I opened my eyes. Everything on my body ached but I couldn’t tell where the main source of pain was coming from. I felt like I was under a trance—a haze. I saw Derek standing there beside me with something red in his hands. My vision was blurry but from what I could tell, it was black, red, and a hint of silver where the red wasn’t. I think it was a knife but I couldn’t know for sure.
He went to my side and offered me a hand. Without even thinking, I took it. He sat me in a chair and began to wrap something around my ankles and wrists which I could only assume were ropes. He brought a full body mirror in front of me.
“Here,” he said softly, “take a look at yourself. Your life just might depend on it.”
I stared at myself for no more than a second before turning my head in disgust. I had to turn away. The thought of having to watch something so horrific that makes your stomach turn upside down and do a flip but you can’t look away or there goes your life is something that I truly dreaded. I thought about the time with my dad when we were both laughing because I was locked in the bathroom and he was locked out and neither of us knew how to unlock it so we sat there and laughed until my mom came home. I thought about all the blissful times with my mom: skipping through the meadow, painting pictures with our hands and even sometimes our faces, prank calling pizza places. Then the crash. Never knowing why it happened, I swore revenge on him. I had him right in front of me. Or should I say that he had me right in front of him? Tied to the chair and looking at something so awful that it made my stomach flip upside down.

The definition of torture is to inflict pain upon someone. The definition of beat is to strike one. This is exactly what I, Jazzabelle Scream, at the age of nine had to go through to save my own life. Every time he would beat me with a belt, I had to pretend to cry out because I knew if I didn’t, that he would resort to something even more painful, like the knife. It really only felt like a flick on the nose. It hurt, but not to the point where I would cry out in agony as if I were being branded on my inner thigh. I was spat on, kicked, punched, and called all these horrible, horrible names. Apparently, it was all because I had “gone too far this time”, yet all the pain that I had to endure was to save my own life.
Now I just walk around the place like any other average 11-year-old girl in the world. Clothed, fed, and with high-pride that something good will happen to me. Of course I still have haunting nightmares and flashbacks like an endless movie playing in my mind constantly, but that doesn’t stop me from doing “normal” things. I still go to school, live in a house, make friends. Almost as if I wasn’t declared “still missing” after being missing for what seemed like endless years. At least, that’s what the poster on the telephone pole had said about me…
I try to put what happened behind me, but every night I find myself crying because I actually said that I’d do it. I often tell myself that my life isn’t worse than anybody else’s. That it’s just as good, if not, even better. Yet, all my scars on my body have a story to them because I wanted—I needed—to save my life.
I can still remember when my dad found me walking on the highway all bloody and dress torn to nothing but shreds. Hair tattered with knots and blood clumps. Blood coming out of my wounds that had been there for way too long to even remember. Sometimes I think it was a miracle I survived. I left my dignity long-gone ago when I said “yes” to all the months of torture. “Yes” to a whole entire new life ahead of me. “Yes” to proving my worth and dignity to some stranger who I didn’t even care about! The only thing I had left was my diamond necklace and marks on me everywhere. He shone the headlights on me and told me to get in the car with him. So I did. After a while, we arrived at a hospital where I was immediately taken in and treated.
The nurses were asking me question after question and I just thought that I would pass out. I don’t think I ever actually answered them, things were so blurry that I can’t remember the hospital as well as I thought I could, but I remember that when I woke up that I was in my dad’s house. Over time he gave me some new clothes. He enrolled me into school again and treated me like he was supposed to treat me a long time ago. Before that he just made me scrub the floor with my hands bare and knees until it was perfectly spotless. I even remember when one night, I was so hungry that I dared to ask for more because he was the only one who could put food on my plate. May I please have some more, father, please? No. You will scrub every single dish and piece of silverware in this house until I can see my reflection in all of them. Yes, father. He never used to be like that—all mean and cruel. He went all crazy after my mom died and thought that his life was over, so he started to become one of those really strict fathers. Actually “strict” isn’t the right word… more like… abusive, but I never did a thing to him.
I knew exactly what I had before I gave it all up. And to be honest, I’m glad I did. The saying goes, “You never know what you have until you lose it”. Yet to me, I had nothing to lose in the first place. I was willing to risk it all because I hated my old life. Everything that I had; and you know what? It was worth it. I risked my entire life, knowing that I could’ve died and it was worth it because now my days are no longer limited. Sure I may not be the same little, innocent, obedient, little girl that I used to be; giggling as I skipped down the street, pretending to have fun with a monster who I dared call “father;” but every one of these scars have a story behind them. I try to be as normal as I can but some things just aren’t meant to be.
I can still recall when I was—let’s say—captured. Where I was captured. How I was captured. We had made a deal at the car crash after I had collapsed. Meet on the roof of the old Low-Mart. His cure, for my life. I only call it “captured” because after a while, everything started to feel like a hoax to me. Like I was just there for his entertainment. Like I had no place in life and everything I knew was fake. Yet at the same time, I knew that I wouldn’t make it out alive.

