[stylist] Releasing the Demons 1

[Samara Raine]

Thank you so much, Paul. I'm so glad my story could reach you in such a way. 
I certainly hope future chapters are accepted as this one was. It's all a 
first draft, so there will always be problems, but I'm touched at how the 
positives are also pointed out.

Thank you so much.

All of you.

Samara


----- Original Message ----- 
From: "PAUL BAVER" <pebaver at verizon.net>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Sunday, June 17, 2012 12:56 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] Releasing the Demons 1


> Hi Samara  wow what a picture you have painted for the reader. Your story 
> is so revealing for the reader and paints that picture that keeps the 
> reader gasping, and it made me want to cry for Madelyn. I for one am 
> looking forward to more. Thank you for sharing it with us. Paul E Baver
> ----- Original Message ----- 
> From: "Samara Raine" <samararaine at gmail.com>
> To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> Sent: Saturday, June 16, 2012 12:46 AM
> Subject: [stylist] Releasing the Demons 1
>
>
>> This is a first draft that is always being edited and tweaked, even as I 
>> continue to add more to it. Please be gentle with your criticisms. This 
>> is my baby, and I'm really hesitant to be posting it here.
>>
>>
>>
>> Summary:
>>
>> Kidnapped and forced into a world where girls are nothing more than 
>> property, Madeleine's only outlet is through her journal. Where following 
>> the rules could very well mean the difference between life or death, only 
>> the pleasing survive.
>>
>>
>>
>> Warnings and Notes:
>>
>> I know Madeleine doesn't write like a thirteen-year-old girl, and I'm 
>> aware that will detract from the image of a young teenager. I'm using a 
>> bit of a cop out and calling her a borderline genius. Think Hermione 
>> Granger from Harry Potter with less know-it-all traits. I'm sorry if this 
>> disappoints you, but no matter how hard I try, I simply can't write in 
>> the voice of today's teen.
>>
>>
>>
>> I've toyed with making her sixteen instead of thirteen, as I also feel 
>> the older age may be more acceptable as the story progresses, but I 
>> haven't decided one way or the other yet.
>>
>>
>>
>> Please keep in mind that this story deals with very sensative subjects 
>> such as child slavery, prostitution and rape. There will be course 
>> language and scenes containing graphic violence. I can't say 'If this 
>> upsets you, don't read.' It is a raw tale told through the eyes of a 
>> child who is being wronged. If I do my job right, it will upset you. So 
>> the decision is left with you. If you feel you can handle it, then 
>> welcome. If not, then I strongly suggest you skip this one.
>>
>>
>>
>> Releasing The Demons
>>
>> By
>>
>> Samara Raine
>>
>>
>>
>> Introduction
>>
>>
>>
>> Present Day
>>
>>
>>
>> My name is Madeleine Tamlin. I was born on March 16, 1998 and for the 
>> first thirteen years of my life, I lived with my family in Port Saint 
>> Lucie Florida.
>>
>>
>>
>> On June 10, 2011, everything changed. I was abducted by a stranger and 
>> forced into a world of debauchery that I could not understand. Life was 
>> simpler in Camp, the name of the large estate that was my prison. It was 
>> a place where only the pleasing survived. Obedience was rewarded while 
>> any infractions were dealt with swiftly and mercilessly.
>>
>>
>>
>> It didn't take long before I learned what was expected of me. But even as 
>> I fell further and further into the emotional trap my captor had laid, I 
>> could never puzzle out his reasons for doing what he did. He was not a 
>> troubled man. By this, I mean he appeared mentally sound. In five years, 
>> I never heard him attempt to explain away his actions. Whenever I asked 
>> him why he'd taken me, he'd answer quite plainly.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Because I wanted to," he would say.
>>
>>
>>
>> Everything he did was premeditated, from abduction to training to 
>> discipline. He had a knack for taming the fighters (like me,) without 
>> crushing our spirits. He broke my will and shattered my resistance, but 
>> never once did he obliterate all that made me who I was.
