Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Votes needed
Hi everyone.. Could you please go vote for me.. Was cruising through and seen that I was on the list... it only takes a sec and would mean a lot to me. Thanks i think I am like 105 on the list.. http://www.goodreads.com/list/show/26495.Best_Women_authored_Books?format=html&page=2
Monday, January 7, 2013
Been a long road and a long time
So much has happened in the last year since I have been on here. I got a new publisher, the book was edited and got a makeover. it just came back out on Dec 1st of 2012 on ebook, the paperback and audio is coming soon.
I am so excited to see what happens with everything. I have been doing soe interviews and tonight I will be doing a live radio show at 10 pm central time. You can check it out at check it out...
and www.ghostwhisperer.co. The show is a little different than any I have done before in the sense that people can call in and talk with me.. Want to talk about being nervous.lol..
I also have put up the first chapter of Lessons from an evil mind at wattpad.com. Check it out and vote for it.. Not really sure what the voting is for but hey votes are always nice. haha.
I am so excited to see what happens with everything. I have been doing soe interviews and tonight I will be doing a live radio show at 10 pm central time. You can check it out at check it out...
and www.ghostwhisperer.co. The show is a little different than any I have done before in the sense that people can call in and talk with me.. Want to talk about being nervous.lol..
I also have put up the first chapter of Lessons from an evil mind at wattpad.com. Check it out and vote for it.. Not really sure what the voting is for but hey votes are always nice. haha.
Monday, June 25, 2012
LESSONS FROM AN EVIL MIND
Horror beyond imagination. A madman has kept a woman imprisoned in his basement for three years. She finally sees a way to escape...
http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/118742?a=698578
The director of "Lessons From an
Evil Mind", Christopher Forbes, is a graduate of Columbia College,
Chicago with a major in film.
- "Lessons From an Evil Mind" is his 19th feature film since 2001.
- Although many of his films are westerns and Civil War
movies, Mr. Forbes believes he does some of his best work in the horror
genre.
- We are using this method of funding to help Shawna Stewart succeed with her dream of having her book turned into a film.
- The horror genre is one of the top marketable genres in film and is popular with audiences worldwide.
What We Need & What You Get
- The funds raised in this campaign will pay for the actual production of the motion picture, i.e. principal photography. This involves shooting at a variety of locations over several months. Each location involves location rental, fuel, food, props, wardrobe and a variety of other expenses. Most of the film will be shot in and around Augusta, GA, but a large portion will be shot in Iowa near the home of the author, so there will be some travel expenses involved.
- One of the most critical elements in a film such as this is the special effects blood work, which must be convincing. We have engaged Roger Letizia for this, who worked with Forbesfilm on other productions and has always delivered the goods in this department.
- Specialized camera motion equipment as well as professional sound and lighting gear will have to be rented as needed. This is a feature film production, with a final running time estimated to be 90 minutes.
- Upwards of 100 people will be invovled in the production in one way or another.
In return for YOUR help -- We are offering some pretty Great Perks which are outlined on the right!!
Other Ways You Can Help
Some people just can’t contribute, but that doesn’t mean they can’t help:- PLEASE Tell Everyone YOU Know about this campaign!! --And, Remind them to TELL Everyone They Know!!
- Remember to use the Indiegogo share tools! It makes things Quite Easy!!
And that’s all there is to it.
Film Story Summary:
LUE
sits in the middle of the floor. Her hands tucked beneath her, her eyes
closed and her head faced down. The room is silent, leaving only the
sounds of his foot steps to be heard. Every part of existence screams
“RUN”, but she knows she does not dare. She knows the rules. She must
sit silent and wait what comes next. A loud crack echoes through her
head as blood rushes down her pale white cheeks. Once again lue will
suffer the darkness of unconsciousness.
It
has been days since the last time Lue has seen her captor. She is weak
and hungry, with not a speck of food around. She looks around the
dungeon for anything that might satisfy her hunger. There is nothing but
an old glass of milk. She must drink it, or continue in hunger. Her
stomach instantly becoming nausea as she continues to allow the curdled
milk to slide down her throat. As tears fall down her cheeks, she closes
her eyes and thinks back to the day she was taken. The day she was to
marry, KAMRIN.