So there I was, on top of the old and abandoned building which was once called Low-Mart but because no one was going to it, it ran out of business and was forced to close down, leaving an empty lot for skaters and a roof for trades. The wind was blowing over the flat roof that was completely exposed with no cover from the cold. I shivered. Him came up behind me. The car crash was how we had first met. He rammed into the side of the car where my mom sat and killed her right on the spot. I got out of the car as quick as I could, tears running down my face too fast for my eyes to blink them away in time, and went over to his window. My body was pounding and my vision was starting to swim, but I had no other thought in my mind but to see my mom’s killer. He looked up from the wheel, his face all bloody, and just stared at me. I started to yell a bunch of mean things and then suddenly, I just collapsed right there on the spot. He got out of the car and helped me up. I knew he was injured but he must’ve brushed it off like a flick to the arm because he acted like it was nothing to him. Said something about me having “Polio” or something like that.
I turned around, my dress turning with me. I don’t know why I wore a dress, but now that I look back on it, if I had died, it would have made a beautiful shroud. Him wasn’t in a black trench coat that went down to your ankles, like most people would be in some sort of crime or action movie, but rather in a black suit with a gold tie that puffed out a little too much at the opening of his tux. His blonde hair was slicked back with gel, unlike my brunette hair that was perfectly straight, draping over my shoulders, and not even properly parted. That devilish smile as he took out the cure in a bottle and swished it around. All of that and I’ll be cured, I thought to myself when I saw it. My brown eyes met his blue eyes and we had a thousand conversations at once, just standing there in silence while the birds chirped and the cars sped by.
“You have to do whatever I say for 24 hours in order to get this precious little bottle of a cure. Anything and everything goes.” He walked forward and put the bottle away in his suit pocket. “After all, your days are limited… A cure can make them unlimited…” He looked so confident in his ability to get me to come. He was right. His utter directness could never have put me off; I was almost drunk on the idea of living to have a life.
I nodded my head in agreement. “I’ll do it,” I said gently. “I need to live. Maybe then father will actually care about me instead of making me wash the dishes and completely spotless until he can see his reflection in it.” And I was right. He treated me with the respect I deserved.
Him smiled with that sly smile of his and cackled. “You’re mine now…” His eyebrows arched to a high point that somehow made his eyes so menacing yet welcoming. To death maybe. Hard to believe that Him—a guy as stunningly handsome to other people, including me had I not known him the way I did, —would do something like torture a sweet little child like me. But everything has its first, doesn’t it?
I suddenly recall his name. Something just clicked in my mind, maybe in his movements or his face coming and making my brain realize it. I only call this man him because I can barely remember his name sometimes. It was at the crash. He had just gotten out of the car and said something about me having “Polio” or something like that. He asked for my name and I told him. Delirious I didn’t even think that he was a stranger and I shouldn’t tell him my name or anything about me. Then he said his name was Derek, I think. Let’s just call him Derek and get this done faster. Something about Derek told me he was lying but I decided to trust him anyway. He seemed like a nice guy for a good first impression. Besides, it’s not like I had much of a choice later on after I had realized his true identity…
We got off the roof and he lead me down to his car. It looked like to me that we were just another father and daughter walking down the street. Opening the white Prius door, I gagged at the smell of something rotting over years. Like rats and carcasses. He got into the car and took a deep breath in through the nose and sighed with relief. Turned the key in the ignition and drove away. I remember myself thinking: What kind of person is he? He enjoys the smell of old, stinky, rotting rats? He truly is a monster! I guess that’s a bit of a stereotype, but even if the car had smelled like roses, it would still feel like a death trap: delivering me to my death.
I looked out the window the entire time, remembering every little detail so that I could find my way back when I finally escaped. Just thinking about what he was going to do to me when we got there made me cringe. The desire to just turn around and go back home lurked in the back of my mind. I knew I was trapped there, but I had no choice.
Derek stopped at the driveway of some old, ratted-down house. It looked like it was originally a cyan-like colour because I could see patches here and there, but I assumed that over time it rotted away, leaving a mouldy, brownish-looking colour that was revolting to the eye. I got out of the car and almost fell because of my “Polio” that I apparently had. It acted up severely at times but at other times, I could walk just fine. I sat in the car until I thought it was safe to walk. Looking down at the gravel, I found that it was red instead of greyish-
white. I knew it was blood when I realized how dark it was.
I slowly got up and shrivelled. Walking on eggshells had a whole other meaning to me then. I was careful—attentive. The thought of Derek—a man as charming and searing as that—could harm others. Kill them even. But I believed it alright. He was a criminal, if not a mastermind. He was going to get in my head and make me believe the impossible.
In the middle of my deep thinking, he came over and handcuffed my left arm to his right arm and smiled. Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. Going back wasn’t an option anymore. Even if it was, he wouldn’t let me. I walked up to the porch behind him where splinters were waiting on the old and peeling spruce wood. The carpeted stairs felt like mush under my feet and my first thought was that someone had been there earlier, begging him not to drag them in, as they bled more, spilling onto the carpet. Derek opened the door, which wasn’t even locked, and made me walk in.
I gagged and almost threw up at the awful smell. It smelled almost identical to the car except four times worse. It made me wonder: how many girls had he brought here, maybe even lured here, to torture? There wasn’t much space for the living room and there was barely a kitchen but I could hardly focus on anything because of how cold and repulsive it was in the house. Smelling like ten thousand rats died on a pile of puke and old decaying bodies that have been there for six years.
Derek dragged me into a narrow hallway that had three doors. The first room was on the right. It looked like a bathroom because I saw a sink with something gruesome in it. The floor tiles looked like a four-year-old painted them with a mahogany Crayola marker. The second door was on the left and it surprisingly had almost no red. There was a bed and something else. I paused to look but he pulled me forward. The last door was at the very end of the hall. Since it was shut, it made me wonder what was behind it.
He opened the door with a key and I didn’t even have to look to know that it was a basement. The draft that came out when he swung the door opened felt like a basement to me. He flipped on a light and began to walk down the stairs. The lighting was surprisingly bright so I could actually see a lot of stuff down there. Empty shelves, broken equipment that was most likely used for torturing the innocent girls he brought down there, a few clothes lying around here and there, red… mahogany… Crayola marker… There was this one huge spot on the floor by the far side of the wall that was shimmering like it hadn’t been dried yet. My face shrivelled in pure disgust as chills ran up and down my spine continuously.
“Don’t fret, dear child. You want to live right? Better make friends while still you can down here. Say, why do you need to live anyways? What makes your life any more important than anyone else’s? Huh?”
Make friends? I remember the smirk he made as if he had read my mind. We were off the steps and he tuned to me, waiting for an answer. “I uh… I had plans… to go to college like Backhammin and get a job in marine life. A nice boyfriend, maybe even a nice husband… I want to have a life with some kind of success in it. I need to live because I want to be somebody.” I think his face lit up the slightest when I said that but it was a bit hard for my eyes to adjust so I could be mistaking.
“All my life I’ve been made fun of,” I rambled on. I was hoping to adjourn the whole 24 hours thing. “I was always the weird kid in school. Surprisingly, I wasn’t bullied too hard. Shoves, sneers, and name-calling was about it but those names, man, they really got to me. I hated that I was smart and wished I was someone else every second of my life.”
“Well then. A pity little sob story wasn’t what I asked for but whatever. That just proves your pathetic.” I wanted to say something but it felt like there was something lodged in my throat. I just stood there and listened to him go on about something that I wasn’t paying any attention to. He finally caught my attention when he took my handcuff off. I rubbed my wrist as if it had hurt me and looked up at him. He just grinned at me and let out a small chuckle. He took his handcuff off and threw it on the ground. Then he led me over to a chair where he motioned for me to sit. I quietly obeyed and sat down.
“You know it’s funny. Days like these, the cure is hard to get, or to even work for. And here I am just willing to give it away to you. For free almost…”
“Yeah? What do you want from me?” I could feel myself getting angry. He was going to get into my mind and make me believe. I had to be tough though. “Just start the 24 hours already… please.” I was desperate to get it over with so that I could go home.
“Why rush? We have all day…” He gave out a laugh at his little pun. Maybe he’s pathetic. Or maybe I was deluding myself. “And it’s so weird how we’ve come to 2054 and polio strikes again. Such a shame… Especially since it struck you. Am I not a good person for doing a good deed? Just, giving the cure to you?”
At first, I thought that was rhetorical. Then he started to stare at me, searching my face for an answer. “Yeah,” I said, “you’re not a good person. Doing one good deed doesn’t make you a good person. You’re still rotten.” At that point, I honestly believed that he was going to kill me right on the spot.
“Oh but I’ve helped so many people! You saw all the stains in the rooms. I was just helping them to a better life, that’s all.” His grin upon his face told me a thousand lies.
“No you haven’t. You killed them is what you did! That’s not helping them at all and that’s not a good deed. You’re just a monster. A monster! Rotten!” He chuckled as he pulled the ropes tighter. “How did you… How’d… Ropes?” I was so confused. He had tied me up to a chair while we were talking and I never even noticed him. That’s what aggravated me the most—that he could catch me off guard and hunt down my weakest point.
“You weren’t paying much attention were you?” he asked me with his head cocked to the left.
“No…” I muttered reluctantly. Maybe my weakest point was not paying attention because he always seemed to catch me when I was dozing off and use it against me in some way.
“Well then,” he said. I could almost sense why he wanted me there. My purpose there—if I even had one. “Escape.” The word pounced on me like a tiger to its prey.
Escape? Escape what? The ropes? “Escape what?” I asked kind of dumbly.
“The ropes. When zero finally comes, it’s game over.”

"What!” So many emotions rushed through my head like a marathon. I could barely think, even though I work best under pressure. He started to count down from 100. Think, I told myself. He tied my hands behind the chair but he left my legs untied. I still wonder why he left them untied. Did he want me to escape? Maybe.
My fingers fumbled upon the knot. It felt like a simple knot so I traced my fingers along one piece of rope and worked from there. One looped under and the other one was over. I untied it and came across the same one. It kind of felt like a triple-knotted knot.
“75… 74… 73… 72…” he continued. I wanted to slap him in the face as hard as I could. I unfolded the next knot and the next. I thought I was free until he started to tie my legs to the chair. I tried to kick him away but he was smarter than me. “40… 39… 38…”
“Stop! Why’d you tie up my legs?” I knew asking wouldn’t help anything but it was worth the shot at the moment. He just shook his head and continued on counting. Both my hands were free so I started to untie my legs. He tied them up pretty well so that I wouldn’t escape. The knots seemed impossible to figure out. One knot was tied under another and ropes where between each other. I could feel myself losing focus as I fretted for my life.
“10… 9…” I was barely done with the knots. I started to panic. Two knots were done and there was one left that I couldn’t find. He was a really fast knot-tier but I was faster at untying them. I found the knot when he said ‘six’ and was relieved that I wasn’t going to die. I untied it but only got one leg loose when he said ‘one’.
It felt like the world stopped. He said ‘one’ and the world froze around me. I heard my heart thumping, trying to escape my chest. I was in pure panic as I feared for my life. What would happen to me when he got to zero? Would I die? That’s what game over means—to die, right? I knew I had to do something but I couldn’t move at all. I was frozen in time, panicking for my life.
“Zero,” he said and I fled the chair faster than the blink of an eye. My back hit the wall and I looked down to see the leg of the chair tied to my foot. I quickly shoved it off, breathing heavily.
“There,” I said. I didn’t want to play any more games with him but I had to. A deal’s a deal.
“Well then. You’re good. You’re lucky they weren’t elastic ropes. Those are nearly impossible to get out of.” He paced back and forth in front of me and turned to me. It scared me a lot. He could’ve done anything to me and I probably wouldn’t have been able to react in time to save myself. “You don’t put up with shenanigans. Point is, let’s play a game. Kids your age love games right? Well, let’s play hide and seek. I’ll hide and you seek.”
Yeah, seek for my life, I thought. Who was this man? Who plays games as torture? There are countless things I wonder about today and this one’s surely at the top of my list.
“Count to 60 and then come to find me,” he told me. I didn’t want to play a stupid little toddler’s game but I had to. The only thing I really wanted to do was stab him and go home. “And remember: no peeking…”

