Heehee, I'm back(:

I did mention something about outtakes at one point, didn't I?
Well, I always make good on my promises. Always.

So here it is - the first out of three outtakes for Face Down.
Actually, this one's more of an "extra", but still...

I wasn't even sure if I was going to write this at first, but I felt you all deserved it.
It was hard to write, but in the end, worth it. Knowing how important this story is to some of you just warms my heart.
Here you go -- My Thanksgiving gift to you.

Oh, and if you're not tired of me yet, why don't you head on over to check out my new story; The Runaways.


I sat in the front passenger seat of my dad's BMW, looking out the window, wondering where we were going. It was past ten o'clock, and the streets were lit up by the busy shops and clubs of downtown Chicago.

I wondered briefly what it would be like to live somewhere else – Somewhere quiet and remote. Somewhere that had fresh, clean air, and somewhere that you didn't always have to worry about getting mugged and watching your back. I sighed quietly to myself. Yeah, wouldn't that be the life.

Phil was speeding down the roads at his usual fifty-mile-per hour speed, even though we were only in a thirty zone. I would have told him to slow down, but I was used to this. Well, his driving, actually. I wasn't used to going anywhere with him.

In fact, I still hadn't figured out where we going yet, or what his plans were. Esme had left long before we did, and was out working her night-shift. A pang of sadness filled me – I never got to spend any time with my mom anymore; always left home alone with my bastard of a father. Even though I couldn't say it out loud or to his face, it felt good to think.

I considered asking him where we were going for a minute. After all, it was a Tuesday night and I hadn't completely finished my homework yet. I was sure that if Esme knew I wasn't at home right now, she'd be flat out pissed.

It wasn't my fault though – If Phil asked me to do something, I'd do it no questions asked. It had always been that way. I didn't obey because I wanted to, I obeyed because I had to.

All I ever wanted in life was my father's love.

Plus even though I hated my father, no matter who you were, being out late at night with your dad was cool. It just. . .was. Besides, Paul always talked about how him and his dad made late-night trips to the grocery store to buy all sorts of bad junk food. Maybe that's what it would be like tonight. Maybe my dad was actually wanting to bond with me.

Suddenly we came to a screeching stop as we halted in front of an unfamiliar looking restaurant. He ordered me to get out of the car. Once I was out, I got a closer look at the place we were about to enter. It wasn't a restaurant at all – It was a bar. Judging by the couple passed out women on the sidewalk nearby, I was guessing it was also a strip club.

Instead of getting excited, like a normal thirteen year-old boy would in a situation like this, a flood of nerves raged through me, and I began to feel very uneasy. What was he up to?

Without even thinking about it, my feet had ended up staying locked in their position by the car – stiff and unmoving. I was unsure of what to do. My father, noticing that I wasn't right behind him, suddenly sped around in my direction.

"What the hell are you doing, Edward?" His voice was almost like a poisonous acid, and threat seeped through the surface.

"I was just. . .um. . ." I paused, stuttering. My eyes met his, and found them to be cold and hostile. They almost even scared me a bit. I had that same gut feeling in me, telling me that something about this was wrong, but I went against my better judgment.

Quickly hustling to his side, I decided that if this was what would make him like me, I'd do it. I'd do anything; anything to have him love me for once in my life. Once I was at his side, a curt smile spread up at the corners of his mouth. "You were saying?"

"Nothing." I mumbled as we walked up the steps and to the doors.

I had never been in a bar before. Obviously. But even though I had nothing to base my observations off of, I was fairly positive that this was nothing like your average bar. Come to think of it, it probably wasn't even like your average strip club either.

I honestly didn't know where the hell we were.

What was even more disturbing was the fact that no one had even checked for an ID from me, or to see if I was even twenty-one. I could already tell that this place probably wasn't the most legal place to be.

I kept telling myself over and over again that if I played it off cool, Phil wouldn't hate me as much. I hoped, at least. Otherwise I was basically fucked. Royally.

If I got caught here by someone from school, I wouldn't be able to play football anymore for school, I'd probably get suspended or expelled, and sent to one of those creepy learning centers for effed up kids on drugs and alcohol. Fortunately for me, I was on neither, so I was fairly certain that my ass would not sit well in a place like that.

Still though, the thought gave me the creeps, so I decided that playing it cool and laying low would be the way to go. Besides, it's not like any adult from my school was actually going to be here. . .right?