>>
>>
>>
>> I didn't see it like this at the time. In the last five years, I've lost 
>> my dignity, feared for my life, had my innocence torn away and watched a 
>> dear friend die. but I've had many months to reflect on my captivity. 
>> During these reflections, I've come to some startling conclusions; the 
>> most disturbing of which is the realization that I still wish I were 
>> there.
>>
>>
>>
>> In order for you to understand why I feel this way, I must take you back 
>> five years, to the night of my capture and all that followed. I kept a 
>> journal throughout my captivity. I think the time has come to share it.
>>
>>
>>
>> My name is Madeleine Tamlin. I was born on March 16, 1998 and for the 
>> first thirteen years of my life, I lived with my family in Port Saint 
>> Lucie Florida.
>>
>>
>>
>> For the next five, I lived in New York as a slave to a Master who I wish 
>> had never set me free.
>>
>>
>>
>> The Journal of Madeleine Elise Tamlin
>>
>>
>>
>> Wednesday, June 15, 2011
>>
>> 6:27 AM
>>
>>
>>
>> Capture
>>
>>
>>
>> My name is Madeleine Tamlin. I'm thirteen-years-old and I used to live in 
>> Florida before I was brought here to New York.
>>
>>
>>
>> I'm about five feet tall, with long, dark red hair and emerald eyes. My 
>> skin's quite fair and I bruise more easily than an egg yolk. I'm slender, 
>> with the shapely legs of a dancer.
>>
>>
>>
>> I love belly dancing. I was in a troop back home. We had the best times 
>> competing with other troops in friendly competitions and performing at 
>> festivals like Relay For Life and Ren Fair. I also adore reading, and can 
>> recite Amid Summer Night's Dream by heart. I'm a right little Hermione 
>> Granger, don't you know.
>>
>>
>>
>> I was on the honor role at school, as well as the top student of my 
>> grade. I was also a member of the student counsel. I was the secretary, 
>> cookie provider and argument killer. Pamela Peacemaker, that's me.
>>
>>
>>
>> So I guess you're wondering how I got HERE, huh? To be honest, journal, 
>> I'm not sure my mind's actually caught up to my body. Or if it has, it 
>> clearly suffered some damage from the trip. This all feels like a dream, 
>> and I'm not as scared as I think I should be. It's as if the last three 
>> days happened to someone else, and I'm just the onlooker.
>>
>>
>>
>> Was I afraid? Definitely. But that's gone now, like I said. Maybe I'm 
>> just too emotionally drained to feel anything but numb. Everything 
>> happened so fast, and I wasn't given any warning.
>>
>>
>>
>> Maybe I should just tell you about it. It'd probably be smart to write it 
>> all down before I forget. I don't think that'll be any time soon, but I'm 
>> not sure I should risk it.
>>
>>
>>
>> My parents had been fighting again. They were in the middle of a divorce, 
>> but dad still came over each day so he and mom could continue their epic 
>> smackdowns. My brother Jeremiah - Jem for short - was out studying with 
>> friends. He always said that if it weren't for me, he'd never come home. 
>> He said he had to protect me.
>>
>>
>>
>> I know what you're thinking, journal. He didn't do a good job of that, 
>> did he? But you're wrong. He did his best. He couldn't have known what 
>> was about to happen. No one could have.
>>
>>
>>
>> Anyway, after awhile, the screaming and breaking of things really began 
>> to upset me. I was both angry that they were more concerned with where 
>> the china and furniture was going to go rather than their own kids, and I 
>> was miserable at how far my family had fallen. We used to have fun 
>> together, all of us. Now Jem and I couldn't stand to be around our 
>> parents. But only we seemed to get just how sad that was.
>>
>>
>>
>> My bedroom was above the living room, but it wasn't as wide. This left me 
>> with about thirty feet of roof to scoot across in order to reach the pipe 
>> at the side of the house. It was pretty easy to sneak out. A bit harder 
>> getting back in, though.