I turned to the wall, eyes closed, and started to count from one. I heard footsteps shuffle away and then a loud clank. I wanted to look but it would be game over for me if I did. I heard countless grunts and a few curses that he thought I’d never hear but I did. A few bumps and eventually the minute was up. “Ready or not, here I come!” I shouted. If I was the one hiding, I would not have been ready under every circumstance in the multiverse.
The lighting was bright, so he couldn’t have gone many places. I didn’t know how big the basement was so that was a disadvantage for me. I went into the dimmer lighting and winged it from there since I could barely even see my hands. Natural instincts told me that he would be hiding in the dark; why wouldn’t he be?
I shuffled around in the darkness, trying not to bump into things. I failed at that because I had hit at least ten different things. I felt my legs stiffen a little and the only thing that I could think about was how it would be game over for me if they gave out. I decided to rest on what I thought was a shelf but wasn’t. I was panting as if I just ran a short distance.
“Tick tock, tick tock, you’re running out of time… tick, tock, tick tock, make your last moments shine…” I heard him sing. I hadn’t realized he was counting and if he was, it was in his head or something.
“Running out of time? How am I running out of time? Y-you’re not even counting!” Anger flushed throughout me. I was going to use one of those electro-shock guns on him.
“Fair enough. Ten… nine…”
Nice going, Jazz. Now you have ten seconds to find him before you die. I didn’t know what else to think at that point. He was counting down to my death and all I could do was stand there, helpless almost. I got off what I thought was a shelf and started to scurry around. I felt around for things, bumped into large objects, and even tried to run. Everything was failing. My dress had gotten stuck on something and I couldn’t get it off. I tried to listen where his voice was coming from but the sound was bouncing all around the walls and echoing back.
“Zero,” he said. I quickly put my hands over the back of my head and crouched down. I shut my eyes, gritted my teeth, and pressed my arms against my ears. I stood there for a moment until I opened my eyes, looking up. I couldn’t see him but I felt a slight draft, like a presence. He wasn’t standing there with a flashlight shining upon his chin with a smile that looked like a tiger ready to pounce. He wasn’t anywhere. At least, no where I could see.
“Game o—”
I whipped around as fast as I could, hearing my dress tear—my beautiful dress. “Ha! I found you! I found you. No game over, no dying. I finally found you. I-I’m safe.” I was trembling, not only from my legs, but the fear that was going throughout my body when I confronted him.
His face frowned. “Indeed you did. You know, you’re smart for your age. Smarter than I would’ve ever thought.” He started to encircle me. “You know; you could use those skills to hunt your prey. Get revenge on all those kids who made you feel like dirt. Make them pay for everything that they ever did to you!”
Something about his words made me feel like I had power. Even today I still think of those words, sometimes seeking for revenge. But I can never bring myself to do something like that—to follow his words.
I stood there, motionless. I couldn’t say a word. “How about we take things to the next level? You know, make things more interesting?” He put his hands together and did that weird finger thing like the villains in cartoons do when they scheme something evil. My blood turned to ice at all the thoughts that he could have in mind. Throwing darts at me while I’m on a spinning wheel? Putting me in a cage filled with venomous snakes? Teasing me with spiders? I felt like I was going to faint just thinking about all the possibilities.
“Just give me a second,” he said. He went over to one of the empty shelves and pulled out a box from underneath it. I couldn’t really see what was in the box but I know that my ears never deceive me. I heard rattling and then something unsheathe. My heart pounded faster and faster as I realized he was going to torture me with knives.

I couldn’t stabilize my heartbeat as I heard more knives unsheathe. My body was trembling from head to toe. It felt like I was going to drop dead on the spot. My legs were losing circulation and my body was getting colder. I couldn’t faint—not when he was about to use knives on me at least.
“Now then,” he said, his voice booming in my head. He walked closer to me with his hands behind his back. “Since you have some talents and I never thought I’d be doing this… let’s play… just a simple game… of catch.” His hands were brought forth and I was so close to fainting that I closed my eyes and fell.
I was barely listening, my body trembling. I felt Derek’s hands grab me and I shivered. I can’t remember how much time passed from when I almost fainted to when I was standing against the wall with knives being launched at me like cannons.
“Just catch them,” he said to me with a slight smile twitching from the corner of his lips. He threw another one at me and I obeyed. “See? It’s not that hard… Just catch.” He tossed another one at me and I lunged forward to catch it.
Unfortunately, I caught it by the blade and some blood started to dribble down my first finger. I winced in pain. “Oh my gosh.” I held my finger up to my face for closer inspection. I was scared for some reason. He just looked at me and shook his head side to side.
“Better work on those skills of yours,” he said as he walked over to grab all the knives on the floor. His eyes met mine. “I know you can work harder than that… I believe that you can work harder than that! Just catch the knife as if it were a ball… The more you cooperate, the faster the 24 hours will pass by. And then you’ll be walking—running—out of here the very next day.”
Do it, I commanded myself. You can do it—just do it already. This may be your only chance… But he’s smarter than that! Do it! You don’t really have a choice! But… Jazzabelle, you’re never going to get another opportunity than this one right here. You’re wasting time! Hurry! Okay… I raised the knife from beneath my back but he caught my arm before I could even get near his chest.
“Feisty are we? You should be more careful with these things, they can hurt. Although I can see that you’ve already figured that out when you cut your fingertip.” He shook his head. “Such a shame…”
Dang it, Jazz. You screwed up. I was angry. How many skills did he have? Was I making him angry? “Sorry…” The word lingered in the air for a moment as he stared me down with his piercing blue eyes.
“You should be,” he said, “very sorry.” He picked up the rest of the knives and shook his head again. "I'll give you another chance, considering how this one will be a lesson to you. Just, next time, be more careful of how you plan and act." With that, he walked away.
"Can't say I didn't try…" I looked up at him. "You had it coming—you deserved it."
His eyes stared down into my soul and I knew that I was in for something. "I didn't deserve anything. However, you could use some improving. You're not as smart as I thought anymore—trying to kill me when my guard was down. It's clever… but you're dealing with me here. I know better than that; you should too. Messing with the person who is trying to save your life… You should feel ashamed…"
I never let his words get to me but I felt raged. I wanted to say a million things but couldn't. They were all trapped in my throat.
"Now. Seeing how I can't trust you with sharp objects—”
"Or any objects," I added.
"What was that?" The fire in his eyes danced around like puppies chasing their tails.
"Well seeing how anything is a weapon, you might as well not trust me with anything. I mean, I could easily kill you with a shoe for all you know. Everything in here is a weapon of some sort and it could only be a matter of time until you're dead. See my point here?" I knew that I was getting somewhere with what I was saying.
He closed his eyes gently and spoke in a tone that I’ve never heard before. “However, since I cannot trust you with anything, I’ll just have to take further consideration in what I do.” He walked away and wheeled a bed to me.
What do you want me to do, sleep away the 24 hours? I almost said. That would’ve landed me in a pool of trouble. The bed wheeled closer and I saw straps. Was this bed meant for insane people? I didn’t know for sure.
“Yes. I see now that I will be more careful of how I do things. So let’s just tie you up and it’ll make everything easier.” He motioned for me to come over but I just stood there. I knew I had to move but my brain wasn’t responding to me. “Come on,” he beckoned as if I was a dog. He patted the bed. “Lay down… it’s nice…” His voice was very mellow and I could see the puppies chasing their tails in his eyes again.
“Alright.” I tried to get myself off the wall but my brain wouldn’t follow my commands. I knew how to escape. If he got mad enough, he would lash out, meaning that he wouldn’t think. Then I could easily defend myself. But he’s about 60 times stronger than I am and I’ll get killed because I have no clue as to what’s down here. “Okay.”
“Good,” he muttered. How would I get him angry though, at the wall? He waited for me to move—and I swear I couldn’t—and then he must’ve lost his patience or something because he pulled me by the wrist. His grip was so hard that it left a bruise. I yelped but it had no effect. This man, Derek, was very impatient and demanding.
He dragged me to the bed as I stumbled upon my own feet. I sat down, shot him a mean glance, and lifted my legs onto the bed. He quickly secured my ankles first and let me tell you, it hurt. The straps dug into my skin and I could feel my circulation slowly cutting off. Then my wrists were next. He yanked them into place on my forehead and strapped them tighter than my ankles. I felt a little queasy at first but I pulled through the daze. He placed another strap over my torso but didn’t pull it nearly as tight as he did my wrists.
“Very good,” he said.
“Why did you do this?” I asked him.
“Well, when bad girls like you think that you can tell me off, this is their punishment. Now, lay still for a moment. I’ll be right back…” I watched him walk and come back with a mask.
“What…? A mask?” I threw my head side to side and wasted all my strength to get the ropes—that I knew would never come off—free. The mask came closer to me, attached to a thin tank of some sort. I knew what it was—anaesthesia
He put it over my mouth but I turned my head again. He forcefully grabbed my chin and held it in place right where I could stare him down (I would have looked ridiculous doing so). The mask went over and I tried to hold my breath but ultimately failed. I ended up taking a gaping breath in. I knew that I was never going to win that fight as my eyelids started to get as heavy as anvils. I soon closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for the what I thought was the end of my life.