The room we were in was spacious, yet crowded with flocks of people; the lighting was dark and mysterious, and colors danced around on the walls as the music blasted out of loud amps on the walls.

I remained right at Phil's side, unsure of where I was suppose to go otherwise. Before I knew it though, I was being shoved aside by a tall, blond woman in underwear and heels.

"Philly!" She cried, throwing her arms around my dad. I watched in awe as she shoved her lips to his and he kissed her back. "I've missed you! You haven't been here in like forever." She lowered her head, making her eyes sultry and mysterious.

"It has been too long, hasn't it, love?" Before I knew it, she was gone as soon as she had came. Before I could ask who that was, or express my feelings of shock and disapprovement to him, another young woman appeared out of no where and was now grabbing his crotch while pressing her chest in his face.

Just like the other one, he had not pushed her away, like a married man should have. I suddenly felt completely enraged at him. How could he do this to Esme? I mean, I had suspected that he had been cheating on her a couple of times, but still. Now that the fact was right in front of me, it sent waves of pain through my body. Did he have any idea of what this would do to her if she ever found out?

He may not have loved her that much, but to her, he was the world. As much as I had always hated him, I always respected the fact that my mother was in love with him. Or, at least she thought she was. Hell, I wouldn't know either way. I wasn't a girl.

After the other girl moved on, he began making his way through the loads of skanks and hoes. I mean, don't get me wrong – these ladies were as hot as hell and whatnot, but it was obvious that they were sluts and whores. Or, in a simpler term: easy. I knew that all of them were really just trash, and that they were only desperate.

Just like every other opinion I had about this place though, I kept my mouth shut and watched as Phil ordered a large glass of Miller.

I sat at the bar with him while he waited for his beer, trying not to draw any attention to myself. A few girls, in their early twenties I'd guess, shot me cute grins and smiles, but I just ignored them. I didn't want to get in trouble with any body. I didn't want to make Phil mad.

The bar tender slid him his over-filled glass as foam spilled on to the already sticky counter. Everything about this place was shit, as a matter of fact.

Unexpectedly, Phil slid the glass over in front of me, causing more of it to spill on the counter. "Here, boy," He said in an appraising tone, "Drink up." I stared at him, waiting for him to pull it away and tell me he was joking. I waited, but it never came. Instead, he just sat there, silently judging me. I hated when he looked at me like that – like I was some goddamn science experiment.

"I don't think I'm sup–. . ." I started, but he cut me off abruptly.

"Drink it." His tone was final, and harsh.

Afraid of how he would react if I refused, I quickly took a large gulp of it in my mouth. Grimacing once I had time to process the taste, I refrained from spitting it back up and all over him. I hadn't ever drank before, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Now, I could safely say that this stuff was fucking disgusting.

"I'm going to go and talk to some people," He told me, once he was pleased that I had gotten a few sips in me. I couldn't not drink it with him sitting there watching me – Even though I was fairly positive that it tasted like fizzing squirrel pee.

I nodded, biting my lip not to protest or say anything. What I really wanted was to leave this place immediately, but by the looks of it, I knew that wouldn't be happening any time soon.

"Oh, and Bill?" he waved the bartender over, "Get him another once he's finished with this one; Make sure he drinks 'em both, 'aight?" My stomach instantly became uneasy as he said this. There was no possible way I could down two huge glasses of beer. Let alone even another sip.

"You got it, Phil," He nodded to my dad, then turned and gave me a skeptical look.

Once he was out of sight, I slumped into my stool, glaring at the full glass before me. If I didn't drink both glasses like he said I was suppose to, there'd most likely be hell to pay. If I did drink both glasses like I was supposed to, who knew what would happen to me. I was already feeling dizzy as it was, and the strobe lights were giving me a pulsing headache.

Almost an hour later – still no signs of Phil anywhere – I finally finished the last of the second glass. My throat burned and stung like hell, and my stomach was raging. My vision was fuzzy, along with my hearing and movements.

I had never been drunk before, obviously, but I knew that it was definitely not something I'd ever want to experience again. Day after day I saw my dad passed out drunk somewhere in the house, and I always wondered how he enjoyed it so much. Now, I was wondering it even more. There was nothing remotely pleasant about this experience, and frankly, I felt about ready to pass out. Or throw up.

Or maybe throw up then pass out. Yeah – that sounded about right.