A
sparkle from the other side of the room catches Lue's attention. She is
curious and has to know what it is. Slowly, she walked to the other
side of the room. There, sitting in front of her is a mirror covered in
mesh. She looks in the mirror and screams. Staring back at her is a
scarred, beaten monster, where a once reflected a beautiful woman. She
wants to cry, but not a tear will escape her weary eyes. Her beautiful
blonde hair is now knotted and dirty, she is pale, bruised and she sees
nothing more them the scars that now overtake her body. She stands for
hours looking at the monster he has made her. Suddenly, she feels the
hot breath of the man that keeps her captive. Startled, she jumps back
and covers her face, knowing that she will be punished for not being in
her designated area. After what seems like an eternity, she removes her
hands and looks up. He is standing there, wearing his usual black mask,
holding a plate of food. She grabs for the food. He is angry, because
he believes that she had stood in front of the mirror to long and throws
her food to the floor. She stands paralyzed, afraid to move, afraid to
say anything. He leaves.
After
returning with a plate of rotten food that her forces her to eat, her
captor insists that she is to take a shower and put on the new dress he
had bought her. She is frightened. She doesn't understand why she is to
get dressed up. She does as told. Standing in the area she is to take a
bath in, she awaits the moment her captor turns on the hose for her. The
water is cold, but feels good against her bruised skin. She opens her
mouth, allowing the water to wash out the rotten food she had just
eaten.
Lue
is dressed and ready to go. She has no idea where. He comes in, takes
her hand and leads her down a dark, moldy hall. Suddenly a door appears
and she is led down a hidden staircase. She starts to fall, only to find
that there is no walls or floor beyond where is presently walking. He
instructs her to go into a darkened room. The door opens; the smell of
death fills the area. Lue is afraid to go in, but she no choice; there
is now place for her to run. The room is dark and uninviting. Her
captor leaves her alone inside the darkened room. After hearing the
voices of others, Lue begins to look around. Within minutes, she wishes
she hadn't.
It
has days since she was brought into the room of “death”. However, she
still can not release the sorrow she feels for taking the life of
another. Her spirit is broken and she knows if she does not escape
soon, she will give into the Evil that surrounds her.
She
looks up to the staircase that leads to freedom. Her daily meal is
waiting. She cautiously walks up the stairs to get to her meal. The door
flies open. Her captor attacks her. Managing to get her hidden weapon
she takes control and escapes into the forest.
Lue
runs through the field and into the woods. The Forest is dark and she
has no idea where she is running. All she knows is she is free. She must
be careful that she is not captured again, so she must seek shelter for
the night. After searching most of the night, she finds a deserted
cabin. It looks like a nice place to rest her tired body for the night.
Only if she would have known what awaited her in the morning, she would
have kept running.
Lue
opens her eyes. She sees that of a dark figure standing in front of
her. She tries to focus, but the pain from her newly broken leg causes
her eyes to fill with tears. She wants to run, but she is hostage to her
wounded leg. Just as she sees a man walking toward her she passes out.
Lue
is woke by the aroma of an open fire. ANGEL walks over, ensuring her
that he is not there to harm her. She is frightened. She has never seen
the man that had held her hostage and tortured her for many years. She
uncertain if this is the man. She looks into his bright blue eyes and
knows he is the Angel she has been waiting for. Mesmerized by his
beauty, she finds herself starring at his perfect physique; his blonde
hair sparkling within the firelight behind him.
It
has been over a week since Lue has been free and she is anxiously
waiting the moment when she will be reunited with her parents. The nurse
comes in and tells her that she has been released from the hospital.
Joy overcomes her. She is finally going home.
Angel,
helps her into his truck and drives her to her parents house. The ride
is long. When they arrive, Lue does not hesitate; she opens the door to
her parents house and hobbles in. She can hear the voices of parents,
however her parents are nowhere to be found. She searches every room,
but she does not find them. Angel sits on her Dads favorite chair,
sobbing within him. There is a letter. The man that had kept her for so
long has her parents. Lue is heartbroken.