I
opened my eyes. Everything on my body ached but I couldn’t tell where the main source of pain was coming from. I felt like I was under a trance—a haze. I saw Derek standing there beside me with something red in his hands. My vision was blurry but from what I could tell, it was black, red, and a hint of silver where the red wasn’t. I think it was a knife but I couldn’t know for sure.
He went to my side and offered me a hand. Without even thinking, I took it. He sat me in a chair and began to wrap something around my ankles and wrists which I could only assume were ropes. He brought a full body mirror in front of me.
“Here,” he said softly, “take a look at yourself. Your life just might depend on it.”

I stared at myself for no more than a second before turning my head in disgust. I had to turn away. The thought of having to watch something so horrific that makes your stomach turn upside down and do a flip but you can’t look away or there goes your life is something that I truly dreaded. I thought about the time with my dad when we were both laughing because I was locked in the bathroom and he was locked out and neither of us knew how to unlock it so we sat there and laughed until my mom came home. I thought about all the blissful times with my mom: skipping through the meadow, painting pictures with our hands and even sometimes our faces, prank calling pizza places. Then the crash. Never knowing why it happened, I swore revenge on him. I had him right in front of me. Or should I say that he had me right in front of him? Tied to the chair and looking at something so awful that it made my stomach flip upside down.
Carvings. Everywhere on my arms. They didn’t look deep but they looked like it took him about two hours to do. Some of them were still bleeding but nothing major. How much blood had I lost? Was I going to die? How much time had passed?
“Like it? Took me forever to do…” he said, proud of what he had done to my body. “Don’t look away…” He tuned my head towards the mirror and I opened my eyes.
“How long did it take you to do this?” My words were almost slurred together.
“About… I don’t know… 2 hours—give or take…”
His smile told the devil’s story.
“How long do I have left?”
“Of your 24 hours? About 19 or 18. Why? Don’t you want to stay a bit longer?”
“I wanna get out…” My head felt like it weighed a ton. I looked in the mirror for a long, long time. My face was left unharmed but the rest of me had carvings everywhere. On my left arm he carved “Derek” in huge letters. “24” was also carved up and down it. On my right arm, he had a carving of a flower with a stem and thorns. Maybe a rose. The blood around it made it look prettier but it still hurt. I still wonder why he carved a flower instead of something awful.
Wait, it’s a reminder. When we were on the roof, I was twirling a flower in my hand. A rose to be exact. I let it drop off the side when we were leaving.
Great. Now people will be wondering why I have the word “Derek” and “24” carved into my skin. I didn’t need any more trouble in school. Being called a “freak” and “worthless” was enough as it was. Just great…
“You don’t like it?” he asked me with a what-was-supposed-to-be-cute pouty face.
I couldn’t reply. My eyelids were getting heavy again. He snapped his right fingers loudly in front of my face. “Hey, stay awake!” he barked at me. My eyes shot open and I shook my head to wake me up a bit more. I didn’t know if I could stay awake any longer. I didn’t know if I could do it for another 19 hours. My arms throbbed and I could hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears. I knew I had a headache, maybe even the beginning of a migraine, but didn’t dare say anything to him.
I couldn’t help myself anymore. I let my eyelids close and I fell asleep.
When I woke up, Derek was hovering above me, arms on his hips and foot tapping. “Well it’s about time you woke up. You wasted ten hours, you pig! I told you not to fall asleep!” He raised his hand as if he was going to strike me but didn’t. Instead he balled up his hand and muttered something to his self. “I knew I should’ve used the Taser Gun!” His complaining went on and on.
“You were going to use a Taser Gun me to wake me up?” I felt another wave of anger and thought that I maybe had anger problems.
“Well yes! There are other things that I need to be doing than watching you sleep all day long!” He exhaled sharply with his fingers rubbing his temple. “Great. Just great. Now I only have nine hours. Don’t fall asleep! How hard is that to understand?”
“Well maybe if you hadn’t given me so much of that knock-out stuff, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep!”
“It’s anaesthesia and I—”
“How about I don’t care?” The puppies were back in his eyes again. He let out a laugh and once again, I was in for something.
“I don’t care about anything you have to say. I’m in control here. And you will do as I say. Capisce?”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Whatever,” I told him. My plan of making him angry was back in action. I had a strong feeling that it was going to work that time. “You’re the boss. What shall I do?”
“I’ll make the orders around here, thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome very much.” I smiled at him.
“Okay then. Change of plans. Big change of plans.” He walked off and came back with a knife. “Since you like smarting me off, we can put that to use. Every time you decide to say something smart of yours, you’ll get another carving into your leg. Seeing how you’re already ugly… well, why not add to the collection, am I right?” He swung the knife below my chin.
So many things were piling up in my mind but I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—dare to speak. For a split second I wanted to lunge forward into the knife but I knew that I’d have to pay for it later. Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t feel. I kept telling myself over and over again. You’ll pay. I’ll make you pay!
I wasn’t really sure what to do at that point. Some part of me told me to make him pay, the other part didn’t. I was battling myself and to be frank, I didn’t know if I was going to win. Every part of me wanted to make him suffer, not me. To put him in my place and have him endure all that torture. But even now, I still find myself cowering in fear.
“You will answer me!” He yanked me out of the daze I was in and pushed the knife into my arm. It hurt, but it wasn’t a deep cut.
“What was the question? I-I wasn’t paying attention! Well I mean I was, but I—”
“I know…” he interrupted. “Every time you want to say something smart of yours, your ugly little legs will get more carvings into them. Seeing how you’re already ugly enough as it is… well, why not add to the collection am I right?”
Don’t do it, Jazz. Don’t you even dare. But if I don’t, then he’ll just—don’t do it! “That’s not very nice,” I retorted. Stop! You’re going to get into too much trouble… “And honestly, it’s only to your perspective that I am ugly.” He is going to kill you. Stop!
He dug the knife into my leg and started to carve something. I tried to see but he was in the way of the mirror. I squirmed and squirmed, the ropes around me restraining me from even moving an inch, but he just kept carving. It hurt so much and before I even realized it, I had kicked him right in the face.
No… I’m so sorry, I wanted to say. There wasn’t a point in even breathing at that moment. I knew that I was going to pay for that, one way or the other, and it wouldn’t be pretty. “I… I…” I faltered at the words. All of my thoughts felt like they were in a dryer machine on high, crashing into each other. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t say the right words, couldn’t even do anything but sit there, dazed and petrified. “I’m s—I”
“ENOUGH!” he roared, loud enough to be heard all the way in Africa. “Enough. You’ve made me angry now. You’ve crossed the line.” He was on the ground, panting like he just ran in a race. Blood was dripping from his nose, forming a little puddle below him. He didn’t bother to plug it with his fingers or anything; he just let it fall onto the ground.
“Please I just—”
“You’ve crossed. The line.” The words rang in my ears. It was the only thing I heard for what seemed like endless hours but was only a few second.
Please. Please. I just… I didn’t… Please… I could feel tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know if he was going to strike me or do anything to me. I tried to talk but the words just piled up in my throat. Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t feel.