I looked around the room once again, my head absolutely throbbing. I couldn't spot Phil anywhere, and all I could hear was the roaring base of the sultry rap, and the hummed voices of the filled room. Out of all of the times I had felt lost and alone in my life, never once had it been worse than this.

I felt like crying.

And then, you know, maybe throwing up.

I was scared, alone, and not even sure that my father was still even here. So I hopped off of the stool, and began parting my way through the crowds of dirty dancing. After what seemed like hours of searching, I finally found the door and made my way out of that damn place.

Once I was out side, the cool, Chicago air whipped across my face, helping some of the dizziness go away. I was a little more oriented too, now that I could hear my own thoughts. I looked around, unsure of what to do; unsure of where to go. I was afraid to go home though, and afraid that Esme would catch me, and would be devastated by what I had done. I could just imagine how disappointed she'd be.

After a few minutes of silent debating, I decided I'd wait for a cab. I stood out in the cold for a while on my own, waiting for it to come. After about ten minutes, footsteps suddenly stormed up behind me, and I knew who it was without even having to turn around and check.

His hand came down sharply on my shoulder as he gripped tightly, spinning me around to face him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He accused, narrowing his eyes and spitting his words at me. "I'm not through with you yet!" He gritted angrily through his teeth.

I was terrified of what he would do; unsure of what I was suppose to say, or how to say it without pissing him off even more. "I'm, uh, sorry, Dad. . .I, uh. . ." Didn't want to spend any more time in that fucked up place.

"You what?" He was drunk, just like me, but he was better at keeping focus – having plenty of experience and all.

"I thought you had already left. . ." I said nervously, looking anywhere but his face. My speech was also somewhat impaired, and it hurt my brain to try and form coherent thoughts and sentences.

"Well, asshole," He spat at me – it was nothing new though; he called me things like that all of the time. I was use to it. "I told you to wait for me, didn't I?" His eyes were cold, and bleak. I had never seem them so scary. They were like half-crazed, and I knew that whatever was coming wasn't good.

I gulped, nodding.

I was completely unprepared for his next actions. Without any sort of notice, he grabbed both of my wrists in one of his hands, wrapping the other hand tightly around my neck. I only a couple inches shorter than him, so I tried to struggle away from his grasp.

Before I knew it, he was shoving me into a dark alley less than a block away from the club. "What the hell?" I finally managed to yell out once we were alone, which probably wasn't a good idea. No one could hear me anyways.

"I told you," He repeated in a calm, menacing voice, "I'm not finished with you yet." He spat into my ear. "So listen here, you little son-of-a-bitch. You're going to listen to me, and do everything I tell you, you hear?"

I gasped in deep breaths of air once he released my neck. I considered running the hell away from him. I was about to sprint in the opposite direction, when I was abruptly halted by what he pulled out of his jacket pocket.

It was a gun.

My senses began to come back at the seriousness of the situation, and instead of feeling dizzy, I felt like hyperventilating. What a pussy thing to do, I thought in the back of my mind.

Frozen in my steps, I waited for him to say whatever it was he was going to. He looked like he was enjoying the way my eyes shot nervously from his face to the gun in his hand, and back to his face again. "Like that?" He taunted as my eyes stayed locked with horror.

I refused to say anything, for fear of saying something wrong.

I could smell his breath – it reeked of the poison as well as my own. I was deeply regretting listening to him and drinking that damn beer. Things would have been so much easier if my head weren't throbbing.

I knew that the gun was already loaded and ready as he brought it up to my forehead. I shook violently as the cold metal pressed against my skin, and my heart raced at the closeness of death approaching.

"Now you listen here," He was quiet now, and completely at ease with the fact that one flick of his finger could kill me. "I don't got no job any more, and it's damn obvious that we need the money." He paused, making sure I was comprehending. "So you're gonna get it, boy."

I didn't move an inch.

"This is how it's gonna work, so you better listen very closely, because I will not repeat myself." He narrowed his eyes, "If you fail to do as I say, or protest in any manner, I will shoot and kill you." There wasn't an ounce of joking in his eyes. I nodded my head a fraction of an inch.

He quick glanced at the direction of the club, then back at me. "See that whore house?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, "Crazy bitches in that place will pay for kinky sex, and you will give it to them."

My eyes widened, but the protest in side of me clung onto my tongue as I refrained from saying anything. "You do whatever the fuck it is that they want you to, no matter what, got it?" His voice was harsh. "They may hurt you, they may punish you, they may be as sick as hell to you, but you will take it no matter what for that money."

