I'm not sure, just half written books I guess?

the freeing of a trapped existence: Part 1

so some of this is re-uploaded, but it just didn't work the amount I had up.

Boom. The heavy door bangs open, and I am shocked out of my uneasy sleep. I have been trapped in this dungeon for almost three years, and my exhausted body groans at the thought of the day.

Wiping crusty sleep from my eyes, I look up. Wait, no. I-, I'm dreaming. Right?

"Liam?" Tears start dripping from my cheek, and I run up to him. He's exactly like I thought he would be. And well, let's just say puberty has been a gift. I know he isn't conventionally good looking, but the years spent dreaming about seeing him again has made me miss his crooked smile and lanky body. It's like heaven being in his arms again.

"I-, you came back for me. You didn't forget me." His smile looks almost fake, why-, no. No no no no.

"I'll always come back for you Liam." No no no no no.

"I've missed you so much Li Li, you have no idea." I think I do have a pretty good idea.

I hit his chest again and again, screaming.

"Why? Why again? I'm sorry! I've said sorry!! I hate you, I hate you!" My happy tears turn to anger and despair, as I sit up in bed, scrambling to get rid of the evidence I've been crying.

I hate sleeping. Everytime I sleep, I'm reminded of the love I'll never have, the life I'll never have, the story that will only end. I will never forget Jayden, the man that stalks my dreams every night in this prison.

Jacob Black from Twilight was my first boy crush, the first time I thought, "Mmm, maybe you don't actually like girls, Liam," was at twelve. Then it was a girl called Dominique, who was the one that made me think, "Hmm, maybe you like both genders, Liam," at thirteen. Then it was only when I met Rowen, a Non-Binary monarch that formed my knowedge of gender, and how there was many more than two. They were the one that made me think, "Hmm, maybe I don't need a sexuallity. Maybe I can fuck who I want and it not be confusing," at fifteen.

That mentality lasted for about three weeks, before I realized that yep, I definitely like boys more, and that I am most definitely Bi, with a preference for dudes. Some people dont mind not having labels, but I need them to feel safe. It's how I am comfortable with myself.

I get changed, not caring about the camera in the corner. They've seen a lot worse than me naked, trust me.

Waving to the blank stare from the lens, what I call bill from security, I do some push ups. After about seventy, I start doing sit ups. Exercise is the thing that got me through this thing, and I won't be stopping for a while. When I'm panting and my limbs are aching, I walk back to the bed, and lift up one of the beams. Inside are my treasures. I move my body so it looks like I'm resting, and look in. A complicated root, twisting around and around. I had it in my pocket when I was captured. A little black book, so small that it blends with the shadows in the corners. A pink jell pen, halfway to the end with ink. But the thing I reach for is the small piece of old metal, sharpened until it could cut flesh. I haven't used it on anyone.

Yet.

I walk to the other end of the room, making sure Bob from security can't see the blade. Rubbing my finger along the edge of the make-shift weapon, it's so sharp, it draws a spec of blood on my finger. Good.

I scrape the metal on the wall and it makes a horrible screeching sound. I rub my long sweaty hair away from my eyes, and step back. 1147 marks, and trust me, I've counted many, many times. Three long, bloody, heart paining years. How did I survive?