He was still on the floor, on all fours, a pool of blood below him from his nostril. It had slowed down after roughly two minutes and at first I thought it was a lot of blood, but the more I looked at it, it was barely anything. He got up slowly and wiped his nose. The blood ceased.
“I don’t know what on the Earth makes you think that you can get away with something like that, but mark my words, you will pay for that!” I could see the veins pop out on his face and fear went all throughout my body. I never used to be that afraid of him until that very moment.
“I—” I couldn’t even be heard, not even by myself. The tears came down faster than I could wipe them away with my shoulder. My vision started to get blurry. “I—”
“You will pay for this.” He inched closer to me. “Stop crying!” he yelled. I jumped out of my seat a little. Flashes of my future started to fill my head. I tried to shake them away but one really stuck out at me.
I’m sitting in a chair, in the dark, with a shock collar digging into my neck, blocking my airway. Whenever he asks me a question, I have to get it right in under ten seconds or else I get shocked.
I shook my head, trying to get rid of the terrible vision but it just wouldn’t go away. My crying began to ease up a little. I sniffled a few times and let out a huge sigh. Looking around, I started to see things that weren’t normal. I thought that they were just visions—maybe even hallucinations! —from the anaesthesia that he gave me, but it felt like they were completely real, as if I were actually there.
I started to see the other victims that he pulled down there to torture. A girl with black hair that had been cut in various lengths all choppy, with the scissors in her hand. She was balled up in the corner crying. I looked to the other side of the room. A blond girl with red all throughout her hair in clumps—kind of like mine. She was trying to escape up the stairs but Derek caught her and pulled her back down. I looked over again. Another girl with dark hair, tied to a chair with tape over her mouth. Her face was all red from her crying and her muffled screams echoed in my ears. I wanted to just reach out and help them but I couldn’t.
“I said to stop crying,” he told me again and I stopped. It wasn’t about making him angry anymore; it was about figuring out how to escape. He probably locked the door while I was sleeping or set security alarm systems everywhere. I didn’t know.
“I—”
“Let’s play a game. It’s kind of like a trivia game. I’ll ask the questions, you answer them. Get one wrong… Well let’s just say that the consequences won’t be nice.” He chuckled and walked off. When he came back, he was rolling a cart with a red, carpet-looking roll.
He unrolled it. It was filled with all these torture devices. A Taser Gun. An electro-shock gun—which is not the same as a Taser Gun because only Taser Guns can shoot bolts of energy from far distances. Elastic rope. A double-bladed knife. There was even one that I couldn’t even begin to describe. They all looked like they were chanting my name over and over again.
I gulped. “So what are the questions about?” I asked him in a whisper.
“Oh, just random things.” He picked up the double-bladed knife and studied it like it was the rarest thing on Earth. “Question one: What is my name?”
That’s almost too easy. “Derek,” I said.
“Correct. Question two: How many continents were there in 2012?”
Wait, what kind of question is that even supposed to be? I don’t know… We have eight now… “Six?”
“Wrong.” I flinched back a little. I couldn’t help but wonder which of the torture devices he was going to use on me. He twirled the knife in his hand again. As he sighed, he put it back onto the carpet and went off to go get something. He came back with a blindfold.
“Wait…” I whispered.
“Let’s make things a bit easier… for me…” Derek tied on a blindfold and tied it way too tight. It was dark, everywhere, and I didn’t like it at all. I could feel my eyes sinking into my sockets. I tried my best but I couldn’t hear him. When my eyes are closed, I always depend on my ears.
I felt something cold on my leg. Figures it was my leg because he had called it “ugly” … The point felt like a knife and I knew he was going to carve something into me. Maybe a masterpiece of his own or his name again. I didn’t want to think of all the possibilities but I couldn’t shut them off.
Then another flash. I saw a glimpse of a blond girl tied up with her hands behind her back and her ankles laying to her side. There was a red bandanna in her mouth and it looked like she had been crying for a good while. Then it faded away and was gone.
“Stop…” I pleaded. I could feel the stinging getting increasingly worse. Like he was setting fire to my bones from inside of me.
“And… Done!” he said, cheerfully. I panted. It felt like my leg was swelling but I couldn’t tell for sure. I could feel the throbbing to the beat of my heart. “I’m going to keep the blindfold on for a little bit more… It makes things more interesting…”
Why…? I never did anything to you… Maybe… I couldn’t think of anything. My headache was pounding. It eventually got so bad that I blacked out.

