Isn't it funny how words are made up but fit the description of something else?

Like seriously for instance, are oranges called oranges because their orange? 

Or, wait, is sand called sand because it's in between sea and land? I mean come on, you've thought about it right?

 Well those are things I've been thinking about for the past five days or two weeks?...either way I have no idea how long I've been here. 

I love my room, it's  soooo fluffy. If this is prison I wanna stay here forever.

One problem though

No cell service

No phone

No Tik Tok and dun dun duuunn...

NO.....WIFI.

I can't live without WiFi. Im. A cliché gen Z girl and I'm not sure if I can live without it.

And Mr Douche just won't leave me alone. He's always so moody, giving me clothes and telling me to shower as if I don't know tht already!

Well...I do forget sometimes. But that's not the point!

The point is that I haven't pooped in three days from anxiety.

Soooo.......I'm upside down hanging from my bed plotting my escape plan.

First I'm gonna need a group chat it'll be my army for later as they all plan the greatest prison break of all time, theeeeeen I'll need cupcakes for the road. 

Group chats are quite resourceful for puns and last lines before saying bye sucker when you leave a scene.

Cupcakes are what will give me energy as I kick Mr Douche's ass when I leave. That's my new nickname for him, I love it!

Yes, everything is so clear;  says the girl with blood filling up in her brain. 

"Okayy. Up up." I groan, the room slowly turning as I get up.

I wonder how Chloe ting does all those planks. The woman does up and down planks and I'm there like.....*insert cricket noises* .....what?

I get up and man.....I wish I'd stayed down.

I fall flat on my face making a funny sound as it happens.

Like Ariana Grande tripping and falling in the middle of a high note in her 100 inch heels, I cry out in pain.

Not graceful at all.

If anything, it's the most disgraceful thing you'll ever hear in your entire existence.

I felt the hard wood of the cool floor against my cheek.

I was barely even wearing clothes.

I stand up slowly, my legs shaking due to the trauma of my EMBARRASSING fall and walk to my humongous closet. 

I've never seen a room for clothes this big, well if I don't count Nisha's closet. She has everything yet stays so humble. I actually don't miss her.

She whines too much about her parents giving her too much stuff on her birthday.

I roll my eyes, remembering that not everybody has the life that she has. Se shouldn't complain. If only she knew how I live.

Nope I've never told her my gruesome back story, I've let her come to my house but never through the front door during one of Frank's 'visits'.

Never has she seen my mom and she never will.

Lmao, she's probably dead by now from an overdose.

The thing I love about Nisha is that she doesn't ask questions.

Doesn't have to.

I find comfort in her problems.

There should be a bag somewhere, "Aha, there you are, perfect!"

 I squeal clutching a bag so big it could fit a body. 

I miss fitting bodies into bags some days.

Can't believe how long it's been, if I stayed at home a little longer there'd probably be a new body.

My mom's new bae!

I make my escape past my door and boy.... this place is humongous.

There were sooooo many doors ahead of me and man I was getting mahoganyphobia.

The hallway just seemed to narrow bit by bit every time I blinked.

I gulped blinking hard, taking baby steps.

One step....

"I don't like this."

I breathe.

"I don't like this shit."

"I don't like that I got kidnapped."

"I don't like that this isn't real."

Another step.

"I don't like that my ass is clapping."

I've made it ten steps forward in the past few seconds....progress.

I decide to pick up the pace and something caught my eye.

Welp....the walls had a lot of paintings. They were done too well.

All of which are of flowers, guns and mottos and.....Mr Douche.

I stop at the biggest one. It's double the size of Mez if anything the size of three men stacked together and a Mercedes Benz wide.

Nice.

It consists of one black haired Asian male heavily littered with tattoos on his neck, in an elegant black suit and collared up black shirt with one button open.

He stands next to a man who's grinning deviously at whoever painted the picture.

He looks kinda old, but hey....I guess the painter's biased.

Then....I saw him....in the background, shrouded by darkness barely appearing. His green eyes glowering at me, lacking emotion.

He matches the one on the left but he has a red handkerchief in his pocket. It's Mr Douche himself looking like some kind of hurt animal.

What was wrong with this picture?

What is that amazing smell?

I forget what I'm doing and walk forward, following the amazing aroma. I'm lead to the kitchen by my nose.

I turn to find a woman the size and shape of a jam squash right in front of me.

 Her melodious voice rings out as she sings a Spanish song wait... 

Despacito?

Really?

She looks up at me swiflty her wide eyes matching mine.

Wow I think pouting my lip. "Hello child, what are you doing down here?" she asks narrowing her eyes. 

Mean looking actually. Like one of those nuns on Fridays.

 "Um-" before I can speak,

"You're not one of Ryan's whores are you?" my eyeballs nearly fall out, hoes?

 As in, plural?

Man!!

Why are the cute ones always man hoes?!

It's such an overrated stereotype.

 "No..No..No, you see, I'm actually a how do I say this? A hostage." She holds a hand to her mouth, "You poor girl, I'm sorry, I wasn't here for a week it was my week off. The last time this boy brought a hostage here, oh dear." 

She sounds troubled.

I raise an eyebrow."What, what happened?"

"The last I remember is that they were giggling and the girl was in  handcuffs, blindfolded and everything. He mustvet drugged her, she was our of her mind being led through an unknown place like a bafoon. The next morning she was running out tangled in sheets clinging onto Mr Walker as he raced to go to school. The torture she must've endured."

I-

"And that was the last i'd heard of her. I hope you don't end up like her
"

I....I choke on air realising what she means.

The dang woman is such a smol bean she doesn't even realise that these two were being kinky.

"Eye...I doubt that....I."
she smiles and smacks my cheek playfully.

