- 10
- Posts
- 7
- Years
- Seen Jun 19, 2023
Warning: The following story will contain passages of violence and cruelty that may make certain readers uncomfortable. It is meant to be an analog of my own personal experiences with a little creative flair. Reader discretion is advised.
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The first clue that something was wrong came from her eyes. The second was the leather bound notebook she was digging her nails into. Although the rest of her face carried a relatively apathetic look, there was no denying the seething rage that had consumed her. I had failed yet again to live up to her standards. I was a disappointment and a failure and this was to remind me of my place. I was already lying on the floor with my hands clutching my bruised chest and blood from my broken nose was everywhere. The welts that covered my body seemed to almost be a part of me at this point. It didn't hurt anymore. I was numb to this kind of pain at this point.
"GET UP!" She yelled. "You want to be strong?" The inflection of her voice was mocking me at this point, antagonizing me. "Do something! Protect yourself! FIGHT!" Another punch, this time to my face. Lights flashed briefly and I regained my focus just in time for another punch to connect. My face was warm with blood pouring from the cuts and busted nose. "Come on! Don't be weak. HIT ME!"
I got back up trying to keep myself from coughing and surveyed my surroundings for anything I may have to use to defend myself. But I knew I wouldn't really do anything. I would just take it, like all the other times. I knew if I were to ever strike her, she would put me away forever with one phone call. I prepared myself, steadying my feet for the next blow. I held back my own rage, tears and anguish. No one knew about this part of my life and no one was going to help me... That was the last thought I remember before lights out.
I woke up in my own bed, one arm tied up to the banister. It was to slow me down in case I ever decided to run so that could have enough time to react. I looked around my room noticing the door was closed, most likely locked with the latches. She had installed them after rummaging through my journal, the leather book that detailed all of my plans to escape this life and begin my dream, my journey.
I grew up in this house devoid of love. I was there only to serve her and her wishes, a captive in my own home. She often took pleasure in causing emotional pain or toting her power whenever I was in situations she knew I couldn't fight back. Antagonistic and cruel, this was not a household for opinions. I didn't have any help in the house to help me either and for all intents and purposes it was both my duty and pleasure to wait on her hand and foot. I was responsible for everything and if she ever had to do anything herself, I already knew to wait patiently for her "correction." In fact, no Pokemon was ever allowed in the house. You see, she hated Pokemon for whatever reason. It was a hatred that manifested in the beatings, control and manipulation of myself. She despised them immensely and actively made efforts to make them suffer when she could.
I remember the moment that solidified this. I was already in my room, latched in for the night as the snow began to fall. I remember the outside was quiet and the sky glowed a deep pinkish hue reflecting the lights from the streetlamps. It comforted me to see the snow, it was so beautiful and elegant and I remember thinking about the uniqueness of each flake and wishing that I could be one of the many billions swirling out there, free to fly wherever the wind blew. A soft, rhythmical knock on my window snapped me out of my stupor. I smiled, already knowing who it was.
"What are you doing here?" I whispered quietly opening the window. "Hey Will." She said. Her face wrinkled together her freckles into a sort of half smile. "So you gonna let me in or what?"
"No, you look comfy out there." I smiled devilishly. She chuckled an pushed me back as she pulled herself to sit on the window sill brushing off the fresh powder. It was only then did I realize she wasn't wearing any shoes. She noticed my concerned look and explained to me that he didn't want her to hear the crunching of snow so as to not give him away. He climbed up to the ledge and sat down. I laughed a quiet laugh looking at his poor feet swollen and red from the cold and rummaged through my laundry for a towel.
"Sorry, it might not be clean but it should help a little." He eagerly took it and wrapped his feet, sighing in relief. "Smells like you." He said teasing me. I smiled but the creaking of floor boards snapped us back to reality. We waited for what seemed like an eternity but the sound didn't repeat. I remember thinking it was the house settling. "So what are you doing here?" I asked.
"I'm here for you. Don't think I didn't remember." He dug under his coat and pulled out a slightly crushed box. "Come here." He said patting the window sill beside him. I sat next to him, our shoulders touching slightly. I don't know why he always made me so nervous. "This is for you." He placed the box in my lap. There was nothing remarkable about it. It was small and brown and other than the bow on top, nothing would indicate it was a 16th birthday present. I shook it a little and he looked concerned, laughing. "You might not want to do that." Puzzled, I opened it and gasped nearly dropping it.