Water, everywhere surrounding me. I kicked for the surface but I just stayed in place, completely helpless. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I took a huge breath in and saw all white. Then a little, faint red speck appeared. As it grew bigger, the face of the devil appeared. His foot hit my face and I fell into the fiery pits of the Underworld.
Something told me he drugged me. Why else would I have had that headache? He probably did it with that double-bladed knife. Poison on it probably…
I awoke with a startle, shivering, cold and drenched in water. Yet I could see; the blindfold was finally off.
“Wake up!” he yelled at me. His voice had an edge that stabbed like knives.
I shook my head and the headache came back. “Food…” I groaned.
“Oh, so you’re hungry are you? Shoot… I always forget to feed them…” Forget to feed them? What does he mean? “I suppose I could get you something to eat… Stay right here.” He walked up the stairs, opened the door, and slammed it behind him.
I couldn’t move my body. As much as I tried, my head pounded, my stomach ached, my throat burned, and my leg throbbed to my pulse. I had thoughts that I was going to die. That the way I would die is just sitting on a chair, aching.
He came back down with a plate and something that looked like slop on it. I couldn’t tell at all what it was. “Here.” He handed me the brown-looking slop and a glass of water. It smelled like meat but there was no telling for sure.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice all raspy like I had just swallowed nails. I decided to take a drink of water to soothe my throat. The second it filled my mouth, I knew something was off about it. The thing tasted like straight up chemicals. Sadly, I was too thirsty to even care. I gulped the whole thing down and stared at the brown slop. There wasn’t any silverware so I had to use my bare hands. I didn’t notice how bad I was shaking until I picked up a little chunk and attempted to put it in my mouth. It tasted so weird, yet I couldn’t get enough of it. At that point I didn’t care if it was doused in poison, I was starving.
“Like it?” he asked me, bringing me out of the little trance I had been in.
I nodded my head and stared at him with beady eyes. It’s so good, thank you, I didn’t say because I feared he would give me more and more and then I’d explode because it was covered in poison after all.
“Good. It’s ground up beef with a touch of raw venison.”
I almost gagged. That is truly disgusting. “Thank you,” I whispered again, though he probably didn’t hear me that time. Still, I continued to eat it as if it were my favourite candy.
He took the plate away from me and like an animal, I lunged forward to grab it. What had happened to me? “Our game of trivia still isn’t over…”
“No…” I groaned. I didn’t want to answer any more questions. It was getting boring and I still couldn’t feel the nerves in my leg. “Don’t wanna…”
“Too bad.” He put the blindfold back on me. “How about, instead of trivia, we play Simon Says? That seems more fun than stupid old trivia…” I could feel his grimacing smile through my skin and in my bones. I shivered.
“Fine,” I managed to croak out. I was so thirsty.
“Simon says stand up.”
I tried to stand up but my leg ached, my head pounded, and the smell of ammonia crept up my nose. It felt like I was moving in wet cement and my body was Jell-O.
“Simon says stand up!”
“Ropes,” I moaned.
“Ugh…” I heard his footsteps shuffling to the back of my chair. A few seconds later I felt the ropes glide off my arms and land in a pile around my ankles. I slowly kicked them off.
“Okay…” I gripped the arms of the chair and with just about all of my force, and stood up. My legs were shaking uncontrollably and my hands trembled.
“Simon says… jump up and down.”
I jumped once and it felt like I was weightless, but when I came back down it was like I was in the cement again. Reluctantly, I continued to jump.
“Stop.” I stopped. Only after I stopped, I realized that he never said: “Simon says”. I quickly continued to jump, thinking he wouldn’t notice that I had stopped, but he put his ice-cold hand on my shoulder, sending waves of pain throughout my arm and down my spine. “Nope. Wrong.”
No. Not the blade. Instead of the blade, I heard a huge crack and felt pain everywhere in my leg. It was a belt—leather. I screamed in pain. It wasn’t a baby hit; it was a vile hit that stun like a thousand wasps all at once.
“Simon says be quiet for the rest of the game or he will beat you.” I winced back. “Now, Simon says take this knife and carve a Ghost Orchid into yourself and do it right or I make you do it again until you do get it right.”
I took the knife and studied it. “What if I never get it right and run out of skin?”
“Then it’s game over.”
“What’s a Ghost Orchid?”
“Hold on…” he said. He walked off and got a wilting—no, not even wilting, it was far beyond dead—flower. “This.” He dropped it at my feet.
How am I ever going to do this? I’m going to die! I looked down at the flower and then back up at him. “How am I supposed to carve this? I’ll die!”
“Then you better try hard.” A smile crept upon his face and from that moment onward, I knew he was a maniac.
Okay Jazz. You can do this. You just have to imagine what it would look like if it wasn’t dead. That shouldn’t be too hard right? Just… press… I plunged the knife into my arm. I winced as I saw blood come out fast. I continued and made the stem. I looked at the flower once more and picked it up.
It kind of looked like a stick-figure trying to swim with an oval head and four arms that reached for the surface. I started to carve the rest of it. When I showed it to him, he shook his head and told me to redo it.
“What? But that’s how it looks!” Blood dribbled down my arm onto my lap.
“Nope. Simon says try again. This time, with more precision”
I sighed. I would definitely run out of skin. Hesitantly, I picked up the knife and began to carve again, right above the previous one that was still fresh. When I was done, I showed it to him again. I thought it looked better, but I didn’t know about him.
Fortunately, to my surprise, he said it looked like a Ghost Orchid. I was way too surprised to even do anything but sit there, wide-eyed and smile that I was still alive and that I still had the majority of my skin
“Great. Simon says…” He looked around the room with his hand on his chin.
“I’m bored,” I interrupted. I mentally face palmed. Jazz… why would you say that? Now he’s going to make you do a cartwheel off the Eiffel Tower or something! “And I need to use the bathroom.”
“It’s over there.” The tone in his voice made him sound like Ebenezer Scrooge from long ago. He pointed to a wooden door that I didn’t see when I first came in. I walked over to the door, my legs still shaking uncontrollably. When I opened the door, another flash came.
A girl with bright blue hair—almost like a wig—all tied up and regurgitating blood. She winced in pain and cried out or me to help but I just couldn’t. I shook the image away and shut the door behind me, leaving me in pitch darkness. I finally found the toilet.
When I was done, I found there was no toilet paper or sink. Now that, was truly repulsive. I walked out. Derek was standing there with his arms folded while he talked on the phone.
“Yeah I’ll do that… As soon as I finish her up. Okay. Bye.” He got off the phone and motioned for me to come over with a huge smile on his face. “Simon says come over.”
Warily, I walked over. “What?” I asked in a rude manner. His smile faded and I heard another crack with another wave of pain crashing throughout my leg. I winced back in pain, tears spilling out.
“Good. Maybe that’ll teach you. Simon says run in place.” I did as he said. After about 30 seconds, his watch beeped. “Simon says stop. You’re 24 hours are up.”
Oh my gosh! Jazz, you did it! You’re FREE! Free from all this nonsense and torture! “Oh my gosh! Are you serious? I can’t believe it! I’m free!” Excitement jolted throughout my body.
“Sadly, you’ve crossed the line… You’re staying here, Sweet-cheeks.”
My joy faded as quick as it came. “What? No, you can’t do that! We made a deal! I did everything you said—EVERYTHING!” I felt my face getting puffy and it wasn’t long before the tears staring going down my face.
“Nope. You crossed the line. This is your consequence. You’re my little slave now.” A grimacing smile crept upon his face and I cried even more. “Simon says stop crying!” he hollered at me. I couldn’t stop. No matter how hard I tried, they just kept coming.
Only moments later he struck me, and there were waves of pain crashing throughout my cheek. I put my hand to my face and began wondering how long I would stay there. How long he would keep me imprisoned in this place he dared to even call a house! I just wanted to go home. I didn’t even care if my father smacked me senseless, I just wanted to be somewhere other than there.
He raised his hand again and I commanded myself with all my will to stop crying. He put his hand down and muttered curses at the floor. He looked at me.
“Please…” I whispered. “Please stop hurting me…”
“Simon says be quiet.” He paused, as if unsure what to say. “You know what? Simon says try to escape. Fail and it’ll be game over.”
He probably wants a show or something. “How long do I have?” I asked him with a puzzled face.
“As long as it takes. If it takes two years to escape, then it’s fine by me. If it takes two hours to escape, then it’s fine by me.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Does it look like I’m kidding? I want to know what goes on inside your brain when you’re in danger. What you do in a moment of panic. How you react when danger lies ahead. I want to see what you’re made of.”
“Fine.” I knew I couldn’t escape. I would be trapped there forever. Yet here I am, telling you this story of how I barely made it out alive.
“Good luck,” he told me. I thought that I was going to die. I longed for that moment so bad… so bad… and it came true. Then I heard the sound of a crack and everything in my world went black dark again. I was doomed forever.

A girl. Flawless sandy blonde hair. Pitch blue eyes with a thin green ring around the pupil. Blue eyeshadow and blue eyeliner that enclosed into the perfect cat’s eye. Yet somehow, her clothes were all bloody. A beautiful bright pink dress with white roses on the bottom and golden tights, ruined. Her hand reached out for mine and I grabbed it. Warmth went up my arm. Was I hallucinating or was it all real? I didn’t know.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“That’s not important. What’s important is that I get you out of here. Come with me. I know this place inside and out.” Her voice was soothing and welcoming, almost like some kind of trap.
“Please tell me who you are.”
“Well, some say that I’m their guardian angel. Others say I’m just some figment of their imagination—a hallucination. Some say I’m their best friends and others… well, let’s just say that other brush me aside as a nobody. They forget about me or want nothing to do with me. I’m whatever you think I am, really.”
“You’re my friend,” I said to her.
“Thanks. Here.” She dug in her pocket for something and when she unfolded her hand, a diamond necklace came out. “It’s real. Take it and remember me. It will help you defend yourself from evil. Besides, whenever you’re in trouble, I’ll sense it and come to your aid, but only if I think you can’t handle it.”
“I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you!” She took the necklace and placed it on me. I turned around to face her. “Are you real?”
“That’s up to you to decide.” She gave me a warm smile before her face lit up like a lightbulb. “Say, do you want to see something cool?"
"Yeah."
"Watch this." We were by the mirror. My reflection showed but hers… it didn’t show at all. The same mirror that I looked in to find all the carvings on my body. I took one short glimpse of myself before the entire thing shattered. I don't mean like when you drop it and huge pieces shatter while the inside is cracked, I mean the entire thing—from top to bottom—completely disappeared into micro-bits.
"How'd you do that?" I asked her in awe.
"I just touched it. Anyways, it's not important. Here, follow me." She led me to the back of the stairs. Derek was nowhere to be seen which was a bit worrying considering that he could jump out and kill me at any given moment.
“Look,” she told me. I followed her finger to a rusty crowbar that looked like it had been there for years. “Use it to hit him when his guard is down.”
“How do I know when his guard is down?”
“Trust me, you’ll know.” We heard the door open and Derek walked down the stairs. “Sorry,” she said in a hushed whisper, “I have to go.”
“Wait but…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. She vanished without a single trace left of her. No pixie dust like how you see in the movies, no momentum, nothing. I longed to pick up the crowbar and just whack him in the head as hard as I could but alas, I couldn’t. His guard had to be down and as far as I was concerned, it was always up. It was probably up even when he was sleeping!
“Who were you talking to?” I jumped. How long had he been standing there?
“Nothing. No one. I mean someone but no one. I mean…” He raised an eyebrow at me. I was the world’s worst liar.
“Okay…” he said as he turned around to go do something else. Something told me that I was going to be stuck down there for quite a while before I could finally escape.