Pain crashed through every once of me as his words cut through my skin like knives. I was about to enter something I was completely unprepared for. I was about to enter a type of hell that wasn't the right place for me.

But I had no other choice except to listen. I had no other choice if I wanted to live through the night. That fact literally killed me, and I felt as if I were punched repeatedly in the stomach.

In a cracked whisper, barely audible, I choked out, "I'm only thirteen."

"I don't give a shit how old you are, bastard," He spat in my face. "You're easily able to pass as a sixteen-year-old. Hell, that doesn't even matter anyways. These women you'll be with. . .they don't care. They are the craziest, sickest, most perverted bitches you will ever come across." He didn't sound too worried about any of this.

Once again, I felt like screaming and crying out in torture at what I was about to do.

"That's good though," He seemed to be assuring himself. "Those woman pay damn good money to do shit to you."

I felt the lump in my throat move up towards my mouth, clamping my hand tightly over my mouth, I clenched my eyes shut as I tried holding back what was about to come flying out of my mouth.

Phil lowered his gun, stepping aside and gesturing with a nod that I could proceed. I turned towards the alley wall, and was violently sick. Twice.

After I was sure it had passed, and he knew it too, I felt him firmly pat my back, "Come on, slut, you've got your first job to do in about fifteen minutes." Once again, it felt like someone had repeatedly punched me all over my body.

"What?" I manged to choke out, still too horror-struck to actually speak.

"You heard me," his voice was curt, and smug, "Now get the hell to a bathroom and clean that shit off your face. I'll be waiting for you right outside the club in ten minutes." Paralyzed, I nodded. His gun, still visibly in his hand, taunted me. He noticed what I was looking at, and a smirk crossed his face. "Edward, if you are not where I tell you to be, when I tell you to be, I will find you. I will kill you."

"Yes, Dad." I whispered as he released his tight grip on my shirt. I could feel the moisture filling in my eyes, but I refused to let my tears spill – convinced that showing him my weakness would ruin me in the end.

I hurried into the bathroom, splashing cool water on my face and rinsing myself off. I studied my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were what scared me – they looked nothing like they normally did. The obvious fear I was feeling was presented strong in them, along with a series of numerous other emotions.

So basically the fact that I was scared shitless was not helping this situation in the least bit.

What was I suppose to do though? I was thirteen years-old. Thirteen. That was just barely a teenager. I had never had sex before. I hadn't been planning on loosing my virginity for a long time, actually.

By the sounds of it though, this would be a lot worse than your nice, romantic, "making-love" garbage everyone talked about. It was clear that no one here still believed in that method.

Before, I hadn't fully been able to grasp what my orders had been. I mean, you can't blame a guy. It is a little difficult to focus on anything but the gun pointed at your head while your father may or may not kill you. Yeah. Just a little stressful.

Now realization of what I was suppose to do finally swept over me, I began to panic. I didn't know how the hell I was suppose to do anything in that department.

I knew I would mess something up. I knew that this very well could possibly the last night I had left, judging by the drastic change of behavior and methods motivating my father.

I was used to his constant hatred aimed at me; the fact that ever since I was born, he had wished I wasn't alive. The fact that never once he had told me he loved me. Despite all of that, I've still been doing a fairly decent job at a normal life.

Unfortunately, having to see the look in your dad's eyes every morning, knowing that he wishes you were never born, does things to a kid. Bad things.

After I finished up in the bathroom, I put on my game face, covering up and closing off any other emotions running through me. I probably appeared calm and content on the outside, while on the inside, I was screaming and ripping at my hair.

Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to enter. No pun intended – honestly.

I met my dad just where he told me too; right outside the club. He was already out there waiting, along with a woman in tall, red high-heels. Taking a deep breath, I slowly walked over and approached them.

"Ah, Edward," Phil said with fake affection. "Right on time."

I took a closer look at the girl by his side. She was probably somewhere in her mid-twenties, but looked older; probably from cigarettes and drugs – something we had just learned in health class. Her hair was a light brown, in wild, frizzy curls that expanded five inches away from her head. Her eyes were a grayish with a pound of make-up surrounding them. She had bright red lips, and freckles all over her face. It was possible that she could have been decent looking at one point, but now, she just looked absolutely insane.

"Edward," Phil rested a hand on my shoulder. I restrained myself from shaking it off. "This is Bree." Bree's eyes ran up and down my body as she silently appraised me. "This is who you'll belong to for the night."