Inside was the familiar red sheen of a Pokeball. I felt the tears well into my eyes but I couldn't look at him. I cried from the happiness I felt and from the anxiety of what was about to happen. He gently took a finger to the side of my face and turned it towards him but I closed my eyes. "Look at me." He said softly. He was the only person who ever showed me any compassion. When I was with him, I could be myself; I could feel. He told me there was a Pokemon inside and now that I was 16 I would be able to start my own journey with it and him. We could finally escape... together. I hugged him tightly. "I'll get my things."
"Well! How cute!" The voice was like the hiss of a murderous serpent. We both spun towards the door which had been opened without either of us knowing. There, she stood. My mother. "Mother, I..."
"Shut up! Did I say you could speak?" Michael hopped off the ledge to immediately place himself between the two of us. "Don't talk to him like that." he shouted. "Oh! This one's got spunk. So you're really going to leave me for this boy?" She laughed. It was like a hyena, unsettlingly inhuman. "What did he promise? A happy ever after?" I looked at Michael and he looked at me. We both nodded and I dashed for the window. It was, however, in vain. I was eventually captured and beaten and he was arrested for attempted kidnapping. After the trial, I cried in my room for weeks. I had finally given up. I didn't want to move or eat or breath or live. I believed I would never escape and eventually during that winter I submitted to finally becoming the slave she always wanted. I cooked and cleaned every day and when I wasn't doing that, I was locked in my room.
A few months later spring arrived. The ground was muddy, the air was fresh with the smell of earth and snow still hugged the shaded parts of the house. But I wasn't enjoying any of it. I opened the window, the same one Michael came in from, now barred to prevent any further intrusion. The sharp glare of something metallic caught my eye. I gasped. There, in the snow... was the Pokeball. It had stayed burried the entire Winter. I grabbed a few wire hangers and fashioned them into a long rod with a hoop at the end reinforcing the shaft by twisting the metal around itself. After a few tries I was able to grab the ball and bring it inside. I quickly shut the window and took care to clean the Pokeball. It was only now did I see the engraving on the bottom half. It read: "Freedom."
My eyes filled with tears and my heart with new resolve. I would get out of here and be my own person no matter what.
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Edit: May edit to refine it a bit. In the next passage I will reveal the starter. I am always open to critiques. I've changed the story quite a bit since the first time I posted.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first clue that something was wrong came from her eyes. The second was the leather bound notebook she was digging her nails into. Although the rest of her face carried a relatively apathetic look, there was no denying the seething rage that had consumed her. I had failed yet again to live up to her standards. I was a disappointment and a failure and this was to remind me of my place. I was already lying on the floor with my hands clutching my bruised chest and blood from my broken nose was everywhere. The welts that covered my body seemed to almost be a part of me at this point. It didn't hurt anymore. I was numb to this kind of pain at this point.
"GET UP!" She yelled. "You want to be strong?" The inflection of her voice was mocking me at this point, antagonizing me. "Do something! Protect yourself! FIGHT!" Another punch, this time to my face. Lights flashed briefly and I regained my focus just in time for another punch to connect. My face was warm with blood pouring from the cuts and busted nose. "Come on! Don't be weak. HIT ME!"
I got back up trying to keep myself from coughing and surveyed my surroundings for anything I may have to use to defend myself. But I knew I wouldn't really do anything. I would just take it, like all the other times. I knew if I were to ever strike her, she would put me away forever with one phone call. I prepared myself, steadying my feet for the next blow. I held back my own rage, tears and anguish. No one knew about this part of my life and no one was going to help me... That was the last thought I remember before lights out.
I woke up in my own bed, one arm tied up to the banister. It was to slow me down in case I ever decided to run so that could have enough time to react. I looked around my room noticing the door was closed, most likely locked with the latches. She had installed them after rummaging through my journal, the leather book that detailed all of my plans to escape this life and begin my dream, my journey.
I grew up in this house devoid of love. I was there only to serve her and her wishes, a captive in my own home. She often took pleasure in causing emotional pain or toting her power whenever I was in situations she knew I couldn't fight back. Antagonistic and cruel, this was not a household for opinions. I didn't have any help in the house to help me either and for all intents and purposes it was both my duty and pleasure to wait on her hand and foot. I was responsible for everything and if she ever had to do anything herself, I already knew to wait patiently for her "correction." In fact, no Pokemon was ever allowed in the house. You see, she hated Pokemon for whatever reason. It was a hatred that manifested in the beatings, control and manipulation of myself. She despised them immensely and actively made efforts to make them suffer when she could.