>>
>>
>>
>> The yelling was louder on the ground. I took off running as soon as my 
>> sneakers touched the grass. I figured I'd head over to my best friend 
>> Jasmine's for awhile. Her parents knew what was going on at my house and 
>> their door was always open to me. Jem would know to look for me there if 
>> I was still gone when he came home. I'd left the red silk sash of my 
>> bathrobe tied to the curtain rod just in case, though.
>>
>>
>>
>> Red meant I'd run to escape our parents.
>> White meant I was out visiting friends or doing something neutral like 
>> shopping or playing on the swings at the park down the road.
>> Blue meant I was doing something for school. Counsel meeting, extra help, 
>> etc.
>> Yellow meant I was with the troop.
>>
>>
>>
>> I swung by Jasmine's, but she and her family were on their way out to 
>> eat. They asked me if I wanted to go, but I shook my head.
>>
>>
>>
>> "You're going to Duffy's, right?"
>>
>>
>>
>> Jasmine nodded.
>>
>>
>>
>> "I can't," I said. "Tiffany knows me too well. If she sees me there, 
>> she'll be bound to tell mom and dad the next time they're in. And then 
>> I'll be grounded for a century."
>>
>>
>>
>> Tiffany was my parents' favorite waitress at the sports bar known as 
>> Duffy's. Although I wanted to go with my friend, I had too many self 
>> preservation instincts to possibly run into someone who would completely 
>> blow my cover. So I waved Jasmine and her parents off and headed for the 
>> playground near the middle school.
>>
>>
>>
>> The gate squeaked when I opened it. It always did that, but for some 
>> reason, I noticed it more that night. Almost like it was an omen or 
>> something, this squeaky gate in the silence you get just before a storm. 
>> Tonight, the storm was both literal and figurative.
>>
>>
>>
>> It started to drizzle as I made my way across the basketball court. I 
>> ignored it. I loved the rain.
>>
>>
>>
>> My sneakers seemed extra loud on the mats around the swings. You know the 
>> kind. They keep stupid kids who jump off at the height of their arc from 
>> breaking their necks. They're black, and get really hot in the summer, 
>> but just then, they were growing slippery with rain.
>>
>>
>>
>> When I reached the swings, I checked before sitting down, making sure the 
>> one I chose had no bird poop on it. That seemed to be common with swings, 
>> and I had no desire to plop my butt down into grossness. Thankfully, it 
>> was clean.
>>
>>
>>
>> I loved those swings. They were the real sturdy kind with the thick seats 
>> and long, heavy chains. As any veteran swinger can tell you, the length 
>> of the chains combined with the force of your pumping is what really 
>> controls the height of the swing.
>>
>>
>>
>> The higher and higher I went, the further and further away all my 
>> troubles seemed. The forward movement made butterflies explode in my 
>> stomach, and I giggled. When the skies opened five minutes later and 
>> drenched me in rain, when the thunder rolled and the lightning ripped 
>> across the sky, I threw my head back and laughed. I had never felt so 
>> free and alive. I'd never been a part of something so wildly beautiful.
>>
>>
>>
>> Rain lashed my face and the wind whipped at my loose hair. Thunder 
>> crashed in my ears and I could smell the distinct scent of ozone. I 
>> inhaled deeply and knew at once I'd never breathed such clean air. I 
>> could almost taste it on my tongue. The storm was rejuvenating the earth, 
>> giving it strength to endure another day. It was the single most 
>> incredible experience of my life.
>>
>>
>>
>> I was so exhilarated, I didn't even notice the sharp pain on the side of 
>> my neck until my limbs began failing me. Almost in slow motion, my limp 
>> fingers slipped from the wet chains. I jerked forward, trying to catch my 
>> balance, but my body wasn't obeying any of my commands. I was rapidly 
>> losing control of all motor function. I tried to scream, but even that 
>> small act took too much effort. All that came out was a low keen.
