Her name is ellie

Her name is Ellie.
1993

Her hair, it's smooth, it's in a loose ponytail; she's cold, but not un-living cold, just warm enough to feel her pain. Her palms are cold, each crease on the palm of her hand is filled with un-happiness and trauma, she's dead. Not physically, but inside nothing grows within her, she's in her own pit of personal despair, created by me? Or by herself?.

I had a horse when I was younger, he was my only friend, the one thing that I was close to, my brother had never been close to me, he would often spend time looking over the sea cliffs and not moving as the wind would flow through his hair, he's not close with anyone, not like I was with my horse.
They never told me about what happened to my horse apart from it being tired, I worried endlessly, my pain for my horse was disregarded, I unrelentlessly asked and asked my parents where he went; they never answered.
A few days after my horse had fallen asleep, three men had come to my house, asking my mother if they were able to ask me some questions, they offered money, $40 to be exact, mother had said yes. They sat me down and each pulled out notebooks and pencils, they asked me questions like 'Do you have anyone living in your head? Any Voices? Do you get jealous very often?' Mother told me to be honest, so I was, they left the following day, one man with a brown stubble beard had stopped and held my mother's hand, he said I was to be diagnosed with "Borderline personality disorder" my mother was distraught, that day she had her hair out, it was so unlike her, she had always had it in a bun. That day, I asked her if I could play in the barn with the animals, she had always said no, but that day was different, she said yes.

Each day went by, my father slowly breaking his way from the family, until the day when my older brother and I were sent off to work for a man named MacRae, he was a wretched old man, angry as thunder, as unforgiving as a tornado, however I was his worker, so I had to work hard.

I had met a girl, beautiful brown hair, her hair was just cut above her shoulders, her hair was perfect, she had ridden in the stables that I had to clean that day, she had wore pants on that day, it was unlike a lady of her class to wear pants,they were yellow and black, the pattern crossed over like the plaid pattern in scotland. Her shirt is white, it's collared, each button done up, not a single crease in the shirt, she's so sophisticated, and beautiful.

She had stepped down from her horse, she tied it up to the nearest post and dusted off her hands, she looked around, eventually looking at me. I was frozen, then my older brother walked up to her and she shook his hand, "nice to meet you, I'm Ellie, Ellie MacRae of MacRae industries, I'm here to sell this old woman" she pats the horse, my brother leads her horse over to the stables to where I was, "David, give Miss MacRae her money, $26, for the horse and the halter, good day miss MacRae " my brother tips his hat in respect to Ellie. I take $26 out of the till and hand her the money, "here you are miss MacRae , $26's as promised" she takes the money "Please, call me Ellie" she then shakes my hand and walks off. She then walks off over the road where she is picked up by a black Cadillac 1977 coupe DeVille.

I walk home, my home is only a few kilometers away from the stables so it's an easy walk. I tend to notice the beauty of the Nova Scotia scenery when walking home, the scenery puts my thoughts on pause, and allows me to walk as though I'm floating on clouds.
I had finally gotten into my house when a car passed, a very familiar car, it was Ellie, in her Cadillac, I stopped and pretended that my keys wouldn't work so she would stop, it worked, she stepped out of her car and came towards me. "Hey, are you locked out? Do you need help?" She slowly jogs towards me her high heels are stopping her from running, "Ah, yes, this key,something doesn't work, it's the old doors fault" I say, to lure her in, she grabs the keys that I offer to her to help open my door, she accepts and tries to unlock the door, I grab her hands and she fights back and slaps me, she forces me to the ground, She kicks me, I grab her right foot, she falls to the ground, hitting her soft head on my stool on my porch. I pull her inside, locking the door.

I walk into the room in which she's tied up and I slowly walk up to her, she's stale, she's not moving like my horse, the one good thing that was taken from me.

Her hair, it's smooth, it's in a loose ponytail, she's cold, but not un-living cold, just warm enough to feel her pain. Her palms are cold, each crease on the palm of her hand is filled with un-happiness and trauma, she's dead, not physically but inside nothing grows within her, she's in her own pit of personal despair, created by me? Or by herself?. She slowly wakes, mumbling, and finally opens her eyes to see me, the love of her life. She cries, but the scarf that i've wrapped around her mouth to make her quiet works ,she whimpers like my horse had when falling asleep, I take the scarf off of her mouth, "You scream, I'll taunt you until you're ready to die, then it's your story to make next", I say making sure she understands, she nods her head in understanding, "You have two questions, I'll answer both honestly, choose wisely" I grin, she breathes in, "Why did you take me?", I chuckle, "Well, my precious bearberry, you are my boss' daughter, yes, Your father ruined my life,each day was horrible, he took my best friend away from me, and yet you did nothing!" I stroke her precious brown hair away from her teary eyes. "So that was one question down, last one my dear", She looks up at me, her eyes are bloodshot, " Who are you?" she says, she looks angry, why? I answer anyway, "My name is David, I am 23 years of age, I am from Nova Scotia, I have a mother, father and an older brother, you have met him, at the stables" .She cries out "I- When was your friend taken away from you? Who was your friend?", I slap her on her blemished cheeks, she bites my hands, I scream in pain and storm out of the room.

For that she can go without food or water for two days, if she changes her attitude, we will see what happens to her.

It's been two days, I had best check upon her, she'll be begging for mercy when I walk back in that room. I walked in, the door was wide open, where is she? She's gone? How? Her chains are gone? How??, I look back to see Ellie holding her chains in her hands. She runs at me, and puts the chains against my neck, strangling me. I gasp for air, and continue to struggle for air, I fall to the ground, she gets the chains off of me. I look up at her and gasp "Ellie" she starts tearing up, SHE LOVES ME! I had thought in my head, but what kind of love consists of kicking? I lay on the floor gasping for every breath that my lungs can take, the pain eventually stops as she stops kicking, "you're lucky I can't kill, but what will come for you, you will wish that you were dead".

She walks out of the house, I am laying on the floor of the room, saying the words over and over "her name is Ellie"