Lue
opens the front door of Angel's mansion. There stands Kamrin. Her heart
skips a beat. The love of her life is there. She jumps into his strong,
waiting arms, holding on to him as tightly as she could, never wanting
to let him go again. Within seconds the joy she had once felt is taken
away as she remembers that he is now married to her best friend,
Cheyenne. Not only had she lost her parents, the man she was to marry,
has married her best friend. Lue, is left with only Angel to help her.
Weeks
go by. She is still living in Angel’s house, each day falling finding
that the love she feels for him continues to grow, but yet she has an
undying love for Kamrin. Her heart is torn.
Suddenly
she finds her life in turmoil as the Evil captor that once haunted her
refuses to set her free. Her existence now filled with Angels and
Demons, both of which want her.
The Unknown
As I rise from my afternoon nap, I peek out the window that overlooks the yard. It’s a small window, but it’s the only window in this dreadful place and I am happy to have it. At one time the window was not blocked; however, now the entrance to the window is surrounded by sharp shards of glass cemented into the concrete around it, allowing only a small dim of light to seep through the grime and filth that layers the glass. I guess this is to ensure I never try to escape again.
With my body weakened, I slowly crawl on top of an old, broken , table so that I can get a better look outside. I am just tall enough to see over the barricade in front of the window. It looks like a nice day.
There are a few orange flowers spread amongst on the ground, so I try to guess the season.
“Spring,” I think to myself.
The sun peeks through the glass just enough to allow a pin size ray of light to dance on my palm. I move my bruised hand around as I watch the light dance around, causing the multiple colors of blue, red and purple to stand out from the milky white flesh that remains untouched by his abuse. Oh, how I crave the sunshine and wind on my face and wait the day I can feel it once again!
Just as my thoughts wonder to a better place I hear his footsteps above.
He is back!
The feeling of peace and contentment comes to an abrupt end.
I turn with the intention of jumping from the table. The weakened wooden legs buckle beneath it. I
plummet to the floor. Caught off guard; my body slams onto the hard surface beneath me with such force that a sharp pain
instantly shoots through my body.
In a frenzy I rise as fast as my sore, wounded legs will allow me and run to the middle of the floor, preparing for the wrath I know he is about to put upon me!
I hear his voice. My skin begins to crawl and my head twirl, making it difficult to think. Feeling as if my heart has just been jumped-started it begins to beat faster and faster, until it feels like it is going to explode out of my chest. I wonder what will happen to me this time, what sort of punishment I will have to endure.
As I hear his footsteps coming closer to the door, my muscles tense. I want to scream, but I know I do not dare.
He is now at the door!
I scream only within myself as I hear the handle of the door rattle beneath his hand.
“Oh no! Oh no!” I yell within myself.
Ignoring the pain of my newfound bruises on my legs, I get into the position that he deems appropriate when I am to meet him.
I am to sit in the middle of the floor, on my knees, head down, and hands tucked within my lap. Most importantly, never raise your head until spoken to. This is the norm, and if I am not in that position when he walks in, I will be severely punished.
The door opens just enough so that the rays from the sun can sneak through the crack. Assuring that he does not see me do so, I raise my head slightly and let the beam of light rest on my pallid cheeks. The little bit of warmth coming from the ray of light feels nice against my chilled skin.
For a brief moment I am reminded of another time, another place. A brief spell of happiness escapes the sadness I feel inside. Afraid that he may catch me with my head raised, I close my blue eyes and lower my head slowly, letting my dirty blonde hair shield my face. I hear the door slam behind him. Tears of dread instantly stream down my cheeks.
I know I must get my emotions under control. I want to wipe my eyes, but I know I do not dare move my arms from their present position. Cautiously, I slowly lift my shoulders to my face so that I can rub my eyes on my old, battered, white gown.
Knowing that I am not allowed to move unless I am told to, I stop and let my shoulders rest, praying with all my heart that my actions were unseen.
It is then when I realize that I no longer hear his footsteps. I become paranoid. I have to know where he is. I have to be prepared.
Never moving my head from its present position, I open my eyes and quickly scan the room.