I gripped the crowbar tighter as I eyed my target, not even caring that it dug into my skin. I was standing a meter away from him and I was almost 100% sure that my breathing would give me away. I knew I was scared but I didn’t want him to see me and give him the advantage of seeing me the way I was. Trembling from head to toe, vision starting to swim by the slightest, breathing very shallow and fast. He was sitting in a lounge chair, facing away from me, reading a magazine, and sipping some kind of bluish-greenish liquid. It would have looked like he was on vacation if he wasn’t in a stinky basement filled with unknown creatures from the Underworld. I mean, not necessarily “creatures” but rather girls…
I crept lighter than a mouse—backtracking a little when my steps became heavy—all the way until I was to the back of his head. My heartbeat was pounding inside my chest like a bass drum; erratic. I did a few practice swings, making sure that I was accurate enough to hit him so that he would be knocked out and not just annoy him, and then I struck.
To my surprise, he caught it. His hand had flown up at the last second without looking. I was so astonished that I backed away with the crowbar and ran to the back of the stairs where I sat and planned my next attempt.
I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I had to try somehow. I never thought that he was some kind of government agent type of person who can literally see out of the back of their head and detect an intruder! I never expected it at all. He’s too good…
Just sitting there and trying to come up with a plan on how to take him out was sending shivers down my spine. He was too good. That’s why all those other girls died. And he’s never been caught by the police because he’s too fast and clever for them to even find a single trace of him! So I just sat there, fearing for my life.
A few minutes later he came over and looked down at me. “You have to try way harder than that if you want to escape,” he told me. With that, I sat for continuous days without food (I drank water though and used the bathroom too), devising what I thought was the perfect plan to take Derek out and escape.

In all honesty, I’m not very sure how many attempts I had tried in all. I just know that there are around five or six major attempts that I thought were good enough to escape but ended up in a complete failure.
So there I was, sitting under the rickety staircase again where I often plotted different ways to try to kill Derek. In only a short amount of time, I had turned almost as bad as he was. Almost.
It had been about four or five days since my first attempt and I was slowly running out of ideas. Then the idea of just plain out running to freedom came to me. I didn’t see Derek so I crept around my hiding space and tiptoed up the stairs, careful not even to breathe.
There, at the very top of the stairs, Derek stared down at me. His eyes glaring at me as if they were trying to rip out my soul. I gulped and stared him straight in the eye. Then I turned back around and went down the stairs to plot again. Boy, how I ever wanted to just smack him and hit him until he surrendered and let me out.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried this method of escaping before. Once I got so close that I actually reach the top step. Then Derek grabbed my leg from behind and I fell. After the fact, I was left with blood and bruises all down my shins. I limped back down to the bottom of the stairs
Another time, I had made it to the second step from the top, when Derek caught my leg. I had grabbed the door knob and turned it halfway before he yanked me back and made me lose my grip. My knee fell down a step while Derek grabbed the left one. My legs went under the staircase where I hanged onto the stairs above me for support. He pulled harder but I wouldn’t let him best me.
The last time I ever attempted it was when I thought he wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t even on the steps when he put me in a chokehold and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. I swear I could smell beer in his breath as he did it. When he let go of me, I gasped for air, ignoring the fact that it still wreaked, and cried. I was never going to make it out of there with all of his tricks.

I've been told too many times to count that the third time is always the charm. Sadly, that wasn’t the case when I tried to break out to freedom the third time. Although it was a good try in my opinion, the universe said, “No. Your plan won’t work and you will suffer here forever. Mwah ha ha!”
My friend appeared again. “Is that all you’re made of?” she asked me. “You have to show him what you’re really made of. That you have gut! Come on! Look. I know you feel like it’s hopeless and that you can’t do it but believe me you can! I know you can. And here, I’ll give you a hint. The cure is always in his inner coat pocket. Get it and you have nothing to lose. Now go!” She vanished again.
If it’s in his pocket… how do I get him unconscious? I’m so screwed… No. Think positively. You can do this, Jazz. Just believe. You don’t want to be stuck here for the rest of your life, do you? No! Then go get ‘em!
“Here’s your food,” he told me as he set it down. It was the same brown slop that he always fed me. Without even thinking, I picked up the crowbar and smacked his ankle with it. I heard a faint crack and saw him go down as blood quickly spilled out. He screamed—a quite manly scream—and sat up to look at it. He rolled up is pant leg. There was an indent and a thick flow of blood where I had hit him. It was pretty deep considering it was right above his ankle bone.
I stuffed the slop quickly into my mouth and swallowed for the fear that he was going to take it away from me.
“Why would you do that?!” he yelled. “You little twerp!” He grabbed my shirt and we were face to face. I hit the ground with a hard thud as I realized he threw me. I looked up and time froze. His hand ready to strike. His face all crumpled with disgust. My face all red. Then the present hit me and I shut my eyes. Only moments later I was lying on the floor, face down, crying, with blood running down my face and a few other places.
I didn’t like pain. Especially not that much of it. Everything in my body ached, my head the most. He must’ve meant to teach me a lesson or something but it didn’t work. It only caused more anger to build up for when I did have the perfect plan. Then I could use all my force against him and walk off with the cure, ready to go home.
Sure I regretted what I did—barely—but I was taking mental notes on his weaknesses. One of them was turning his back on me. Not really a true weakness but at that moment, I was desperate to get any information I could get my hands on.

I waited for weeks before my wounds finally healed up and my headache was merely just a tap on the shoulder. I had put him in crutches from the last stunt I had pulled. I could tell he was mad at me for it because he started to serve me less and less food as if I wouldn’t notice what was going on.
Over the course of my healing, I found a boarded up window with the help of my friend. There was a time where I thought she was just messing around with me and trying to make me look like a fool, but there really was a window there. It was really high up, almost to the ceiling. We both thought that Derek must’ve boarded it up so that none of his victims could escape. So that they would be imprisoned there forever, under his every command.
I studied how to break open that window for hours. Countless attempts were also made but were all a fail. So, I finally resorted to simplest plan I had: breaking it open with the crowbar.
When he wasn’t downstairs watching me like a hawk stalking its prey, I knew I had a limited amount of time to put my escape plan in action. I would run out to freedom and hopefully he wouldn’t track me back down. Then it would be game over.
As I pried the boards off with my bare hands, I stood on top of multiple useless item that surprisingly made a good tower. Then when I could see the actual window itself—with glass as thick as the tusk of a mammoth—I hit it with my crowbar. The wood planks fell helplessly to the ground while the glass shattered in tiny specks. I had a few itsy-bitsy scrapes but they were nothing compared to the other things I had already suffered through.
When the glass was all gone out of the window and in pieces on the floor, I tried to climb through it. Sadly, no matter how many different ways I tried to wiggle through, I always ended up being too big for such a small hole.
Then when I thought I got it, he came walking down the stairs, only to see me half out the window. Without hesitation, I got out of the window and stared at him. He went over and kicked an object out of the tower with his crutch. I soon found myself screaming hands first into the floor.
When I woke up, a bunch of item were on top of me and the crowbar was through one of my fingers, even though I couldn’t feel it. The window was boarded back up again. I noticed another two of his weaknesses: leaving me alone for more than a minute, and getting angry.
I sat up and pulled the crowbar out as fast as I could, not wanting to cause myself any more pain than what I was already in. After that, I felt around for any more bruises or cuts and found very little. No major bleeding was a good thing. It meant I could still survive and make it out of that prison alive. The only catch was trying to get past him.

