The Academy: Uncaged

2. Janette

A/N//: Alright peeps. MERRY CHRISTMAS! I'm back again, and I'm so excited for you to read this chapter. I've been leading up to this for so long, and honestly, I got emotional writing. I sincerely hope you enjoy! Also, I updated early cause I seriously couldn't wait anymore!!! SO PLEASE ENJOY! From this point on, I'll be back on my monthly update schedule until I finish the entire book. I'm in the home stretch, guys!

Idea Man: AHHHHHH LET'S GOOOO!!!

Janette

Entry 1:

"You have brain cancer. With how aggressive it is, we only give you two years at best, and that's if you do the treatments. Otherwise, we give you nine months..."

That's how my doctors broke the news that I was dying. It wasn't as if I didn't already have a hunch, though. Sure. I didn't know it was brain cancer, but something hadn't felt right for a while, I guess. Everytime I looked in the mirror, it was like my skin had taken on this sickly pallor. And honestly, being a woman of color, that was hard to do. My momma always said that "black don't crack," but I guess that didn't apply to cancer. And the sickly hue my skin took was the final straw that forced me to see the doctors. I was hoping they were going to tell me that it was anemia or something. It would explain why I was always cold and why my skin didn't have the same glow that it used to. But no. It was just cancer leeching the life from my body.

And my options were laid bare on the table from the get go. To anyone around me, the choice is obvious. Get the treatment that will inevitably make me feel sicker, live two more short but fulfilling years, and die a sad, tragic death. Or don't get the treatment, feel pretty damn normal on some days, and die sooner. To the doctors it's obvious, but to me it's a two year sentence to my own misery.

So what did I decide?

I'm taking the nine months, no hesitation. It's not like I have any family. Momma died when I was seventeen, and it had only ever been the two of us. What do I have to live for? I have friends, yeah, but people die, and life moves on. They'll move on without me. And sure, nineteen years old is pretty damn early to pull the plug, but then again, I'm going to die anyway. What does it matter if I die at nineteen instead of twenty-one?

What I plan to do with those nine months, of course, is up in the air, but I'll figure it out eventually.

Entry 2:

Well, I moved across the world and I've found where I'm going to spend the rest of my days. The Academy of Submission. As a submissive. Living my kinky sex life to the fullest.

Yep. Curveball.

Okay. I figure I should probably start with how the fuck I ended up at "the Academy", as most people seem to dub it. Honestly, I'm still pretty surprised. Did I think that I would end up in this huge, medieval castle in the middle of Europe? Hell the fuck no. But I'm here, and it is what it is. How I got her though is the interesting part.

I've had this friend since grade school. Her name is Emma. She was a few years older than me, and she came from a very affluent and well-off family. And by the time she graduated, she had an entry into her fathers company. She made great money. And I was the kind of person who didn't abuse that. We were just friends. She was just Emma.

Well, when the ball dropped that I was, you know, dying, she turned me into her Make-A-Wish kid. Completely ignoring the fact that, you know, I'm way too old to be a Make-A-Wish kid.

She asked me what I wanted before I died, and at first, I told her that I didn't want anything except a quiet, peaceful end. She said that there had to be something that I wanted before I inevitably kicked the bucket, so you know what? I thought up something insane. Something that she couldn't possibly fulfill.