>>
>>
>>
>> I watched in fascination as the world tilted sharply to the left and the 
>> mats slowly approached me. I felt like I was flying, and I almost smiled. 
>> I was scared, but not like I should have been. My mind was too fuzzy for 
>> fear. I was, instead, curious about the flashing lights and the rushing 
>> sound filling my ears.
>>
>>
>>
>> I landed with a soft thud, my entire body limp. It didn't hurt, but I 
>> wasn't feeling much by then. My left cheek was pressed against the cold 
>> mat on which I lay, my eyes only half open. I felt like I was still 
>> moving, and I was convinced the ground had sprouted wings and was 
>> carrying me away from whatever awful thing was happening to me. I smiled 
>> softly before the heavy weight of unconsciousness dragged me down into 
>> darkness.
>>
>>
>>
>> When I awoke, the first thing I realized was that I could move again. The 
>> second thing was that I WAS, in fact, moving. Something beneath me 
>> vibrated steadily, periodically tilting and jouncing. It took me quite 
>> awhile to realize it was a vehicle of some sort and that I was lying on 
>> something soft. A blanket, maybe. My mind was still trying to extricate 
>> itself from the grip of whatever drug had been used on me. For I knew 
>> then that it had to be some sort of drug. The burning pain in the side of 
>> my neck attested to that. I hadn't seen anything. Distracted by the storm 
>> or not, I knew I would have noticed someone creeping up on me. There had 
>> been no unnatural movement caught out of the corner of my eye, which led 
>> me to believe I'd been darted like an animal.
>>
>>
>>
>> I shook my head and blinked my eyes open. I couldn't see anything. 
>> Closing them again, I counted to five before trying again. Still, all 
>> that met my gaze was blackness.
>>
>>
>>
>> Panic seized me then. Had I been blinded by the drug? What if I was 
>> allergic to it? Or perhaps the dart had hit something vital. I'd been 
>> struck in the neck, after all. I began to sob. What was happening to me? 
>> Where was I? Questions raced through my mind so fast I had scarcely 
>> thought of one before another five took its place.
>>
>>
>>
>> Whimpering, I attempted to push myself to my knees, only to discover with 
>> a thrill of horror that my hands were bound. This only made me cry 
>> harder. I pulled my arms toward me, elbows bent, intent on crawling 
>> toward where I suspected the back hatch to be. I was being carried to the 
>> right, not forward. Assuming I was lying with my head on the driver's 
>> side, the back of the truck should be to my left.
>>
>>
>>
>> I didn't get very far. When my elbows were only slightly bent, I met with 
>> resistance. Futilely, I tugged, but to no avail. Only then did the sound 
>> of my tugging register in my mind. It was the clink and rattle of chain 
>> against something metallic. I've seen A Christmas Carol. I know what 
>> chains sound like.
>>
>>
>>
>> Moaning, I let my head fall to the blanket. The substance beneath it felt 
>> oddly soft, like sawdust, or perhaps sand. It was impossible to tell 
>> which, however, since I could see nothing of my surroundings.
>>
>>
>>
>> Sniffling softly, I closed my eyes and tried to relax. It was easier than 
>> I thought it would be. The drug had mostly worn off, but it still left me 
>> with a lethargic feeling that I quickly took advantage of. I focused on 
>> the movement of the vehicle and soon I was lying there in a trance-like 
>> stupor. After awhile, the stupor became sleep, and I was once more 
>> shrouded in oblivion.
>>
>>
>>
>> The next time I awoke, it was sudden. The movement had stopped and the 
>> vibrations were gone. Opening my eyes, I was nearly blinded by the light 
>> streaming in from one of the open doors to my left. The doors, I 
>> realized, of a large truck. Struggling into as upright a position as I 
>> could manage with my wrists bound, I arched my neck to try and see if I 
>> could get a glimpse of who had taken me. I saw no one.
