Making You Mine

Chapter 9

Denial

Y/n POV

I look out of the window. I've got to get out of here. Yesterday's incident keeps coming to mind. I couldn't even close my eyes. Every time I did, that horrible image comes up. My mind races with every way I can think of to escapade, until one comes up.

The bookshelf.

I can't believe I forgot about the bookshelf, the latch behind it must lead to a room where I an escape. I stand up, the first in awhile and stretch, my bones cracking due to lack of use. I rub my arms, shivering. There's barely any fat in my body but with two whole days of not eating, I'm losing what I had fast. I walk towards the shelf and immediately start pushing, hope building with every inch the shelf moves. Maybe I can get out of here. Maybe I can make it to the outside world and escape this murderer. I thought he seemed to care about me, but he killed my family and I bet he wants to kill me! I have to get out, this shelf is my only hope. I push till I can reach in and mess with the latch handle.

It opens.

My heart races as I push and push, my arms working harder than ever, I push it almost all the way past the latch. Before I take another step, a clinking sound can be heard.

No.

Please no!

Not him... please, anyone but him. I'm almost free and now he's come?! He hasn't come all of today and now?!!? Why?! I quickly push a sewing mannequin to cover the latch. (Idk what that ting is called lol) I scramble to my bed and pull the covers over just as he enters. Probably took him time cause of the amount of locks on the door.

"Hey kitten, I have something for you~" my heart drops and my face pales, making me look like a dead body completely. Please don't be another head, please! He hands me a flat box, good. A sign it can't be a head. I ignore him as he places it on the bed beside me before stroking my head, it sent shivers up my spine before making me feel warm and relaxed.

It's weird, I always feel relaxed and comfortable when he touches me, even though I shouldn't.

Waiting till he leaves, I crawl out and open the box. For some reason, the box seemed more important than escaping. I unwrap it to uncover a journal. A slick black leather covering with yellowish papers bound to it with string, a flower carving on the cover. It was mesmerizing and as I stroked  its soothing yet uneven cover, the thought of escaping came to me. I quickly drop the book and before moving another thought came to my mind.

The shackles.

I sit down and immediately begin trying to get the shackles off. The tightness that only hurts when pulled yet is bearable to only a certain extent. I pull till my feet bled, and even then, I continued to pull.

I pulled them off, blood coating my feet, but for freedom it's a price I'll pay.

I wrap them quickly up in some torn clothes before grabbing the journal and grabbing a pen.

"Dear self,

Hopefully I won't ever read this again, I'll be gone from this place. My feet hurt and I can barely stand without excruciating pain, however, if it's to escape, it's alright. I'll probably never even see this notebook again, but I do like it, even though he gave it to me. Still it's very beautiful and quite nice, if I do see it again, I'll write more.

I place the journal on the desk and open the latch, before carefully crawling in. I look ahead and see light, hopefully it's the outside...

Again! Sorry with the late updates!!!! 😭