I haven’t had food in about two days. I had been down there for almost seven or eight, maybe even nine months! I hadn’t been keeping track of the days like you would normally see in every prison movie ever made. I had just been kind of counting in my head. Roughly 280 days.
He was sitting on that stupid lounge chair again. Only instead of reading a magazine, sipping that blue-green liquid, he was listening to music with his leg propped up on a pillow, sipping water. I knew I wasn’t going to die there. I was just about to try to knock Derek out again when my friend gave me another helpful visit.
“Be careful,” she told me, “when you’re striking. He can sense anything from a mile away. He’s very talented. Remember what I said a long time ago. You always have to strike him when he’s off guard. As a matter of fact, it’s down right now. Go!”
I hesitated. Was his guard really down or was she just trying to fool me? I looked at her and lowered the crowbar to my side. I searched her face for any answer that told me she wasn’t lying to me.
That’s when I saw it. It was like I could literally see straight through her and into her past. She was sitting there under the stairs with Derek holding the crowbar above his head. He was muttering something about how she had ‘Gone too far.’ She pleaded for him to stop but he just raised it higher. I reached out to grab her and energy flowed everywhere in my body. The vision became even stronger than before. I could notice every little detail and the expression on her face. Pure 100% fear. She screamed as the crowbar came down, impacting on her head and leaving a mess. I reached further and further, almost touching her, tears going down my face. Pictures started to flash like a montage all throughout my mind. I took my hand back.
“Are you okay?” she asked me with a concerned look on her face.
“You… you…” I couldn’t find the words to describe what I had just saw. That vision was so vivid, like I had actually been there, standing right next to her.
“Look,” she told me, “whatever you just saw, forget it. Right now you have to hit him. His guard is down and you might never get another chance like this one right here. Now go!”
She shoved me forward. A huge pulse of energy flowed through me in what seemed like a millisecond. As I neared him, I struck as hard as I could. Instead of blocking it, he let it hit him. His head slumped to the side and I dropped the crowbar to see if I had accidentally killed him. I checked his pulse and felt that he was still breathing.
“Take the cure inside of his coat pocket. It’s on the inside near the top left.” Instead of vanishing, she just stayed there.
I dug inside his coat pocket for the little tube of cure and found it exactly where she said it had been. “This?” I asked her.
“Perfect. Now, you have to inject yourself with the needle from his right pocket.” I found it and showed her. “Good. You know how to do it right?” I nodded. I put the needle through the little gel top and filled the needle all the way to the top.
I stared at it, trying to recall my anatomy knowledge; where all the veins were. I quickly jabbed myself through the leg. I took the rest of the medicine and jabbed it through my opposite leg. I thought that it would go through a bit faster through a main artery.
Sadly, I had to wait for the effect to kick in before I even walked another foot.

Derek was well gone. He had no pulse when I checked him a few hours later because a nine-year-old girl had killed him. Jazzabelle Scream had murdered a man who not even the police could catch. But on the bright side, my legs felt a lot better. I twirled the diamond necklace that was still around my neck and looked over at my friend. She never left my side throughout all the hours.
I ran my fingers over the carvings that had turned to scars. The rose was the only thing that looked pretty. Everything else just made me look like a total freak. I let out a heavy sigh and looked towards my friend.
“His pocket,” she finally said after the endless minutes of silence. “His pants pocket has the keys to the basement and the car.”
I looked at her with a gentile smile and just couldn’t hold back the question any longer. “Why are you helping me? I mean, what’s so special about me that you feel the need to help me kill Derek and escape this prison? Don’t get me wrong, I admire the help. But just, why are you helping me?”
“Well, in all honesty, it’s because I never escaped in time… I wanted to give you and every girl before you, an opportunity to try to escape his wrath. And you’ve finally done it.”
“Wow…” I stood there for a moment remembering the vision before getting the keys out of his pocket. Tears started to form but I never knew why. Was it because I had just killed him? Or were they tears of joy because I was finally free?
She put her hand on my shoulder. I instantly felt better, as if I had just drank a gallon of Carbo’s Pure Sugar. “Please, don’t cry. Look at how far you’ve come. I’ve watched you the whole entire time and through all the torture, you’re the bravest girl I’ve ever seen. You have the audacity to stand up to him and speak your mind. I’ve never seen any girl like you before.” I smiled as she gave me a hug. A warm glow radiated throughout my whole entire body and I let a few tears slip.
“Thank you. Now, let’s get out of here.” I ran up the stairs and drew a deep breath as I unlocked the door and turned the handle. The house was exactly the same as it was before. I walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light.
“That was Hanna,” said my best friend. “I tried to tell her that it was a trap but she wouldn’t listen to me. ‘You’re just a stupid nobody,’ she told me.”
I was speechless. I went over to the mirror, disregarding the incident that had happened in the sink, and looked at myself. What I saw wasn’t myself. It was a girl who had no dignity, no self-respect. Clotted almost-black-hair made out of blood. Caked blood everywhere on my face. Scars from too long ago. A torn up dress—a rag almost. The only thing that was really left was the diamond necklace. It stood out almost too perfectly.
I looked over at the bathtub. I needed to be cleaned up badly but I wouldn’t dare even touch the knobs. The bathtub was spotless and glimmering like it had just been filled with water. I turned away from it.
I left the bathroom and unlocked the front door, feeling the air hit my face. Gasping for air as if it were going extinct. Coughing up all the horrible scents of the house. My friend stood behind me, still in the doorway, looking sad.
“Come on,” I told her. “Why are you just standing there? We’re free!”
“I can’t leave the house.” She looked at the ground where he feet were and then back up at me. “I’ve been trapped here for years. Never been able to even stick a finger out of the house.” She put her hands out and an invisible force pushed back on her, forcing her to stay within the premises of the house
Once again, I was left with nothing to say. I sighed heavily and saw my breath go up in a cloud. “I’m… I’m sorry. I had no idea. I would’ve—”
“It’s okay. Just go. Tell the cops your story. But just remember the necklace. I’m always with you.”
“I will,” I told her as I turned away and ran for my life.

I had been walking for days. Countless stumbles and hard falls, leaving open wounds that were prone to get an infection sooner or later. Flashbacks of what had happened left me crying on the side of the road, looking more desperate than ever for some attention. They were so real—so vivid—that I could still feel where he hit me and carved into my skin. It was like a never-ending nightmare that I had to recreate every time I closed my eyes.
No one offered to give me a ride or anything to eat. Not even a cop noticed me. I had to drink some lake water—which only made me thirstier—and rummage around trash cans for food like an animal.
As I reached the highway, I saw the sign that said it was only accessible with vehicles. I ignored it and kept walking, even though it was somewhere around the middle of the night. The headlights from the cars were enough for me to see my way back home. That’s when my dad found me not too long after I had already started walking. The headlights shone on me and he took me into his car. How he knew it was me was anybody’s guess but at the time, I was just glad I was going home.
I arrived at the hospital, bombarded with a million questions that I probably didn’t even answer. The next thing I remember is walking into my home again all clean, in fresh (hospital) clothes, and healed. The place hadn’t changed a bit when I was gone. The walls were still white as the heavens and the floor was still made of shining oak wood.
I had never felt happier to be at home.
Today, I walk the streets with confidence. My polio is gone, my scars are barely even visible, and my dad has been way easier on me. He doesn’t hit me anymore and he allows me the freedom that I deserve. Now, I live a happy life. Happier than I’ve ever been before.
As I leave my room and walk into the kitchen, I see a red rose on the table. “Dad, where did this rose come from?” I call out. Silence. I walk forward a bit more and see Derek’s image flickering. He’s holding the rose, smiling at me with that same griming smile of his, the puppies chasing their tails in his eyes.
I stumble backwards, hitting the floor, as a rose petal falls right in front of my face with the whispers of, “I’m still here,” echoing in my ears.

I would like to dedicate this to my mom and dad who gave me life. My grandma and great grandma who helped raise me. My bestest friend, Kayla, who did a major role in helping me create this story. And lastly, everyone who has supported me through all my bad days and will continue to support me throughout my worse ones. I thank you all for being a part of my (life) journey.