Belong to. I hated that term before the two words even escaped his lips. It made me feel like a slave, and nothing about it sounded flattering. Just because that's what I now was, doesn't mean I had to accept it. I refused to go along with believing his words to be true. I was somebody.

She took a step toward me, reaching her hand out to lightly pinch my cheek and send me a devilish smile. Winking at me, she leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I like 'em young, baby."

I almost gagged. I would have, if it weren't for the murderous warning glare that Phil was shooting me. So instead, I smiled back sweetly at her, not knowing exactly what I was suppose to do or say.

She took her place next to my father once again, smiling happily at him. "You were right, Phil," She commended, "He does not disappoint. Good build, strong frame, cute face," She proceeded the conversation as if I weren't a foot away from them both. "He kinda looks like the silent type too, ya know?" She winked at me once again. "I'll take him for the night."

My stomach sank. I could only imagine what this psychopathic woman had in store for us. It could be worse, I told myself silently, it could have been some perverted old woman. Unfortunately, that was the only positive thought I could hold on to for the moment, because my father's next words had be cringing.

"He's yours until four," He said as she handed him a wad full of cash. I didn't bother asking how much it was, knowing that keeping my mouth shut would always have a better outcome in the end. "Then you may release him from your apartment."

She nodded, smiling sweetly at him, and then they shook hands. "Pleasure doing business with you, Hon," He kissed her cheek as they parted.

Once he was out of sight, I stood awkwardly next to her, unsure of how the hell this was suppose to happen. She gestured with her finger for me to follow her to her car. Hesitantly, I followed closely behind.

She got into the driver's seat of her car, and I carefully climbed in the passenger's seat. I didn't know where we were going; how I was going to get home at four in the morning. I knew that Phil sure as hell wasn't coming to get me. That would mean. . .he couldn't be serious, could he?

Damn it, if I had to walk home, I'd be completely beat for school tomorrow. School! I completely forgot about that. How the hell was I suppose to go to school after tonight? I began silently worrying in my seat, staring bleakly out the window.

"So, kiddo," Bree began in an eager tone. "What's your favorite position?"

Position? In what? Football? I thought about what she was asking for a moment, when it came to me. Oh. I felt like a dumbass. She meant sex. "Um." I stated lamely. What positions were there exactly? Swallowing my nerves, I tried countering her question. "What's yours?"

"On top, baby," She purred, leaning over in her seat to nibble on my ear. Uh, ew, I wanted to say. "I like it in control."

I smiled nervously, "Um, what a coincidence," I said, trying to sound confident with myself. "I, uh, like it on the bottom. . ." What the hell was I saying? I wanted more than ever to scrub my mouth with holy water at the moment.

"Excellent." She whispered to herself menacingly. It kinda scared me.

After ten minutes of driving, we pulled into the parking lot of some extremely shady apartments. I had this sinking feeling in my stomach, knowing that I'd need to start getting accustomed to places like this.

Even though he hadn't said so, I knew that my new "job" would be more than just a one-time thing.

She parked the car and turned off the ignition, but I remained still in my seat. She noticed, and leaned over so that her cleavage was placed right before my eyes. What were you suppose to do when a chick stuck her boobs in your face? Obviously I looked. I gasped when her hand gripped onto my dick through the denim jeans I was wearing. Not in a good way.

"I don't bite, sweetie. . ." She purred into my ear, licking the sighed of my face, ". . .hard!" She laughed loudly; the sound high-pitched, nazzly, and down-right unpleasant. So far, I was not enjoying how things were going.

"Now come on," She urged, moving herself off of me and out the door. "Let's go inside." She winked again. I swear, I'd gouge her eye out if she winked one more time. It was sexy, it was irritating.

I couldn't honestly believe that I was standing their judging her damn eye movements instead of peeing in my pants. Well, at least it was a distraction. At least for a moment, it had kept me from thinking about what was about to come.

Well damn. Now I was thinking about what was about to come. Scratch my distractions – they sure as hell did me no help at all. I knew that no matter what, whatever was coming was unavoidable. Once again, no pun intended. God, I was so immature it wasn't even funny. How could I even be making jokes at the moment? That was seriously effed.

She led me up to her room, letting me enter first. I stepped inside, slipping off my shoes at the door. The fact that I was in a strange, slut's house didn't effect the manor's Esme had taught me.

