Page 92 of Dollhouse

Until now.

With tears in my eyes, I sat up in my bed slowly, rested my back against the headboard, and sucked in deep breaths to calm my erratic breathing.

“Tate, please. Every single night you scream, and I wake you up, please talk to me.” Sighing, I nodded, brushing my hair behind my ears.

“Okay,” I agreed. It’s not fair to her that I wake her up with my screaming every night. So, I opened myself up to her and told her everything. Well, not everything, but enough so that she understood why I was the way I was.

I told her about Sebastian and his abuse, and how I had ran away from him and about my fear that he would find me one of these days. I explained that he was the reason I always looked over my shoulder, and that he’s the reason why I’d been afraid to be out in public for too long. I shared everything that I could.

“Oh my God, Tate!” she gasped after I finished speaking, and pulled me into a tight hug. “This explains so much! But girl, you’re giving him power over you. By looking over your shoulder and living in fear, you’re still letting him control you. You’re not free, and you won’t be until you take back control.” I stared at her with curious eyes.

“I take a self-defense class twice a week, and you’re going with me next time. And then we’re going to have lunch and sit outdoors. I’m going to help you take control of your life.” She wiped away the tears that I didn’t realize were streaming down my cheeks. “I’ve got you, Tate, from this point forward, it’s you and me against the world. You’re in control.”

* * *

I wakewith tears in my eyes. My heart is aching at the fact Cassie is gone.

The sweet innocent girl who did nothing wrong is dead because of me.

She helped me in so many ways. When I was afraid of my own shadow, she taught me to not be afraid and to start living.

Because of Cassie, I was able to stop living in fear and for the first time I was able to start taking control of my life and truly be free. Free from Sebastian and free of the fear that he’s lurking in the shadows.

Not only did she help me with taking control over my life and learn self-defense, but she also helped me to find a therapist that specializes in working with victims of abuse.

I’d never thought about going to therapy before that, but it really helped me.

Thanks to Cassie, I am no longer afraid of the monsters that lurk in the dark.

* * *

My daysand nights are blending.

I’m going in and out of consciousness, never knowing what day or time it was.

The chain around my ankle prevents me from reaching the window or the door, when I’m awake and try to move.

At this point I’m not confident in my ability to walk. I stand to at least stretch my legs, but I feel them getting weaker each time I stand.

I need to walk and properly stretch them, which I can’t do being chained up like a fucking animal.

There’s a bucket near me that I use to relieve myself.

The fucker comes in—I assume once a day—to empty it, and each time he does, I try and make conversation.

I want to know thehethat he was referring to, and I want to know what the fucking plan is here.

Surely, he can’t keep me chained up forever… right?

As if he could sense me thinking about him, he chooses that moment to enter my cell. He doesn’t bother closing the door anymore because he knows I can’t get out anyways, but he still keeps it locked when he leaves; I know this because I hear the click of the lock after he leaves.

He steps inside of my fucking prison cell and sets a bottle of water down in front of me. The sun is shining through the window, and I know it’s morning.

He gives me a bottle of water each time the sun is up, and this is the fourth time he’s done it.

Which I guess means I’ve been here for four days.

Four days. It feels so much longer than that.

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