>>
>>
>>
>> Sighing, I glared at the open door, tempting me with the prospect of 
>> freedom. So close, yet so far.
>>
>>
>>
>> A breeze wafted into the truck and I shivered violently. It took me only 
>> a few moments to realize I was naked. When I did, I gasped and tried to 
>> wrap myself in the blanket. With both my wrists and ankles bound, that 
>> wasn't happening.
>>
>>
>>
>> Glancing around, I discovered that the substance on the floor was, in 
>> fact, sand. It didn't appear to be very deep, and it was pure white as 
>> though it had been taken straight from Caribbean shores.
>>
>>
>>
>> After witnessing this, my curiosity overcame me for a moment. I looked 
>> about at what I could see of my surroundings, trying to learn something, 
>> anything about who had taken me. What I saw was not comforting.
>>
>>
>>
>> I started with my restraints. I had been bound by manacles that were 
>> locked onto my wrists. No flimsy handcuffs for this kidnapper. A chain 
>> ran from the cuffs to an iron ring bolted to the floor. My ankles had 
>> been similarly bound, though they were not attached to an anchor. 
>> Glancing around, I saw that my ring wasn't the only one. There were six, 
>> three on each side of the truck. Each was spaced about two feet apart and 
>> each had a chain looped about it, secured with a small, heavy lock. Mine 
>> was the only one occupied, however.
>>
>>
>>
>> Several nails had been hammered into the side of the vehicle, and from 
>> them hung various implements. From one, I saw a long-handled whip with 
>> five broad leather straps. A riding crop hung from another, and on a 
>> third, I saw a large wooden paddle with holes drilled through the thick 
>> wood. The sight of these torture tools made my blood run cold.
>>
>>
>>
>> My inspection was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the 
>> truck. My heart began to beat wildly and I squinted against the bright 
>> sunlight as I waited for my captor to appear.
>>
>>
>>
>> When I saw him, my eyes widened. He was the tallest man I'd ever seen. 
>> His wavy black hair fell to his shoulders and his eyes were the 
>> green-gray of a stormy ocean. He had chiseled features, like those on the 
>> granite statues of Greek gods I'd seen at the Metropolotin museum the 
>> year before. His skin was nicely tanned and I knew that if I hadn't been 
>> so frightened, I would have been quite smitten with him. He was dressed 
>> in black from head to toe and he carried a wrapped bundle in his hands.
>>
>>
>>
>> Placing one foot on the floor of the truck, he leapt inside with an 
>> agility that astounded me. I stared. When he started to approach me, I 
>> suddenly became very conscious of my helplessness. Naked and bound, I 
>> couldn't fight him if he decided to rape or kill me.
>>
>>
>>
>> When he reached me, he crouched near my head. Setting his bundle down, he 
>> unclipped a large key ring from his belt and unlocked my chain from 
>> around the iron ring.
>>
>>
>>
>> Gratefully, I struggled into a sitting position, scooting away from him 
>> as best I could with my wrists and ankles still bound. In the next 
>> moment, I yelped in surprise. The man had fastened his hand in my hair. 
>> The touch wasn't cruel, but it was firm. I didn't dare move, lest he rip 
>> out the handful he held.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Stay," he ordered. His voice was deep and smooth and rang with command.
>>
>>
>>
>> I froze. I couldn't help it. You just didn't disobey a voice like that.
>>
>>
>>
>> The man then reached around me and unlocked the manacles binding my 
>> wrists. I smiled, and was about to thank him when he jerked my arms 
>> behind my back and re-bound them. My lip trembled and tears filled my 
>> eyes. When my wrists were once again secure, he unlocked the restraints 
>> on my ankles. Those, he kept off.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Kneel," he said.
>>
>>
>>
>> I struggled into the position, rather difficult without use of your 
>> hands. I knelt rigidly, my body shaped like an L. All my weight was on my 
>> knees and I could already tell just how uncomfortable that was going to 
>> get.