I glanced around the room, noticing all of the messy clutter lying everywhere. Clothes and underwear were hanging all over the place; boxes of take-out and pizza laid on the ground, along with numerous other items I'd rather not pay much attention to. Her place also smelled horrible – like a bad cologne mixed with dead flowers. It wasn't flattering at all.

I stopped my train of thoughts immediately when I heard her quiet breathing right behind me. It sent shivers throughout my body, and I was instantly afraid again. I even started to shake a little.

She leaned in, her mouth inches away from my ear. "I'm going to go and change. There's a room to the left in the hallway, and I expect you to be naked and on your hands and knees before I'm done. Don't touch anything, and don't you dare try and hide from me." Her tone was immensely different than what it had been before, and I was immediately frightened.

I gulped, nodding and walking straight to where she ordered me. Still not having a clue how any of this stuff worked, I just went along with the directions I was given, no matter how vile and repulsive they were.

I slowly opened the door to the room she had instructed me to, and turned on the lights. I gasped quietly as I took in the sight before me. There were items scattered about the floor – items as in toys; toys as in toys. There were different benches and stools spread across the room, along with a few other unidentifiable pieces of furniture.

As I walked into the room, I was suddenly feeling very self-conscious. She told me I had to be naked. I had already been expecting that part, but still, I hated it. I hated the lack of power and free will I was presented with.

Slowly, I removed my shirt over my head, tossing it aside on the floor. Then, I began unbuckling my jeans, sliding them down my legs and completely off of me. Each of my movements tortured me; I lost a piece of dignity along with each piece of clothing I discarded.

Standing in the middle of some strangers perverted sex room with absolutely no idea where I was and what would happen to me, I fought back the tears and stayed strong as I removed the last piece of clothing from my body.

Getting into the position she had ordered me, I stayed frozen on my hands and knees as the cold air of the room swept over my bare body, causing me to shiver. I clenched my eyes shut and tried to keep my breathing steady. It was so hard though, and I almost thought I wouldn't be able to do it.

"It's not fair," I whispered to no one.

Shaking on the cold tile, ages later I heard Bree finally come through the door. Her stare was like ten-thousand knives piercing through me as I felt her eyes go over every single part of my body. I kept my eyes closed, clenching my teeth together.

"Very good, Edward." I heard her pleased hummed from somewhere in the room. I didn't dare open my eyes, even though I could have at any point. I just didn't want to have to see any of this. I knew it'd be worse if I saw it.

I felt as she approached me, and knew that she was continuing to stare at my still form. As she walked around me twice, her hand flew out, coming sharply across my ass. Through my clenched teeth, I hissed in pain but remained unmoving.

"Can handle pain," She observed to herself quietly, her voice sounding pleased. "Very good." She repeated.

I didn't say anything, staying silent. I felt like I would involuntarily scream at any moment though, so I bit down on my lip.

"Stand up!" She suddenly ordered in a loud, harsh voice. Quickly, I scrambled to my feet, hoping not to piss her off. What was her deal, anyways? Hadn't she said she liked me? Then again, all girls were confusing.

"Why are your eyes closed?" She demanded as soon as I was standing up.

Without her needing to say any more, I quickly flashed my eyes open, as much as I didn't want to. I avoided looking anywhere near her, hoping she wouldn't yell at me for it. It didn't last long, as I suspected. "Look at me!" She barked, her hand reaching up to grasp her fingers tightly to the sides of my jaw, making me look directly in her eyes.

My whole body quivered as I stared into her crazed eyes. A few moments passed by, and her tight grip on my jaw soon turned into a light caress on my cheek. A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips.

"Now, my baby," She lowered her eyes, smirking, "What do you know about whipping benches?"


"Harder!" She shrieked, her nails digging into my chest to the point of bleeding. "Push harder, you little fucker!"

Cringing my eyes shut, I pushed myself in even further. I hissed in pain through the duck tape over my mouth at what she was doing to me – It had been going on for over three hours now, and my body felt weak. It felt like I would pass out at any moment.

My hands were stretched and cuffed to a pole somewhere above my head as I laid with my back on the cold, stone tile. There wasn't an ounce of pleasure left in me. In fact, there had never been any to start with.

Everything inside of me felt sharp and pain; every limb, every muscle. My crotch was literally raw with all she had been doing, and my face felt numb. Whenever I would do something that displeased her, she'd slap one of my cheeks.

It really stung.