Through my tear filled eyes I see his old, dirty tennis shoes. He is now standing in front of me. The room, eerily silent as he stands within inches from me. Afraid of his intentions, my heart skips a beat, I begin to sweat; and my muscles begin to tense.
Every instinct that I have yells, “Run, Lue! Run.”
I want to listen to the voice in my head but I know I do not dare. There is no escape. There is nothing I can do but sit and await the punishment that I know he is about to put upon me.
Time slowly passes by as he continues to stand in front of me without movement. My eyes begin to burn but I am afraid to close them; afraid that the moment I do he will disappear, leaving with the question as to where he has gone. The silence is unnerving. I try not to move, but my body becomes sore and tired in its present position. I begin to fidget. My hand begins to slip from my lap. Quickly, I try to reposition my hand in hopes that he has not seen it move. Unfortunately I am not that lucky. He grabs my hand and begins to squeeze it with such intensity that a bruise instantly takes over my wrist. Pain shoots through my wrist and up my arm. Instantly my eyes fill with fresh tears.
I do not dare scream. I bite my lip as the pain becomes overwhelming. An unwelcome taste now fresh in my mouth, I slowly feel my bottom lip with my tongue. My lips are wet and slimy. I peek down and see that I have bitten through my lip to the point that blood is dripping onto the floor.
I try to keep my emotions under control, but the pain that he is continuing to put upon me is more then I can take. A slight whimper escapes from within me.
Afraid of what he may do next, I sit as still as I possibly can. I breathe in hesitance, ensuring that I do not make another sound nor move again, not even in the slightest. As silence continues and the torture remains, my fear heightens; I have to know what he has in mind for me.
Through squinted eyes I look over to where I know he is standing. I get a glimpse of his hand wrapped around my wrist. His knuckles are as white as snow, indicating the amount of pressure he is inflicting on my fragile bones. I want to look up at him and apologize for moving in such a way that I have broken his rules.
“If he would just look into my blue eyes and see the pain he is causing me, maybe he will spare me for any further pain,” a little voice inside me insists.
“No, he won’t!” I argue within myself. “He loves to see you in pain. He will never release you if you show him your agony! You know that. You’re twenty- nine years old. Now quit acting like a baby and do what you know you have to do.”
Coming to terms with myself and what needs to be done, I sit and wait, praying that he soon release me.
The silence is broke as a loud growl overtakes the immediate area. Suddenly and with great power he releases me from within his grasp. I am caught off-guard and do not have time to react. My hand slams onto the hard floor besides me. His growling is no longer perceptible to my ears, only the sound of the bones within my hand cracking as the floor is as unforgiving as he. The pain that I felt before is nothing to the agony that I am now experiencing.
Afraid to try and move my newly broken hand, I let it rest on the floor. I am in excruciating pain and want to cry, but I know if I do I will suffer even more painful consequences. I have no other choice but to keep my head pointed toward the ground and my feelings prisoner inside me. I will never show him the pain I am enduring.
As time slowly passes, seconds begin feeling like hours and minutes into days. I know he is not done with me yet, but what I do not know, is what will happen next. Without warning, I feel his power as he grabs my hair and whips my head back toward him. He is now standing behind me!
Suddenly, I am staring at the darkness that keeps me here. His true identity never to be seen, he is wearing a mask that hugs his face like a second skin. I continue to stare, studying his physique as if I am studying a piece of impressionistic art.
Although I have no way of knowing what he truly looks like, something about him I find hypnotizing. I try to look away, but I can’t. His eyes look like empty, bottomless holes; the blackness pulling me in further and further until I am in a trance. I am no longer under my own power. I continue to stare.
“It is like he has no soul,” I think to myself.
As if he has heard my silent words, he chuckles.
Still holding a fistful of my dirty, blonde hair, he smiles as he wipes the tears from my cheeks.
“Is something wrong?” he asks in a devilish tone.
I am afraid to say anything, but at the same time I am afraid not to answer him. Without warrant my answer slips from my mouth.
“Nothing wrong here. Just another day in paradise,” I smirk, as he continues to whip my head in every direction.
