A Kidnapper's Dream (Unedited)

-Prologue: Teardrops on a Fountain-

@Copyright 2013 all rights reserved

-Written By: LovableMonster-

(Dedication also to: @FireGoesDown for this amazingly beautiful side banner, sorry so short.)

-Prologue: Teardrops On A Fountain-

I move my hand against the water that flows through the huge Liveasea Fountain. Its stonework is amazing and the water is cold to the touch. I love the cold that shoots through my body. I take a seat on the edge and observe my surroundings. I focus my blue eyes on the little garden I'd claimed. It's close to my grandparents' house, which is far older than I am. I like old things though; I like what used to be beautiful. It reminds me so much of myself. It's strange, comparing a fountain to myself. Someone would think I'm crazy for thinking that.

My bare feet are cold since they skim the ground. A shiver runs through my body as my white nightgown doesn't provide much warmth. As I lay back I can see the night sky above me. The stars above gleaming like a million diamonds. I've always preferred starry nights because they make me feel safe. I also like the beautiful twinkles of light they make in the darkness. There's always a little bit of light in darkness, always.

My garden is a place I can get away from everyone and everything. It's both my safe haven and my comfort zone. It's also pretty much the only other place I can ever go besides my grandparents' house.

As I turn my head to the side, I see my reflection in the water. Brown hair and skinny limbs reflect back at me. There is a disheartening cut on my lip and a large burn mark near the hollow of my throat. It had all happened so quickly, yet the pain still remains. I don't like to remember that day, it brings back too many horrible memories for my stomach to digest. My heart doesn't like that despite my hatred of remembering, the past is constantly on my mind which always brings it pain.

I place a hand to it, running my fingers over the burn on my neck. The scars are much worse than the burns, you'd think it would be the other way around. There're less burns than scars though. I'm twenty-two and I've been through so much already. My childhood is a subject I don't often speak of. It was an awful time, and my scars are proof. The scars are the worse features that display the disaster, there's burns and bruises still left on my body as well. Although, the scars are the majority of my disfigurement. They stand out so much, you'd think they were purple or pink the way people notice them so quickly.

I close my eyes as the wind picks up, billowing my nightgown in the air which is soon joined by my brown curls. This place is my home now, a part of me I've learned to grow with. It's not perfect, but what place is? Nothing is perfect, absolutely nothing, not anymore. God didn't create things to be perfect. The house itself is fine, but it holds too many memories of my past, and my grandparents are always judging me about everything when I've done nothing wrong.

My thoughts drift back to the scars and bruises. I wasn't born with them though it is a story that is both gruesome and horrible. I haven't told anyone of it, not the exact details at least. No one even knows the story of the man who saved me; a man I didn't even get a chance to thank. He left far too quickly for me to even see his face. I wish I could have at least seen him again, to make sure he wasn't just my imagination. Although, I don't think my imagination killed Anthony that night...Oh...Anthony...

I can't let myself feel the pain anymore, that's why I constantly think of ending my life. Although, I'm too scared to find out what comes after death. I've tried drowning myself in the fountain once, but my grandparents came just in the nick of time. I also tried cutting myself with the kitchen knife, but I don't like to feel pain...What really frightens me about death is that I might not exist anymore and everything that's happened will just be erased, although that would be wonderful in some cases.