I tried not to do anything wrong, but I couldn't help it. I just had no idea what I was doing. It wasn't fair, I repeated silently over and over in my head. It wasn't fair.

She sat on top of me – slamming down onto my exhausted body every other second, each time harder than the one before. The duck tape she had stuck over my mouth abled me to hold in my pained screams. While the whole time this was happening, she was able to wear a satisfied smile on that fucking face.

For about the hundredth time that night, I felt her lower muscles clench as she released around me. I grimaced in disgust, but she didn't notice.

She glanced at the clock that wasn't visible to me. I prayed with every single ounce in me that it would be four o'clock. Then I could escape this hell – I could go home, get a few hours of sleep, and then hopefully I would be fine. I would go to school, and it'd be like none of this ever happened.

I felt like crying out in joy through my sealed lips as she lifted herself off of me and went to un-cuff my hands. "Sh, baby," She whispered to me as I began whimpering at the stinging around my wrists. Once they were free, I brought them to my face to inspect them. They were raw, scratched up, and bloody. It must have been from all of the struggling I had been doing.

I sat up, though I barely had enough strength in me to do that, and she reached over and handed me a water bottle. As greedy as ever, I drank it all without a second of hesitation. Finishing the whole bottle in under a minute, I tossed it down next to me.

She stood up first, then helped me to my feet. "Very good job tonight, my pet," She leaned over, purring into my ear. "I much enjoyed your services."

I responded with only a stiff nod. I was sure that if I tried to form words, I'd probably end up in a fit of uncontrollable sobs.

"You may dress yourself and leave, lovely." She said, exiting out of the room naked and without another word.

As quick as I possibly could in my condition, I threw my clothes back on my body. Once they were on, I suddenly felt so much more secure and comfortable. Still though, my insides felt bare – I felt as if I had been kicked and thrown to the side of the road like an abandoned, dog. In fact, that's exactly what I felt like: an animal.

I felt embarrassed, I felt pain, and I felt vulnerable. I felt as if any thing could break me now. Her touch was still embedded on my skin. Her hands; hot, knife hands imprinted on my fragile body.

I was just a kid.

What did I ever do to deserve this?

Just like she had instructed, I left the apartment room immediately, racing down three flights of stairs and throwing myself out of the main entrance in the lobby. Never looking back, I began sprinting away from that forsaken place – my shoes padding loudly on the unfamiliar gravel road as I refused to let myself stop.

Cold air whipped at my face, stinging every bare part of my body.

I continued running; pushing myself further and further, never stopping. My legs ached as I ran, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. My lungs burned with an intense fire, eating away my air. Pretty soon, I was gasping for breath as lungs felt like they were being torn apart.

I felt hot, wet tears stream down my face, causing my vision to go blurry. Furiously, I tried blinking them back, but didn't succeed. Pretty soon, I couldn't see at all.

When I could no longer see, everything in me gave out. I collapsed in the middle of the barren road; falling to the ground without warning. Once my face hit the cold tar, I felt a sense of numbness sweep over me, and over take my whole body completely.

I crawled to the side of the road, out of harms way from any possible traffic. Once I was sure I was safe, I crumpled up in a ball next to the curb as I felt myself rip apart on the inside.

It was like thirteen years of locked up emotion suddenly crashing through me. Everything I had felt; all the pain and silent suffering I had hidden throughout my life now consumed me in it's violent rage of bitter reality.

I stayed like that for almost an hour. Silently crying for what I had suddenly lost. My childhood. From this night on, I knew that nothing would truly be the same. I knew that whatever hopes I had for the future were gone. Most importantly, I knew that I would never be the same.

Once I resurfaced, I was a completely different person. I picked myself up off of the dirty street and stared around into the darkness. Proceeding in the direction I believed to be home, I began a steady walk.

As I walked, I left behind bits and pieces of my soul. I locked up my real self, and let this new Edward take over me. I was bitter, but at the same time, defeated. I knew that couldn't avoid what was in my future, and that there was no point fighting it, so I didn't. I surrendered to my new fate.

At realization of what had happened, I broke out into another sprint. As much as I wanted to fight it away, I had to accept it. I hated that; the moment I realized what I became, I pushed myself even harder.

Running from myself.

Running from who I had become.


11.26 - Thanksgiving (today): "The First Night"
12.25 - Christmas: [not determined yet]
1.1.10 - New Years Day: "After the Epilogue"

My holiday presents to you.
Because I love you.
And I can't let go if this story quite yet.