I watched as my own blood gushed out of my open wound and poured down my side, trying not to vomit. However, no tears salted my heated cheeks as my mind went numb with the overwhelming sensation of a slight defeat. The demon inside of my enemy looked at me with his glazed-over eyes, craftily disguised as a lucid human man. It thudded across the kitchen, clutched onto the carton of sea salt, and poured it generously over the opening of the fresh wound. My screams echoed throughout the empty house, trying in vain to contact any other being. A perverse grin stretched across the demon's face. I felt helpless, almost as through the life was being pulled out of me. He wrapped my midsection tightly in strips of thin, white cotton and pulled me up by my wrists. He dragged me down the hallway into my bedroom, and thrust me under my bed, where I was left for two days, unnoticed by a single soul. He came in once or twice to provide water to keep me alive, but I went without food or sustenance.
I faded in and out, and toyed with the question of whether or not I would survive. I almost even smirked, at the thought of death. With my visions and living nightmares, death actually seemed to be quite a welcoming idea at the time. After what seemed like eternity, but was really my second night beneath my bed, my stepfather pulled me out in the darkest hour of the night, buckled me into his truck, and drove the long, mostly straight road across California, and into a shaded hotel in Carson City. It was surrounded by a thick forest, packed with dark auras and evil spirits, seeking destruction of any slightest innocence. I was surrounded, and forced to share a small bed with the monster, wearing only an over sized t-shirt.
A month passed, and I was force-fed the one food that my stomach would absolutely not tolerate; beans. Even the slightest whiff of them caused an up-heaving reaction in my gut. I was ordered to apply a certain salve that oozed from a small, white, metallic tube onto my side which, at the time, bore a lengthy scar. As the days passed, the scar faded. I was still made to eat beans for almost every meal, and hardly failed to eject it all over the hotel toilet each time. My birthday came, and I was given a thick sandwich overloaded with different types of meat and cheese, along with a gallon of milk.
Day by day, as I was missing school, he gave me practice workbooks that were two grades ahead of mine, to work on my math and English. He also assigned me sentences to write, a hundred, sometimes more, each day. If I finished them in the small alloted amount of time I was given, he would reward me with something such as a soda or small ice cream cone from a fast food drive-through. This continued for what felt like half a lifetime, and I had spent a few nights wondering if he would ever bring me back home.
After having been kidnapped for two months, the police were in a full-fledged Amber Alert for me. One evening, we went for a drive. The next thing I knew, I was waking up, my neck cramped from sleeping in a passenger seat, and I recognized a familiar street. He finally took me home. As I ran into the house, I realized that it was empty. My siblings were gone, and only my worried mother remained. I went to use the toilet, my first self-controlled action I had done in over a year. My mother bursted into the bathroom and knelt, sobbing as she wrapped me in a tight embrace.
"I'm so sorry, baby," she said, her voice quivering with choked tears." I swear I didn't know where he took you. You're okay now, sweetheart. God, I was so worried--- I've missed you so much .."
"It's okay, ma, I'm alright," I said quietly, "Everything will be okay."
She smiled a puffy, wet, teary smile, and said, "Well, I'll just let you finish here, then I'll be back to tuck you in when you're ready."
She stood up and shut the bathroom door behind her. After I finished, I shuffled down the hallway into my now-empty bedroom, onto my bottom bunk. I stared at the wall, numb with confusion, relief and pain all at once. My mother came in with a glass of water and we said our prayers, then she tucked me in.
"You sleep for as long as you'd like," she said. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
She kissed me on the forehead, said good night, then walked off into the kitchen. I stayed awake for another fifteen minutes, and I could hear her crying. I put my face down in my pillow and cried myself to sleep.