>>
>>
>>
>> The man frowned and shook his head. Moving to stand behind me, he wrapped 
>> his hand around my throat and pulled back. Terrified he meant to strangle 
>> me, I followed the pressure until my hips were resting on my heels. I 
>> glanced back at him. He grabbed my hair and forced my eyes forward. It 
>> hurt, but the movement meant his fingers were no longer at my throat. At 
>> the moment, that was all I cared about.
>>
>>
>>
>> When he was facing me again, I looked up at him. Our gazes locked and 
>> held.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Stay," he commanded.
>>
>>
>>
>> "I'm not a fucking dog," I snapped.
>>
>>
>>
>> I thought my head would fly from my neck from the force with which he 
>> struck me. The blow was open handed, but the strength behind it sent me 
>> reeling. I rolled away from him, too stunned even to scream. Through the 
>> haze of pain, I heard his sharp command and rushed to obey it. I 
>> scrambled into the position he'd showed me, my entire body trembling.
>>
>>
>>
>> Blinking away tears, I stared fearfully into his eyes. He didn't appear 
>> angry, nor did he look apologetic. His face was impassive, almost 
>> expressionless.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Stay."
>>
>>
>>
>> I kept my mouth shut this time.
>>
>>
>>
>> He watched me for a few seconds longer before, seeming satisfied, he bent 
>> to pick up the bundle he'd entered with. I followed his every movement 
>> like a hawk. I was pleasantly surprised when he removed the covering to 
>> reveal a bottle of water and a small plate of chicken strips and baby 
>> carrots. The chicken looked like the kind you get in fajitas, little 
>> bite-sized bits of heaven. Each piece was sliced so that it was no longer 
>> than the carrots beside which they lay.
>>
>>
>>
>> Lifting a piece of chicken from the plate, the man motioned for me to 
>> lean forward. Was he kidding? I stared at him incredulously. He expected 
>> me to take the meat from his hand like a dog? Furious, but too frightened 
>> of his reaction to protest, I did as he instructed. I was hungry. I 
>> hadn't realized it before, but now that the food was in front of me, my 
>> empty stomach was making itself known.
>>
>>
>>
>> I had been right. The chicken was exactly the kind found in fajitas. It 
>> was even still warm. Leaning back on my heels, my eyes closed and I 
>> hummed appreciatively as the flavor exploded on my tongue. When I'd 
>> finished that piece, I opened my eyes and leant forward for another.
>>
>>
>>
>> I ate in this fashion, the man never permitting me to feed myself. When 
>> the food was gone, he brought out the water. Taking me firmly by the 
>> hair, he drew my head back and pressed the neck of the bottle to my lips. 
>> Water rushed into my mouth and I swallowed eagerly. The meat had been 
>> well seasoned, and I was parched after eating it. The juice from the 
>> carrots helped a bit, but I was immensely grateful for the water just the 
>> same. When I had eaten and drank, my captor re-fastened my hands before 
>> me and bound me once more to the ring in the floor. After shackling my 
>> ankles together, he left without a backward glance.
>>
>>
>>
>> This continued for several days. I was able to keep a rough estimate 
>> based on my feedings, and if I'm right, I passed three days in the truck 
>> before we arrived at our destination. They were three days of degradation 
>> the likes of which I had never known. Eating from the hand of my 
>> kidnapper wasn't so bad. At least he fed me. But when it came time to 
>> relieve myself, it was quite obvious I was viewed as something less-than 
>> human.
>>
>>
>>
>> That same night, he returned. He unbound my ankles and released me from 
>> my ring. I was curious, because he didn't have a bundle with him this 
>> time.
>>
>>
>>
>> He instructed me to kneel and I obeyed. From his pocket, he withdrew a 
>> choke collar which he fastened around my neck without a second thought. 
>> Clipping a leash to it, he gave an experimental tug. I gagged.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Up," he said and I rose to my feet. "Walk."
