The Slut's Story (#wattys2019)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Since I was a little kid, I used to enjoy getting lost. I was adventurous, but I often got myself into trouble when my parents would get really worried. Like that one time I got lost in the mall when I was ten and I didn't even remember my parents' phone numbers. They didn't find me until an hour later. From then onwards, they were ready to tattoo their numbers on my arms.

Or that other time I learned how to ride a bicycle and just fled off. After exploring for a long time, I finally came back home, only to see my mom cry. My mother never cried. She was brave that I would find my way back. But after I got kidnapped, I never could find my way back to the place I used to call home. I tried. That was the first time I ended in failure.

For the first time, I was afraid of getting lost.

The window was fully open, letting the air into the room. That was one reason to open the window, but I had something else in mind. I used my knee pads that I had for volleyball and my elbow pads from my bike. I thought it was lucky that there was a tree right outside my window. So I started to climb down it. It took me a little while to get to the ground, but I made it.

I didn't know where to go. I was new to the town, even the state. I enjoyed getting lost, but finding my way around this town means that I would be here forever. I can't do that. I have to get out of here as soon as possible. It's for the best.

I ran as fast as I could, trying to get away from the house. As I ran farther and farther, the house started getting smaller and smaller, then turning in the size of an ant. I wanted it to be like that. I wanted the house to disappear, the man in that house to disappear, but mostly, the bad memories in that house to disappear. They were all bad, since the beginning.

I didn't want to look back at the house, but I still did, hoping it was the reality that I was finally getting freedom after the third try. That's what they say, right? Third time's the charm. But it wasn't.

It's funny how we say something and just jinx it, right? In this case, it's not funny.

The wind stopped blowing against my face as I rammed into a hard chest. The black clothes that the person was wearing were almost impossible to recognize that there was actually someone there in the darkness surrounding me. My heart raced more than it was when I was running. I tried running away from the man, but he grabbed my loose hair, fisting it. I yelped and wriggled, trying to get away from him. I knew it wasn't going to work; he was almost twice my size.

A painful couple of seconds passed until my heart almost stopped. A black van, the same one from the house, parked right beside the abandoned road.

Only God knew when I was pushed into the van, only to see the guy from the house. That kidnapper, that molester. I knew what was happening. I was backed up against the door of the van, but I couldn't do anything to stop him. My clothes were ripped off, and his hands-

I gasped, running a hand through my hair. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head rapidly to get rid of the thoughts. I looked to the passenger seat of the car, to see my two "friends" knocking on the window. I gave them a fake smile, something that looked real, and got out of the car, wearing my backpack. It's not like Mean Girls where Regina George and her gang would get away with not getting their backpacks to school. I tried that once and I got kicked out of the class because nothing except my makeup fit in the handbag.

And that was my favorite class, Biology.

"Hey girls. Let's go, or else we might get late to class." I giggled like an idiot. I had to act.