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it, not knowing whose house it was, but the kids did. And as soon as he was in, they ran like scattering cats.
    He made it to my kitchen before I picked him up by his collar and he screamed. He didn’t think anyone was home, the house was dark. He thought he was earning points, trying to get in with the cool crowd at school. He got neither, except kids that bully him and possibly a father that beats him. Could be worse. I know a lot of people who’ve had worse.

 
     

    My head hurts, my leg hurts, my shoulders hurt. Everything hurts. I try to sit, but I can’t move. My legs and hands are not cooperating, so I try again—nothing. The sun’s coming in. it’s hot, making me sweat. I look around, and that’s when I notice my hands tied back and my legs tied down. I kick, scream, and try to break free, but I’m not strong enough. I’m too weak. I need something, I need that next hit. More than I need food that my stomach craves.
    I hear a noise and close my eyes. Pretending I’m sleeping, I can hear each heavy step on the floor, coming closer. It stops in front of me, and I squeeze my eyes tighter, not knowing who or what this man wants.
    “Don’t hurt me,” I whisper, opening my eyes. A man stands in front of me, a very tall and dangerous looking man. He’s scary, and I know scary from the people I’d hung around. This man in front of me stands confident, stoic, and sleek, and gives off a vibe of self-importance with a 'don't fuck with me' attitude displayed in his facial features, causing my intimidation levels to rise.
    He’s dressed impeccably and wearing a suit jacket, black slacks, and a white shirt. It seems strange that he doesn’t have a tie on though. I guess that’s not his style. He lifts his hand slightly and I see a very expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. It’s encased in diamonds, and my mind goes to straight to stealing it, seeing how much money I could get for a watch like that.
    He moves closer, his mouth tight. His beard is long, roguish, and his hair long, but slightly reminded me of a mohawk, though it’s stylish. His face doesn’t give anything away, and he just looks at me like he can see right through me.
    “I will do anything,” I say, pulling on my restraints. He leans forward, lifting whatever is in his hand and putting his hand on the back of my neck. He lifts me up, putting a glass of water to my lips. I look to him one last time before I put my lips to the glass. His eyes looked familiar, I know those eyes. They’re green but mixed with something else. I can’t put my finger on it.
    I drink every drop, and he checks the glass before he stands up straight. He doesn’t look back at me when he walks out the door, shutting it firmly behind him, followed by the click of a lock.
    Great! I’m his fucking prisoner.
    He comes in the next day, but I barely remember. My head hurts and my body aches. He takes me to the bathroom and I try to kick him in the leg. It doesn’t faze him, not in the slightest. It’s like I hadn’t touched him at all.
    I was screaming so hard.
    “Just one hit!” I’m desperate. I need it, my body needs it.
    “I’ll do anything,” I scream again, hoping he’ll hear me and have some compassion. Nothing, he never comes back that day. I stay tied to the bed, covered in sweat, my own filth, and freezing cold.
    Each day becomes a routine—water, bread, and toilet. Once a day, that’s all he gives me.
    I screamed, screamed so much, but my cries were going unanswered. My screams unnoticed.
    A week I stay strapped to the bed, barely remembering when he came. It feels like a week, but it could have been months. I wouldn’t know.
    My brain is playing tricks on me, making all the bad thoughts sneak their way back in, remembering things I tried to forget. Things I couldn’t deal with.
    I was counting, counting each and every crack in the walls and the roof. Anything to get my mind off what was consuming it.
    Then the door opens and a girl walks in.