>>
>>
>>
>> My first thought upon leaping from the truck was that he'd parked us in 
>> the ass crack of nowhere. Only the moon lit the darkness. We were in a 
>> small clearing surrounded by trees. I tried to look over my shoulder to 
>> catch a glimpse of the truck's license plate, but a hard jerk on the 
>> leash had me rethinking that plan. It's kind of hard to memorize 
>> something when you're choking.
>>
>>
>>
>> He led me over to a large tree and waited. I stared at the tree, then at 
>> him, confused.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Relieve," he ordered and my jaw dropped.
>>
>>
>>
>> "What?" I gasped.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Relieve."
>>
>>
>>
>> I looked from him to the tree and back again. "You've gotta be kidding 
>> me!"
>>
>>
>>
>> The collar tightened perceptibly. Swallowing, I turned and crouched by 
>> the tree. Tears filled my eyes as I relieved myself, more exposed than 
>> I'd ever been in my life. When I was done, I looked to him for something 
>> to wipe with. He motioned for me to drag my nether regions along the 
>> grass. Cheeks burning, tears falling like rain, I obeyed.
>>
>>
>>
>> Afterword, when I was secured and left alone in the back of the truck, I 
>> wept.
>>
>>
>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>
>>
>>
>> The house was large and white, set on a sprawling acreage of land. I 
>> glimpsed rolling fields and dirt paths as I was led, leashed, toward a 
>> side entrance. It was night. Floodlights illuminated the area around the 
>> building, and I heard the snarling of dogs in the darkness. I shivered. I 
>> hated dogs.
>>
>>
>>
>> My captor unlocked a black steel door and thrust me into a small room lit 
>> by a single bulb. Leading me across the freezing stone floor, he pressed 
>> me, face first against the wall. I felt cold iron against my cheek and 
>> heard a click as another chain was attached to the collar around my 
>> throat. Looking up, I saw another one of those infernal rings mounted 
>> high on the wall.
>>
>>
>>
>> He left me then, and I listened to him close and relock the door we'd 
>> just come through. He moved to my right, and I turned my head, following 
>> him with my eyes. Approaching a second door, this one of heavy wood, he 
>> unlocked it. He then came back to me and removed the chain attaching me 
>> to the ring.
>>
>>
>>
>> Sliding his wrist through the loop at the end of the leash, he motioned 
>> me forward. As I neared the second door, I felt the collar tighten. I 
>> glanced over my shoulder when I reached it, unsure if he wanted me to 
>> open it or to wait for him to do so. He nodded, and I turned the knob.
>>
>>
>>
>> We were standing at the end of a long, shadowy corridor . The only 
>> illumination came from the bulb in the entry room, and that was shortly 
>> eclipsed as my captor closed and locked the door. Soon, however, light 
>> flooded the hall as the fluorescents overhead were flicked on.
>>
>>
>>
>> I gasped. Not from the pain of the blinding light, but from the horror of 
>> what it revealed. Lining both walls were cages, and inside them, stirring 
>> and blinking as they were awoken by the sudden brightness, were girls. 
>> Some had kicked off their blankets, and I saw that they were all naked.
>>
>>
>>
>> I wondered at such cruelty. Many of the girls appeared to be my age. Only 
>> kids. How could one man be so completely heartless, and what had made him 
>> feel he had the right to treat people this way?
>>
>>
>>
>> As I stood there in shock, my captor turned the collar I wore around so 
>> that the leash now extended from the front rather than the back. This 
>> left him in the lead, and I followed mutely as he began pulling me along 
>> the rows of cages.
>>
>>
>>
>> Each cage was approximately six by eight feet, their steel bars about the 
>> thickness of a man's index finger. The vertical bars were spaced at eight 
>> inch intervals, the horizontal bars at six inches. This left squares 
>> large enough for a girl's hands to slip through, but too small for any 
>> attempt at escape to be made. In the far right corner of each, I saw a 
>> small box. Vaguely, I wondered what they contained.
