Kidnapped by a Psychopath | {18+}

Kidnapped by a Psychopath- Chapter 17

(Important chapter ;) )

AMBER RAIN:

"Death is not beautiful."

   The first time I ever saw a dead body wasn't in person. I was about six at the time and hadn't really taken in the full extent of what I was seeing. I was such an imaginative explorer type when I was younger and my family moved houses every couple of years (or less) because of my dad's company, which just added to my little adventures. Each house was different, ranging from an average suburban to small mansions. I was an only child and my only stable, reliable friend was myself for the majority of my childhood. I spent hours, days even, exploring every inch of my new homes, the neighborhoods, and the landscape around them. I loved clever hiding spots and I loved the history that came with new homes. The past was engraved into the walls and floor, the architecture dripping with the emotions and lifestyles of the previous owners. It made me calm, it made me feel safe in the unknown, oddly.

   One day, about three days into our new home along the outskirts of New York, in the countryside, I had began to explore like usual. Ithaca, New York was one of my most memorable homes. It had such a naturally stunning environment, was on the more secluded side, and was seeped in local culture. Our house was definitely on the larger side. Even at such a young age I distinctly remember always comparing it to a small castle where I could play the part of a beautiful princess.

My mother wasn't around as much when I was little but less and less as developed into a teenager. She was always away in different parts of the world because she was a commercial pilot. My mother wasn't the abusive type, hardly had a mean bone her body. She always was around when it was necessary; occasions like Christmas and Easter she always made time for. I knew she loved me, but I also knew she didn't want to be around. Nova Rain was always on edge, one could see she was always looking off into the distance as if some part of her was vacant. Her hands were always entwined as she twiddled her fingers absentmindedly, and her left foot tapped at an erratic pace when she was forced to sit at a spot longer than ten minutes. I remember staring at her when I was younger, her jittery behavior reminding me of the exaggerated animations on TV that showed people moving six times the speed of a regular human. She was merely something I observed in curiosity. When I was younger, I was truly blind to the terrible things she was facing behind closed doors.

Jax Rain didn't mind distance. My father seemed more at peace, more free when my mother was gone. I couldn't ever tell if their marriage was on rocky grounds, if he was truly just a more independent soul, or he was just hiding something. . . something he didn't want to be exposed.

As a naive six-year-old I was very observant but very ignorant, which I understood after I met Caden. Jax Rain was completely two-faced, completely off from reality, and a toxic danger who ruined everything he touched.

When I began exploring the beautiful new mansion in Ithaca I new I wouldn't be able to stop, due to the excitement seeping through my fingertips, unless the whole palace was under my eye and I memorized every feature.

I was clad in a frilly pink tutu that had long strands falling just below my wobbly knees. I wore a stained white T-shirt designed with a sparkly outline of a pink tiara right in the middle. My white converse- now almost completely brown and practically decomposing from my constant 'adventures' outside- squeaked against the polished wood tiles as I skipped through the mansion halls.

My uncoordinated fingers had tried to throw my dark curls up into a crisp bun, the kind my mom always had, but it was extremely sloppy. The bun rested more on the left side of my skull and the band only captured about half my curls, the other half falling around my chubby cheeks. I still couldn't help my toothy smile.