The entire time those dreadful words are coming out of my mouth, I know what I am saying is wrong. I can’t help it. I am in pain and out of patience. I take in a deep breath, roll my eyes, and shake my head in disbelief. What have I done? How could I have let myself slip that way? I close my eyes in fear and wait the punishment I know is my only destiny.
With a chuckle, my captor whips my head toward the ground, releasing my hair from his clutches. Instantly the muscles in my neck and shoulders burn, feeling as if a hot poker has just been stabbed into the back of my neck.
I roll my neck around and lift my shoulders trying to relieve the pain. When I realize what I am doing, I instantly stop. Hysteria has now set in. Not only have I spoken in a tone that I am sure he deems inappropriate, I moved without permission. This is it; I know I will be hurt again. I just don’t know how.
“I think, ‘it’s’ going to cry,” he says to me with an evil laugh.
“My name is Lue. I am twenty-nine years old. I live in small town called Swan Valley. I have a mother. I have a father. I have a fiancé, who loves me dearly. His name is Kamrin,” I say in a soft whimper. “I am not an “it”. I am a woman.”
“I guess with that little bit of information, you are now wanting to know something about me?” he asks in the utmost condescending voice.
He walks back over to my side and pauses where my hand lies.
“Let’s play a game,” he says. “I know how old you are. Now I want you to know a little more about me.”
Suddenly, I feel a breeze against my arm as he slams his heel harder and harder onto the ground next to me, each time coming closer to my hand.
“I am going to continue doing this until you guess my age.” He laughs. “So you better start guessing quickly; the heel of my shoe is getting closer to those little fingers of yours.”
Each time the heel of his shoe nicks my skin, he laughs. His disturbing laughter fills the room. He is enjoying the sick game he is playing.
“You’re thirty-five!” I scream.
“Wrong!” He laughs as he slams his foot down closer to my fingers.
“Forty,” I cry.
“Wrong again!” He laughs.
I feel the rubber of his shoe knick my pinky.
“Think,” I demand upon myself.
I try to concentrate on his voice, hoping that I will get an indication to how old he is. I have to get the answer right soon, or I will suffer another fracture.
“Twenty-nine!” I scream. “Twenty-nine!”
As quickly as it all began, it is over. Never saying another word, he turns and walks away.
“I guess I got it right,” I say within myself. “What a
Sick bastard!”
A sense of relief overcomes me, and I pray
that I am safe for now.
I peek through the corner of my eyes and watch as he walks up the stairs toward the door leading out of the “hellhole” he keeps me in. I am safe; my punishment is over. I take in a deep breath and look over at my arm that still lie paralyzed in pain. I am amazed by the bruise that has taken over my entire hand and wrist. I try to move it, but the pain is too intense.
I am exhausted from the anguish I just had encountered; I need a minute before I try to get up and bandage my hand.
I lie on the ground and look up at the moldy ceiling and stare at the chipped paint, imagining they are stars and that I am lying in a plush green field.
I begin to cry. Within moments, I cry myself into hysterics. I am tired, lonesome, and all I want is for this torture and pain to end. I just want to be left alone, and if this is the place I am to die, I wish it would happen without my mind or body enduring any more pain.
A sudden burst of laughter echoes throughout the room. The floor beneath me begins to shake. Startled by the movement of the room and the loud laughter, I leap up and in one movement sit back into a kneeling position.
Evil is back!
“Although you won the game, you still need to learn your lesson!” he screams in my ear.
Before I can prepare myself for any of his hateful doings, he begins to place the heel of his foot onto my broken hand, crushing my bones beneath it. A new wave of agonizing pain overtakes my arm. Angrier then ever I leave my pain unseen…unheard. I will not allow a sound to escape my mouth this time.
“I will not give in to him . . . I will not give him that pleasure,” I think to myself.
My silence angers him even more. He finds it exhilarating to see me in pain, I know that is why he has come back. He has to see more. He desires to keep hurting me until I scream. I will not. I can not do it! This is my only way of
getting back at him. I have to make certain that I do not show him any emotion at all.