>>
>>
>>
>> As we walked, I heard the whispers of the other girls. Some pressed their 
>> faces against the bars, staring as we passed. Some giggled, others 
>> glanced at me and rolled over, uninterested.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Dormire," my captor ordered, his voice cracking like a whip. I jumped. 
>> There were gasps and rustling sounds as girls rushed back to their 
>> blankets.
>>
>>
>>
>> He stopped in front of an empty cage. Unlocking it, he thrust me inside. 
>> Before departing, he removed the collar from my neck and the manacles 
>> from my wrists.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Sleep," he commanded me before slamming the door and turning the key in 
>> the lock.
>>
>>
>>
>> I stared after him as he walked away, vanishing around a corner. Seconds 
>> later, everything was plunged into darkness. Kneeling, I crawled deeper 
>> into the cage. When I reached the wall, I pressed my back against it and 
>> pulled my knees up to my chest.
>>
>>
>>
>> As I sat there, I waited for the reality of my situation to sink in. It 
>> never did. It all felt too surreal, like a bad dream I'd wake up from at 
>> any moment. I tried to weep, but found my eyes remained dry. I sighed and 
>> put my head in my hands.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Psst. Hey!"
>>
>>
>>
>> I heard a small, eager voice to my right. Lifting my head, I turned in 
>> the direction from which the whisper had come.
>>
>>
>>
>> "God?" I queried drily. I couldn't believe I was cracking jokes, but 
>> there you have it.
>>
>>
>>
>> I heard a giggle. "Sorry, he's on vacation right now," the voice said. 
>> "I'm Katie. What's your name?"
>>
>>
>>
>> "Katie," a voice hissed from a cage somewhere to my left. "Be quiet, or 
>> you'll get us all in trouble."
>>
>>
>>
>> "Oh shut up, Tara," the girl, Katie, said. "I don't remember you 
>> complaining when it was YOUR first night here."
>>
>>
>>
>> She turned her attention back to me. "So? What's your name?"
>>
>>
>>
>> "Madeleine," I said softly. I liked her. She sounded so chipper, even 
>> while lying naked in a cage. "You can call me Maddie though. Everyone 
>> does."
>>
>>
>>
>> "Maddie," she said. "I like it. Well, Maddie, you'll find your blankets 
>> in the cage box."
>>
>>
>>
>> "Thanks," I said weakly.
>>
>>
>>
>> Feeling along the wall, my hands soon came into contact with the box. It 
>> was of simple cardboard and was easy enough to open in the dark. Reaching 
>> in, I dug around for the blankets. They too were easy to find. Pulling 
>> them out, I heard something hit the straw beside me. I groped blindly, 
>> but couldn't find whatever it was.
>>
>>
>>
>> Giving it up for a lost cause, I spread the first blanket on the straw 
>> and crawled onto it. Huddling beneath the second, I wished there had been 
>> a pillow in the box.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Night, Maddie," Katie whispered sleepily from her cage.
>>
>>
>>
>> I smiled.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Goodnight, Katie."
>>
>>
>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>
>>
>>
>> I woke up to the sound of cages being unlocked and girls talking and 
>> laughing. Once more, the lights were on, and I blinked against their 
>> brightness. Rolling over, I stifled a grunt as something dug painfully 
>> into my ribs. Reaching down, I grabbed the edge of the thing and pulled 
>> it out from under me.
>>
>>
>>
>> It was you, journal. A black marble notebook, completely unremarkable, 
>> but a salvation unlike any other. The moment my mind registered what I 
>> was holding, I flung my blanket aside and scrambled to the box. After a 
>> bit of digging, I retracted my hand with a triumphant smile. In my 
>> fingers, I clutched a black ball point pen.
>>
>>
>>
>> I don't know what's in store for me here, journal, but whatever happens, 
>> I promise you'll be the first to know.
>>
>>
>> _______________________________________________
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>
>
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