. My collection of memories is growing now; the hole under the floorboard is my salvation. When I came off the streets tonight, I lifted the board. I sat and stared at everything that was inside. Memories of my Dad began to overwhelm me as I looked at the earring. There is no way to convey the pain and regret I’m feeling. I should have never left home. Mum will have to cope somehow.
Next I look at the nail file. What a stupid little girl I was to think something like that could protect me. There was nothing I could have done for Lucy. Those punks would have laughed and owned me. When it came down to it, I was crippled. I couldn’t even stroke her hair. The only blessing is she seemed to have lost her mind before it happened. Maybe she didn’t feel it like I did—the crunch of his boot in her flesh. That sound will never leave me. There’s no music loud enough to block it out. It is printed forever on the inside of my eardrum.
If you read this notebook, you will understand the truth about what happened. You may also be one of us. I started writing to help the next girl who finds herself in this place, but now, I hope there won’t be anyone else. These pages have started to fill up with my pain, but when I started, I want it to give you hope. Still, every word I write makes it a tiny bit easier to stay alive. I am close now to letting go. It’s hard to remain hopeful in a place like this. Lucy used to talk about the wind and the sky and the universal knowledge. None of that exists in this room without her.
I trusted what she said. That we’d get out of here. Now, I have no faith.
Day Eleven
Today I am numb. They’re giving me more and more drugs each time. Maybe they can hear me screaming. I don’t even hold it in. I’ve been looking at the walls and thinking about birds.
Flying away would be amazing. I’d need to be able to float up and through the screen that blocks the window. Or maybe I can do it when I’m on a street corner. If I could become only a particle of myself, it would work. I am smaller now anyway.
My mind is smaller, my brain is smaller, and I am shrinking every day. My soul is disappearing, and my body is leaving too. I’ve never been so thin. My arms are like sticks. I am fading away.
I don’t know if I will make it to the day when someone rescues me. I don’t know if I can wait it out any longer. I’m serious. I want to sleep forever. I can’t touch one more cock. I can’t taste another john without vomiting. I can’t have one more man put his hands on me.
My mind is going. I can feel it. Each day I spend more and more time dreaming about the past. It’s my only escape. I’m not even in my body anymore. When they hurt me, I just leave and go to that spot in the corner of my mind, where things are soft and fuzzy and painless. That place has memories of my parents hugging me; memories of the time I won a spelling bee. I even remember the first time I saw a butterfly.
I want to stay in that little place all the time, and never see the walls of this room again. I want to disappear. I think about dying every day. I don’t know how I could do it. Maybe I can step in front of a car when I’m on the street again. All I know is I can’t do this anymore. I know I’ve said this a million times, but now I can’t. Please help me. I need to sleep.
Day Twelve
Today I know that I can’t go on. They have taken my freedom, and my will to live. With Lucy gone, I have no one to hold on to.
I want to keep writing, I need to keep writing. But I look at my handwriting on the page and I can barely read them. Is this insanity? Am I losing my mind? I think it’s happening and when it does, I will have nothing left.
Freedom of thought is something I didn’t believe they could ever take from me. But here we are. The day has come when I don’t know if my screams are real or just in my head.
To the
Next I look at the nail file. What a stupid little girl I was to think something like that could protect me. There was nothing I could have done for Lucy. Those punks would have laughed and owned me. When it came down to it, I was crippled. I couldn’t even stroke her hair. The only blessing is she seemed to have lost her mind before it happened. Maybe she didn’t feel it like I did—the crunch of his boot in her flesh. That sound will never leave me. There’s no music loud enough to block it out. It is printed forever on the inside of my eardrum.
If you read this notebook, you will understand the truth about what happened. You may also be one of us. I started writing to help the next girl who finds herself in this place, but now, I hope there won’t be anyone else. These pages have started to fill up with my pain, but when I started, I want it to give you hope. Still, every word I write makes it a tiny bit easier to stay alive. I am close now to letting go. It’s hard to remain hopeful in a place like this. Lucy used to talk about the wind and the sky and the universal knowledge. None of that exists in this room without her.
I trusted what she said. That we’d get out of here. Now, I have no faith.
Day Eleven
Today I am numb. They’re giving me more and more drugs each time. Maybe they can hear me screaming. I don’t even hold it in. I’ve been looking at the walls and thinking about birds.
Flying away would be amazing. I’d need to be able to float up and through the screen that blocks the window. Or maybe I can do it when I’m on a street corner. If I could become only a particle of myself, it would work. I am smaller now anyway.
My mind is smaller, my brain is smaller, and I am shrinking every day. My soul is disappearing, and my body is leaving too. I’ve never been so thin. My arms are like sticks. I am fading away.
I don’t know if I will make it to the day when someone rescues me. I don’t know if I can wait it out any longer. I’m serious. I want to sleep forever. I can’t touch one more cock. I can’t taste another john without vomiting. I can’t have one more man put his hands on me.
My mind is going. I can feel it. Each day I spend more and more time dreaming about the past. It’s my only escape. I’m not even in my body anymore. When they hurt me, I just leave and go to that spot in the corner of my mind, where things are soft and fuzzy and painless. That place has memories of my parents hugging me; memories of the time I won a spelling bee. I even remember the first time I saw a butterfly.
I want to stay in that little place all the time, and never see the walls of this room again. I want to disappear. I think about dying every day. I don’t know how I could do it. Maybe I can step in front of a car when I’m on the street again. All I know is I can’t do this anymore. I know I’ve said this a million times, but now I can’t. Please help me. I need to sleep.
Day Twelve
Today I know that I can’t go on. They have taken my freedom, and my will to live. With Lucy gone, I have no one to hold on to.
I want to keep writing, I need to keep writing. But I look at my handwriting on the page and I can barely read them. Is this insanity? Am I losing my mind? I think it’s happening and when it does, I will have nothing left.
Freedom of thought is something I didn’t believe they could ever take from me. But here we are. The day has come when I don’t know if my screams are real or just in my head.
To the
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