It is a fight against good and evil; he will not give in, nor will I. He continues pressing harder and harder onto my knuckles until he is sure there is not a bone left unbroken. The pain is overwhelming. My plan of action is not working. He is not going to stop this time until I finally apologize and give him the pleasure that he is so desiring. Evil will conquer once again.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to break the rules,” I
whimper.
“Did you learn your lesson?” the man asks in an eerie tone.
“Yes, sir, I did,” I answer in a soft, apologetic voice.
“And what lesson did you learn?” he asks.
“Not to move unless told to,” I cry. “And?” he continues.
“Never to speak to you in such a sarcastic manner,” I answer softly.
Satisfied with my answers, he slowly removes his foot from my hand and walks away.
With my body weakened, I slowly crawl on top of an old, broken , table so that I can get a better look outside. I am just tall enough to see over the barricade in front of the window. It looks like a nice day.
There are a few orange flowers spread amongst on the ground, so I try to guess the season.
“Spring,” I think to myself.
The sun peeks through the glass just enough to allow a pin size ray of light to dance on my palm. I move my bruised hand around as I watch the light dance around, causing the multiple colors of blue, red and purple to stand out from the milky white flesh that remains untouched by his abuse. Oh, how I crave the sunshine and wind on my face and wait the day I can feel it once again!
Just as my thoughts wonder to a better place I hear his footsteps above.
He is back!
The feeling of peace and contentment comes to an abrupt end.
I turn with the intention of jumping from the table. The weakened wooden legs buckle beneath it. I
plummet to the floor. Caught off guard; my body slams onto the hard surface beneath me with such force that a sharp pain
instantly shoots through my body.
In a frenzy I rise as fast as my sore, wounded legs will allow me and run to the middle of the floor, preparing for the wrath I know he is about to put upon me!
I hear his voice. My skin begins to crawl and my head twirl, making it difficult to think. Feeling as if my heart has just been jumped-started it begins to beat faster and faster, until it feels like it is going to explode out of my chest. I wonder what will happen to me this time, what sort of punishment I will have to endure.
As I hear his footsteps coming closer to the door, my muscles tense. I want to scream, but I know I do not dare.
He is now at the door!
I scream only within myself as I hear the handle of the door rattle beneath his hand.
“Oh no! Oh no!” I yell within myself.
Ignoring the pain of my newfound bruises on my legs, I get into the position that he deems appropriate when I am to meet him.
I am to sit in the middle of the floor, on my knees, head down, and hands tucked within my lap. Most importantly, never raise your head until spoken to. This is the norm, and if I am not in that position when he walks in, I will be severely punished.
The door opens just enough so that the rays from the sun can sneak through the crack. Assuring that he does not see me do so, I raise my head slightly and let the beam of light rest on my pallid cheeks. The little bit of warmth coming from the ray of light feels nice against my chilled skin.
For a brief moment I am reminded of another time, another place. A brief spell of happiness escapes the sadness I feel inside. Afraid that he may catch me with my head raised, I close my blue eyes and lower my head slowly, letting my dirty blonde hair shield my face. I hear the door slam behind him. Tears of dread instantly stream down my cheeks.
I know I must get my emotions under control. I want to wipe my eyes, but I know I do not dare move my arms from their present position. Cautiously, I slowly lift my shoulders to my face so that I can rub my eyes on my old, battered, white gown.
Knowing that I am not allowed to move unless I am told to, I stop and let my shoulders rest, praying with all my heart that my actions were unseen.
It is then when I realize that I no longer hear his footsteps. I become paranoid. I have to know where he is. I have to be prepared.
Never moving my head from its present position, I open my eyes and quickly scan the room.
Through my tear filled eyes I see his old, dirty tennis shoes. He is now standing in front of me. The room, eerily silent as he stands within inches from me. Afraid of his intentions, my heart skips a beat, I begin to sweat; and my muscles begin to tense.
Every instinct that I have yells, “Run, Lue! Run.”
I want to listen to the voice in my head but I know I do not dare. There is no escape. There is nothing I can do but sit and await the punishment that I know he is about to put upon me.