I remember the moment that solidified this. I was already in my room, latched in for the night as the snow began to fall. I remember the outside was quiet and the sky glowed a deep pinkish hue reflecting the lights from the streetlamps. It comforted me to see the snow, it was so beautiful and elegant and I remember thinking about the uniqueness of each flake and wishing that I could be one of the many billions swirling out there, free to fly wherever the wind blew. A soft, rhythmical knock on my window snapped me out of my stupor. I smiled, already knowing who it was.
"What are you doing here?" I whispered quietly opening the window. "Hey Will." She said. Her face wrinkled together her freckles into a sort of half smile. "So you gonna let me in or what?"
"No, you look comfy out there." I smiled devilishly. She chuckled an pushed me back as she pulled herself to sit on the window sill brushing off the fresh powder. It was only then did I realize she wasn't wearing any shoes. She noticed my concerned look and explained to me that he didn't want her to hear the crunching of snow so as to not give him away. He climbed up to the ledge and sat down. I laughed a quiet laugh looking at his poor feet swollen and red from the cold and rummaged through my laundry for a towel.
"Sorry, it might not be clean but it should help a little." He eagerly took it and wrapped his feet, sighing in relief. "Smells like you." He said teasing me. I smiled but the creaking of floor boards snapped us back to reality. We waited for what seemed like an eternity but the sound didn't repeat. I remember thinking it was the house settling. "So what are you doing here?" I asked.
"I'm here for you. Don't think I didn't remember." He dug under his coat and pulled out a slightly crushed box. "Come here." He said patting the window sill beside him. I sat next to him, our shoulders touching slightly. I don't know why he always made me so nervous. "This is for you." He placed the box in my lap. There was nothing remarkable about it. It was small and brown and other than the bow on top, nothing would indicate it was a 16th birthday present. I shook it a little and he looked concerned, laughing. "You might not want to do that." Puzzled, I opened it and gasped nearly dropping it.
Inside was the familiar red sheen of a Pokeball. I felt the tears well into my eyes but I couldn't look at him. I cried from the happiness I felt and from the anxiety of what was about to happen. He gently took a finger to the side of my face and turned it towards him but I closed my eyes. "Look at me." He said softly. He was the only person who ever showed me any compassion. When I was with him, I could be myself; I could feel. He told me there was a Pokemon inside and now that I was 16 I would be able to start my own journey with it and him. We could finally escape... together. I hugged him tightly. "I'll get my things."
"Well! How cute!" The voice was like the hiss of a murderous serpent. We both spun towards the door which had been opened without either of us knowing. There, she stood. My mother. "Mother, I..."
"Shut up! Did I say you could speak?" Michael hopped off the ledge to immediately place himself between the two of us. "Don't talk to him like that." he shouted. "Oh! This one's got spunk. So you're really going to leave me for this boy?" She laughed. It was like a hyena, unsettlingly inhuman. "What did he promise? A happy ever after?" I looked at Michael and he looked at me. We both nodded and I dashed for the window. It was, however, in vain. I was eventually captured and beaten and he was arrested for attempted kidnapping. After the trial, I cried in my room for weeks. I had finally given up. I didn't want to move or eat or breath or live. I believed I would never escape and eventually during that winter I submitted to finally becoming the slave she always wanted. I cooked and cleaned every day and when I wasn't doing that, I was locked in my room.
A few months later spring arrived. The ground was muddy, the air was fresh with the smell of earth and snow still hugged the shaded parts of the house. But I wasn't enjoying any of it. I opened the window, the same one Michael came in from, now barred to prevent any further intrusion. The sharp glare of something metallic caught my eye. I gasped. There, in the snow... was the Pokeball. It had stayed burried the entire Winter. I grabbed a few wire hangers and fashioned them into a long rod with a hoop at the end reinforcing the shaft by twisting the metal around itself. After a few tries I was able to grab the ball and bring it inside. I quickly shut the window and took care to clean the Pokeball. It was only now did I see the engraving on the bottom half. It read: "Freedom."
My eyes filled with tears and my heart with new resolve. I would get out of here and be my own person no matter what.
--------------------
Edit: May edit to refine it a bit. In the next passage I will reveal the starter. I am always open to critiques. I've changed the story quite a bit since the first time I posted.
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