The Girl Who Stopped Time

Why me?

Everything seems to be in slow motion, yet it moves too fast for me to comprehend. I barely take notice to when Atlas exits my room. I have a faint memory of a lock being turned, locking me inside. I suppose he still thinks that I'm going to try and escape this terrible hell.

...he isn't wrong.

I don't think I'll ever stop trying to escape. If no one's looking for me then I guess I have to be my own knight in shining armor. This time the savior is going to be the princess in the tower. Now I just have to figure out how to get rid of the dragon.

He's strong, which I'm sure I've mentioned before, but he's also powerful. My mind drifts off to when I first asked him what his name was. He said he was "Time". Could that be true? Could he seriously be Time? There's no way.

I have to be strong. If I can't do it physically then I must do it mentally. I can't lose myself here.

When he spoke to me, he acted as if hope was completely gone. He said that I was "all his", as if he owned me. As if the very aspect of me being trapped here forever wasn't enough for his twisted mind. He had to add in that "I am all his". Whatever the hell that means.

The ringing in my ears transfers into a jiggling, more specifically the doorknob being turned. In less than a moment the door swings open and Atlas saunters in again. His dark hair is tussled and shifted in un natural directions. I begin to question the mess on top of his head but he answers my question by bringing his hand up to run through his raven locks. Tossing it around more.

"Come on" he gestures for me to follow. "I need to show you something." Then just like that he walks out of the room, leaving me behind.

I follow him in a daze, no longer wanting to stay in the room which I assume is his. He takes four or five twists and turns then finally stops at a brown wooden door on the right. It has swirling designs on it that cover pretty much the whole thing. Unlike the other doors in this house it has a handle instead of knob. It's very beautiful.

He looks at me expectantly as I stand in front of it. I turn towards him and plaster a look of confusion on my face. What does he want now?

He just rolls his eyes at me. "Open it." He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I haven't exactly had the best luck with doors opening for me here." I shoot back at him.

"Just open the door."

I turn towards the door and grab the handle, pushing the door open. I walk into the room to find that it's almost an exact replica of the room at my house, except everything is opposite. My bed with the white duvet on top and brown headboard sits on the right side of the room instead of the left. My vanity/desk is across the room from it, my hair brush and pictures of my one or two only friends from high school sit on top of it. There's no mirror in the vanity, it had broken when I was fifteen when I threw my hairbrush at it; I was angry at my parents. They bought me the full-length mirror that hangs on my closet door to make up for it. My white dresser is to the right of me, it has an AG carved into the side. I got a knife and put that on it when I first got it, I thought it would be fun to carve my name on something. Last but not least a picture of me and my parents is on the wall next to my bay window. No one is smiling.

"How?" My voice gets caught in my throat. "I distinctly remember packing this stuff away in boxes. My mom had told me-" I cut myself off realizing exactly what my parents had done. That's why my mom had me pack all my things. I thought it was just a way for her to cope. Dread feels my stomach once again. "How could they?" I whisper. My own parents.

"I believe it was your mother who told you." He said, his voice suddenly right next to my ear. "It was the only way... to stop the clock."

My eyes widen at the revelation. I turn around instantly and back away from him. "So, it's true what you said? You are Time." I state.

"Yes, it's true." He says. "You may continue to call me Atlas though.

"Why would my parents giving me to you, make you stop the clock? They tried so many things. It doesn't make any sense."

"They tried so many people, not things. People." He corrects me. "The only reason I put up the clock was to find a certain... someone for myself. Which just so happened to be you, sweetheart."

"Someone for yourself? That's what this is about? You were willing to kill everyone on earth because you were fudging lonely?!" I yell at him, letting my anger spill.

"Language, sweetheart" he says sweetly, making fun of my substitute swear word. "We wouldn't want those nasty words tainting those delicious lips."

My face twists up in disgust. "You're unbelievable."

"Better start believing it, sweetheart." He says.

"Stop calling me that." I snap at him.

He only chuckles at my suspense, jackass.

"Why me, though?" I say changing the subject a little. "I'm no different from anyone else, why did you take me?" Maybe if I try hard enough, I can convince him that there is someone better.

Though, I don't know if I would ever want to wish this upon another person.

He stands there and just watches me. His eyes wander over every crevice of my body, taking even the smallest things into consideration. I feel so much vulnerability with him doing this. It's like he can see right through me.

"You are so much different in person then I imagined you'd be." He mumbles, which I barely hear.

"Pardon?" I ask, hoping he'll repeat his quiet sentence.

"You look tired." He says, though I know that is not what he said before. "You should get some rest." He says then walks towards the door.

"Wait!" I say, as I chase after him. "Answer my questions. I deserve answers, you- you coward!"

He reaches the door and slams it shut before I can reach it. I hear the lock click, but I still try the handle anyways. I hear his footsteps fade away down the hall. He can't just keep locking me in rooms when he doesn't want to talk anymore! It's really annoying.

"Why me?!" I yell out as I bang my hands against the door. I hit it repeatedly until my energy is depleted. A single salty tear runs down my face and I feel it slip under my chin. I slide to the ground, and lay my head against the door. "Why me?" I whisper out, feeling hopeless. I've shed many tears in my room, but these ones feel different.

Maybe because this time there is no way for me to escape them, or myself.

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