 "You're a lovely girl, very funny, looking so lost. My girl, I'd advise that you don't get into trouble with that boy. He's as loco as his friends at that school of his.Would you like a cupcake miga?" 

I nod briskly. 

Seriously what type of question is that?

 She smiles from cheek to eye. 

Her tight bun rising a bit.

 She pinches my cheek and shuffles to the other end of the room.

 She comes back with four trays of chocolate whipped rows of massive deliciousness.

 I find myself jumping in one spot showing a toothy smile.

 "Here they are, for the journey, I see you've packed to go." I frown and realize, "Oh, yes and I do not plan on coming back." I say matter of factly. 

She shakes her head disapprovingly. "You cannot run from them." Her face suddenly has age and such an intensity. But it quickly fades.

She waves her hand dismissively, "Go, before he comes back." I nod and run in the direction of the back door. 

A gust of wind brushes my face.

I finally feel the sensation of freedom to fart for the very first time in days.

So fresh and soooo

 "Cold!"I scream realizing that the fresh air is snow. 

Did I say a gust of wind? I meant a literal blizzard.

I clutch my coat and breathe.

Well...my shirt and my pyjama shorts. I forgot to wear a coat.

And shoes...and socks...and- 

I hear laughter from behind me.

She's laughing at me?

 I turn to look at her interrogating her with my eyes.

 "Child, you couldn't get 2 feet from the door without getting whipped, how do you expect to escape. Get inside before you freeze to death." She says stretching her arm for me. 

She sits me down and hands me a hot cup of cocoa. 

Did I say it's hot?

 Excuse me that's not an accurate description. 

It's molten hot.

 "Ho..hot...hot hot!!Hooot!" I say switching my grip on the mug. 

She takes it quickly from me.

"Whoo." I say as the burning feeling fades.

 "I'm sorry dear." She sets the mug down and sits patting her lap. 

"Now, we need to teach you how to plan for escape. That attempt was sad. Rather you go when he's sleeping, I'll lace his midnight tea with a Xanex, he'll be asleep for a day and a half. You know chica you remind me of the first one Ryan brought here, I believe her name was Rosalia. She had her own motives of course, the fire in her eyes, the humor it was the same. She burnt out a little too quickly I'm afraid. Anyway, I can see you're anxious, don't worry, Aunty M is by you."

 I stop playing with my fingers and look at her assuring eyes, I smile. "My name is Lena, I ...I'm on my own for now." I say.

 We carry on talking I babble on about Nisha, how much I want to go to prom. She tells me about her grandson Nico, her family. Interesting fact, she's worked for Ryan's family for forty years.

 Forty, I'd kill myself the first day. And believe me you, I'm not joking and y'all know it. 

Changing such an asshole's diapers, watching him go through puberty. 

Bitch palease I am not made for such crap.

************************************************************

The sun disappears from the horizon and I watch as Ryan walks up to the doorstep through my bay window.

I hear heavy footsteps approach my room. 

The door shuts behind me as the footsteps grow louder my breathing quickens.

I'm not scared you are

I'm not scared he is.

I'm not scared ,his ass is.

I mean girl, have you seen that ass? It's drop dead gorgeous, no wonder it's so big it's trying to make it's escape and remove itself from his body so it can pursue it's dream of becoming a true wap queen.

 I pretend as if he's not there. "Lena come here." I turn my back from him.

 He growls.

Who that fuck growls at a person?

Who dafuq growls?

 I turn my back even further indifferently. "I don't appreciate that tone." I reply.

He turns me sharply gripping my arm.

 "Ow!" I say as his nails dig into my bare flesh.

Don't tell me.....don't tell me he's one of those who keep their pinky nail.

 I'm so close to his face, his warm breath feels so gross. 

It smells like mint and ugh so fresh. 

Disgusting, you know why, it's cause it's exactly what wattpad books say. 

Stuff like,'Oh his breath feels so fresh and wispy like a summer breeze on a Sunday morning whispering beautiful sweet nothings to me as I get drunk from the aroma.'

 Yea that type of shit. 

"I know you tried to run." I pull my arm away and rub it.

How does he know that? Aunt...Aunt Despacito?

 "Yeah so?" I say smugly, he sighs and paces about the room.

 "I treat you like a queen and all you want to do is want to get away from me. Other girls in your position would kill to be you right now. "

A queen without the basic right to fart you mean?

Like I'm not kidding, everytime I think I'm alone he's just there to ruin my only spare time to conduct my bodily functions.
He pauses and hesitates smiles when he says this,

"You know what Lena? I'm sorry I haven't been looking at this from your point of view."

"Huh?"is all I can muster. 

How did he know that I tried to run?

Aunty snitched?!

Crud. 

Wait, my point of view?

 He leans in a little too close. 

Eye-

Nigga woke up today and chose violence.

"Fine, goodnight Lena. "he says kissing my cheek slowly then fixes his eyes on my confused ones. 

He leaves almost as quickly as he came in. 

I swear, his eyes turned black.

What in the hell just happened.

RYANS P.O.V

I have a perfect plan for her now. I'm the best kidnapper right now and she wants to be treated like a hostage, A.P Captivity. 

She wants to be treated like a hostage let's give her the treatment. 

Learnt this topic the day I set my eyes on her. 

My homework was to capture my captive, we were told to make something of our hostages. 

Everybody else in class tortured and killed theirs, I'm going to get an A plus for this assignment I know it. 

It's due in three months. 

Ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?

 In addition, drive her completely insane with an insatiable appetite for blood.

 It's already going according to plan, by the end of this she'll be more messed up than me.

 The last guinea pig... Rose was partly successful a little too much ...actually she nearly killed me. 

Let's just say I'm good at playing with women.

She wont kill me.

This one is well plotted, she'll be fine.

 She's mine.

Besides what's the harm in playing a game?