Page 89 of Cedarwood Cabin

“No…No! You can’t do this to me!”

Lyka brings his lips to mine and whispers, “Every teddy bear who’s been good is sure of a treat today.”

They turn around and start walking off, their laughter echoing between the trees.

“Please! Dax…Lyka!”

I am alone, strapped to the tree, and covered in food. The forest turns silent and I can no longer hear Lyka or Dax. Panic sets in the situation I am in suddenly hits me. I try and struggle, twisting myself to the ropes binding me. I feel exposed, like prey waiting for predators to strike. The food smeared over my body attracts insects that buzz around me.

My breathing quickens, shallow and uneven. I start trying to work my way out of the ropes again.

I’m going to die. This is how they want to kill me. Too coward to kill me with their hands so they get a bear to eat me!

The minutes drag on, feeling like hours. I close my eyes and my parents come to my mind. I wish they were here at this moment.

Suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts I hear a low growl. I open my eyes, looking around the forest in fear, yet I see nothing. No shape or form that matches the menacing sound.

The growling gets louder. My heart races and I dare not move. I hold my breath, fearing any sudden noise will bring whatever creature is out there closer. I clamp my mouth shut and shake involuntarily. I yank at the ropes, but they don't budge. I am paralyzed when I realize they are the sounds of bears.

Please let my death be quick. Please let my death be quick!

I look toward the sound of a twig snapping, expecting to see a bear. My hair raises on my neck as the noises reverberate through the trees. I brace myself for the wild animal to pounce.

Instead, what I see freezes me with another kind of horror. Dax and Lyka stand there with evil smirks, holding phones that play recordings of bear growls. They start laughing wickedly.

A scream rises from deep inside me. I let out all of my anger and fear in that scream.

I’d rather have wooden toys inside me again than have this mental torture. I drop my head in defeat. My body shakes uncontrollably with relief that it isn’t a real bear, but quickly reminded that I’m still surrounded by monsters. Monsters that will never let me go. I slump against the tree. My vision blurs with tears as my eyes fix on Dax and Lyka.

Dax walks up to me slowly, with an amused, smug satisfaction on his face. He lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“I’m yours. I won’t defy you anymore. I promise,” I say, my voice breaking. Lyka watches with a twisted grin as I admit my defeat. “Say it again,” he demands.

“I’m yours! Okay? I’m yours!” I scream.

TWENTY-THREE

FLORA

It’s been three weeks and I haven't done anything to aggravate Dax or Lyka. Every command has been followed and every punishment has been avoided. I have earned some of their trust with my submission. They no longer cuff me and I can now move around the cabin with ease. But the doors and windows are still locked, of course.

I sit on a wooden stool in the living room. My eyes are focused on the paper in front of me with my palette only holding black paint. It's the only color I can bear to use. The fact I can paint at all is a miracle in itself. I paint an abyss, a reflection of my soul, without hope, without color.

Taking the brush, I sink into the black paint. The bristles slide across the paper, leaving dark trials like shadows in my mind. “All of this is temporary,” I whisper to myself. These words I hold on to like a lifeline. I am better off dead than being stuck in this hell. I hear footsteps behind me, but I don’t turn.

“How's the painting?” Dax asks, his voice casual. He leans over my shoulder.

“It's coming along,” I say quietly, my eyes glued to the paper.

“Good, stick at it. Maybe one day you’ll paint something more cheerful.”

I don’t say anything in response. Dax sighs as he turns and leaves.

“It’s all temporary,” I repeat to myself in a whisper.

Lyka walks into the room and stands behind me, looking at the painting. He bends down and puts his finger under my chin, guiding my gaze towards him. I lay down my paintbrush. He kneels down beside me, making our faces level. I look into his eyes and see nothing, except I’m pretty sure when he looks into my eyes, he sees the same.

“You don’t have to fight this…you don’t have to fight us…” he says, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.

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