Time slowly passes by as he continues to stand in front of me without movement. My eyes begin to burn but I am afraid to close them; afraid that the moment I do he will disappear, leaving with the question as to where he has gone. The silence is unnerving. I try not to move, but my body becomes sore and tired in its present position. I begin to fidget. My hand begins to slip from my lap. Quickly, I try to reposition my hand in hopes that he has not seen it move. Unfortunately I am not that lucky. He grabs my hand and begins to squeeze it with such intensity that a bruise instantly takes over my wrist. Pain shoots through my wrist and up my arm. Instantly my eyes fill with fresh tears.
I do not dare scream. I bite my lip as the pain becomes overwhelming. An unwelcome taste now fresh in my mouth, I slowly feel my bottom lip with my tongue. My lips are wet and slimy. I peek down and see that I have bitten through my lip to the point that blood is dripping onto the floor.
I try to keep my emotions under control, but the pain that he is continuing to put upon me is more then I can take. A slight whimper escapes from within me.
Afraid of what he may do next, I sit as still as I possibly can. I breathe in hesitance, ensuring that I do not make another sound nor move again, not even in the slightest. As silence continues and the torture remains, my fear heightens; I have to know what he has in mind for me.
Through squinted eyes I look over to where I know he is standing. I get a glimpse of his hand wrapped around my wrist. His knuckles are as white as snow, indicating the amount of pressure he is inflicting on my fragile bones. I want to look up at him and apologize for moving in such a way that I have broken his rules.
“If he would just look into my blue eyes and see the pain he is causing me, maybe he will spare me for any further pain,” a little voice inside me insists.
“No, he won’t!” I argue within myself. “He loves to see you in pain. He will never release you if you show him your agony! You know that. You’re twenty- nine years old. Now quit acting like a baby and do what you know you have to do.”
Coming to terms with myself and what needs to be done, I sit and wait, praying that he soon release me.
The silence is broke as a loud growl overtakes the immediate area. Suddenly and with great power he releases me from within his grasp. I am caught off-guard and do not have time to react. My hand slams onto the hard floor besides me. His growling is no longer perceptible to my ears, only the sound of the bones within my hand cracking as the floor is as unforgiving as he. The pain that I felt before is nothing to the agony that I am now experiencing.
Afraid to try and move my newly broken hand, I let it rest on the floor. I am in excruciating pain and want to cry, but I know if I do I will suffer even more painful consequences. I have no other choice but to keep my head pointed toward the ground and my feelings prisoner inside me. I will never show him the pain I am enduring.
As time slowly passes, seconds begin feeling like hours and minutes into days. I know he is not done with me yet, but what I do not know, is what will happen next. Without warning, I feel his power as he grabs my hair and whips my head back toward him. He is now standing behind me!
Suddenly, I am staring at the darkness that keeps me here. His true identity never to be seen, he is wearing a mask that hugs his face like a second skin. I continue to stare, studying his physique as if I am studying a piece of impressionistic art.
Although I have no way of knowing what he truly looks like, something about him I find hypnotizing. I try to look away, but I can’t. His eyes look like empty, bottomless holes; the blackness pulling me in further and further until I am in a trance. I am no longer under my own power. I continue to stare.
“It is like he has no soul,” I think to myself.
As if he has heard my silent words, he chuckles.
Still holding a fistful of my dirty, blonde hair, he smiles as he wipes the tears from my cheeks.
“Is something wrong?” he asks in a devilish tone.
I am afraid to say anything, but at the same time I am afraid not to answer him. Without warrant my answer slips from my mouth.
“Nothing wrong here. Just another day in paradise,” I smirk, as he continues to whip my head in every direction.
The entire time those dreadful words are coming out of my mouth, I know what I am saying is wrong. I can’t help it. I am in pain and out of patience. I take in a deep breath, roll my eyes, and shake my head in disbelief. What have I done? How could I have let myself slip that way? I close my eyes in fear and wait the punishment I know is my only destiny.
With a chuckle, my captor whips my head toward the ground, releasing my hair from his clutches. Instantly the muscles in my neck and shoulders burn, feeling as if a hot poker has just been stabbed into the back of my neck.
I roll my neck around and lift my shoulders trying to relieve the pain. When I realize what I am doing, I instantly stop. Hysteria has now set in. Not only have I spoken in a tone that I am sure he deems inappropriate, I moved without permission. This is it; I know I will be hurt again. I just don’t know how.
