1/13: The first of thirteen (Prequel to Amber Alert) - Novella

Chapter 1*

Three years later

My story isn't unlike so many others who had been taken. I've heard about girls being taken on the news, seen it in movies and on television for years prior to my kidnapping. It had been shown so often  it had started to become normal. I shuddered at the horrific thought, but it's true. Everyone was slowly becoming desensitized to the horror of kidnapping and what typically came with it. Even though girls and guys were taken, sometimes for the same sick reasons, no one will talk about it unless it's on a popular show and even then it's just entertainment. We never want it to happen to anyone we know, especially us, but we never talk about it. What happens if we are taken? What do we do? It's not something the movies really prepare you for.

But I'm coming to realize that the short answer is, do whatever you have to in order to survive. At first you're in shock, in complete disbelief, but eventually you'll have to come to terms with it and start living through it.

It will be hard, damn near impossible at times...Trust me, I know.

A single tear trailed down my cheek as I thought of my old life, what had been and could have been. There were so many things I could have done differently. If I wasn't so nice to everyone, a little more guarded and aware of my surroundings, maybe I would have seen the signs. It had started innocently enough, Steve and I were just study partners for our class. I knew he had an interest in me, but I didn't reciprocate. 

I hadn't been careful. Even if I thought we were friends, I should have guarded myself more. He had come to my apartment, learned I lived alone, knew my class schedule, and followed me everywhere. I had walked right into it. Another tear slipped out, but I quickly I wiped it away along with my thoughts of self pity. It wasn't my fault, I shouldn't have needed to think about what could happen, he shouldn't have taken me. Though I should have been more aware. Maybe then I could have saved myself. But was there ever a way to know for sure? No, I could have just been more careful, been around other people instead of alone with him. Now look at me.

I glanced up at the mirror in my room, our room, I mentally corrected myself with disgust. My once blonde hair had turned dirty, my face was grimey and bruised, I had lost a lot of weight from lack of food - his punishment for me attempting to escape. I used to have my own room, a concrete box with nothing but a bed and a closet, but was moved in here a few months after my capture. This room had a nice bed, carpet, photos on the wall, and an ensuite. I never had to leave if I didn't want to. If I could lock him out of it then it would be perfect.

It must have been the escape attempt that finally broke him from trusting me. Though which one was the question. I had tried to escape multiple times, each time he'd seal off the exit I had chosen to prevent another attempt and determined the punishment he thought I deserved. One of which included killing my cat for disobeying him. A single tear slipped down my cheek before I wiped it away. I had to get out and wanted to go back to my life, even if no one was waiting for me.

I've been in this house for years, maybe a decade. It was impossible to really know. He didn't bring newspapers back to the house anymore after work. The last paper I had seen with a date had been a few months after my initial capture. He had only brought it home to taunt me, it asked for any information on me, but there wasn't a missing flyer or anything. It really looked as if I had vanished into thin air.

That's when I tried to escape again, and when he caught me he had shackled me in my old room until he broke me so I wouldn't try to run again. He had plagued me with his stories of how he would watch me and what he wanted to do to me after the first escape attempt. It made me sick. Then after trying a few more times, he let the fantasies come to life.

I had hoped it had all been talk to scare me, but I learned quickly it wasn't. He wanted a good wife, one who followed rules, every order and never tried to run away. He got that eventually, I did what I had to in order to stay alive. To keep us alive, I thought as my hand instinctively fell to my once swollen stomach, which had now gone back to normal after the miscarriage. He had told me he wanted a family and he had finally gotten it after a few attempts. I didn't want to, but I couldn't fight him anymore. It keeps me alive, and at this point I'll do whatever it takes to survive. Not only for myself, but I would have done it for my son, Noah.

He hadn't asked for this, neither did I, but look how that turned out.

I shut my eyes, shielding myself from my image. I could barely look at myself without feeling disgusted. I had done what I needed to in order to survive, but that didn't mean I didn't feel sick with being used. I swallowed to suppress the urge to throw up as I thought about all the things I had done for him just to live a little longer. They all made me want to throw up and crawl in a hole to die.

The rules were easy enough to follow. In fact, there weren't that many, only one.

The unspoken rule of "do what I say, or else." I sighed, forcing myself to look back in the mirror. The bruising on me couldn't be ignored, maybe that's why he didn't let me out of the house. I hoped once I could do what he wanted without screwing up the beatings would stop. He was always careful not to harm the baby. Until I tried to escape again.

He had gone to work, I had about six months pregnant, and I knew I couldn't let the baby be born into this life. Poor Noah. What would his life have been like growing up here? I had to do something and the only thing I could do was run. Too bad I didn't make it far enough.

I barely made it two miles down the road before a police car stopped me. I thought he would help me. Officer Rivers, how could I have trusted you?

My gaze fell back on the mirror. The reflection of my glare was heated with anger. I had always been told to believe police could help me, but the cops around here were no good. They seemed to know what was going on and would fake it for those around them, but they let it happen. I'm not sure whether Steve paid them off or not, but all Officer Rivers did was take me right back to Steve, and he had been furious.

I had done everything he said to keep Noah safe, but I still failed Noah in the end.

Steve had taken me back to my old room and let me suffer. He beat me until I bleed and then he left me alone. The pain hadn't started right away, but when it did I knew something had gone wrong with Noah. My stomach had been in so much pain, the pressure and constant shooting pain made it impossible to remain silent and when I caught sight of the blood between my legs I called for the only person who could help. Steve.

At first, Steve seemed reluctant. He thought I was upset because of the beating, but once I told him something happened to Noah he raced up the stairs. There was nothing we could have done, despite my pleads for him to somehow save Noah. Steve refused to take me to the hospital and eventually I lost Noah along with a lot of blood. I had hoped it would kill me, free me and my son once and for all, but it didn't. He had brought in a friend of his to check on me, and together they kept me alive. Here I was, trapped with no way out, and waiting for Steve to try to give me another child to kill eventually when I tried to escape to save my child and myself. I wouldn't stop trying to escape, especially when it wasn't just for me, but also for something so innocent. I didn't want a child to be raised in this environment. I couldn't let it happen.

He had tried to get me pregnant again, but had failed so far. He even had the same doctor friend, who had been there after the miscarriage, come check me over. He believed I could no longer bear children, and I hoped he was right.

"Kelly, I'm home!" Steve called before he shut the door behind him. "Come here, I have a surprise for you!"

I got up from the seat without a word, displeased to have him back and unenthusiastic to see what he had with him. With my luck it would be his cop friend again. This time payment would be me instead of money. I walked away from the mirror, away from my thoughts and shame as best as I could. Though as I approached my captor, the guilt returned in full force as I laid eyes on a blond boy no older than two years old in Steve's arms.

"Who is this?" I questioned, unable to take my eyes off the child in his hands. "What did you do?"

"This is Garrett, he's ours now. That's all you need to know."