“I think, ‘it’s’ going to cry,” he says to me with an evil laugh.
“My name is Lue. I am twenty-nine years old. I live in small town called Swan Valley. I have a mother. I have a father. I have a fiancé, who loves me dearly. His name is Kamrin,” I say in a soft whimper. “I am not an “it”. I am a woman.”
“I guess with that little bit of information, you are now wanting to know something about me?” he asks in the utmost condescending voice.
He walks back over to my side and pauses where my hand lies.
“Let’s play a game,” he says. “I know how old you are. Now I want you to know a little more about me.”
Suddenly, I feel a breeze against my arm as he slams his heel harder and harder onto the ground next to me, each time coming closer to my hand.
“I am going to continue doing this until you guess my age.” He laughs. “So you better start guessing quickly; the heel of my shoe is getting closer to those little fingers of yours.”
Each time the heel of his shoe nicks my skin, he laughs. His disturbing laughter fills the room. He is enjoying the sick game he is playing.
“You’re thirty-five!” I scream.
“Wrong!” He laughs as he slams his foot down closer to my fingers.
“Forty,” I cry.
“Wrong again!” He laughs.
I feel the rubber of his shoe knick my pinky.
“Think,” I demand upon myself.
I try to concentrate on his voice, hoping that I will get an indication to how old he is. I have to get the answer right soon, or I will suffer another fracture.
“Twenty-nine!” I scream. “Twenty-nine!”
As quickly as it all began, it is over. Never saying another word, he turns and walks away.
“I guess I got it right,” I say within myself. “What a
Sick bastard!”
A sense of relief overcomes me, and I pray
that I am safe for now.
I peek through the corner of my eyes and watch as he walks up the stairs toward the door leading out of the “hellhole” he keeps me in. I am safe; my punishment is over. I take in a deep breath and look over at my arm that still lie paralyzed in pain. I am amazed by the bruise that has taken over my entire hand and wrist. I try to move it, but the pain is too intense.
I am exhausted from the anguish I just had encountered; I need a minute before I try to get up and bandage my hand.
I lie on the ground and look up at the moldy ceiling and stare at the chipped paint, imagining they are stars and that I am lying in a plush green field.
I begin to cry. Within moments, I cry myself into hysterics. I am tired, lonesome, and all I want is for this torture and pain to end. I just want to be left alone, and if this is the place I am to die, I wish it would happen without my mind or body enduring any more pain.
A sudden burst of laughter echoes throughout the room. The floor beneath me begins to shake. Startled by the movement of the room and the loud laughter, I leap up and in one movement sit back into a kneeling position.
Evil is back!
“Although you won the game, you still need to learn your lesson!” he screams in my ear.
Before I can prepare myself for any of his hateful doings, he begins to place the heel of his foot onto my broken hand, crushing my bones beneath it. A new wave of agonizing pain overtakes my arm. Angrier then ever I leave my pain unseen…unheard. I will not allow a sound to escape my mouth this time.
“I will not give in to him . . . I will not give him that pleasure,” I think to myself.
My silence angers him even more. He finds it exhilarating to see me in pain, I know that is why he has come back. He has to see more. He desires to keep hurting me until I scream. I will not. I can not do it! This is my only way of
getting back at him. I have to make certain that I do not show him any emotion at all.
It is a fight against good and evil; he will not give in, nor will I. He continues pressing harder and harder onto my knuckles until he is sure there is not a bone left unbroken. The pain is overwhelming. My plan of action is not working. He is not going to stop this time until I finally apologize and give him the pleasure that he is so desiring. Evil will conquer once again.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to break the rules,” I
whimper.
“Did you learn your lesson?” the man asks in an eerie tone.
“Yes, sir, I did,” I answer in a soft, apologetic voice.
“And what lesson did you learn?” he asks.
“Not to move unless told to,” I cry. “And?” he continues.
“Never to speak to you in such a sarcastic manner,” I answer softly.
Satisfied with my answers, he slowly removes his foot from my hand and walks away.
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