~Author's Note~ I am really sorry for abandoning you guys, and I know that this doesn't make up for it, but don't give up on me yet, I am still here and I have begun to work on chapter 3. I had to re-edit both chapters, and I once again have inspiration, Chapter 3 will be up just as soon as it is done and edited. Also I would like to thank my AWESOME beta-reader for helping me out, this would never have gone anywhere without you. I would also like to thank all of those WONDERFUL people who reviewed, followed, and/or Favorited, I love you! Your support makes my day! I know you are probably bored of this AN by now, so, let the story begin!~ Victory4Zim
Disclaimer: Why do they even have this? If anybody here actually owned Criminal Minds, they certainly wouldn't be here! I do not own/make money off of anything that you may recognize.
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE OF A CHILD; INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.
Sometimes, when I am terrified of the darkness of my surroundings that threatens to consume me, I recall a woman's face. Long, unmanageable blond hair flows from her scalp. Her pale skin and gaunt features give her a phantom-like appearance. She has large expressive brown eyes that are alive with the thirst for knowledge and some warm emotion that I don't recognize. Her face is not memorable by any means, but to me she is everything. I've never even met her, yet I feel as if I've known her my entire life, but, that's impossible, isn't it?
When I am allowed to sleep, I always have the same dream; a small, scrawny boy, who appears to be about two or three years old, is brushing his teeth in navy blue pajamas labeled 'Star Trek', giggling at his reflection. He is very small, only reaching over the sink by a stepping-stool. A mop of mousy-brown hair covers his head, some of it falling onto his face. Bulky glasses frame his large hazel eyes, making them appear even larger. By looking into his eyes, I can tell that this child is not any regular toddler, behind the bright gleam of innocence and curiosity that only children can possess, is an older, unyielding wisdom, far beyond his years. After he rinses his mouth and dries his face with a nearby towel, he nearly falls from the stool in fright. Behind him stands the man I know now as Master. There is nothing special about him; he could easily be lost in a crowd. Master is a tall, yet slightly pudgy individual. He has thinning brown hair and the coldest blue eyes that I have ever seen. His calloused hands are wrapped around the little boy's mouth, preventing the slightest sound from escaping. I scream at the child to call for help, run, and fight back, anything! But neither of the figures even acknowledges my presence. Master bends down and whispers into the toddler's ear with a menacing tone.
"Come with me and don't put up a fight or your mommy dies." Eying the gun in his other hand, the child says something, but his words are muffled by Master's vicious grip. Master removes his hand for a moment, allowing the boy to speak.
"Please Sir," he says, "My mommy is real sick, I'll go with you, just don't hurt my mommy" Master must've taken this as consent, for moments later; the little boy is shoved into a waiting van.
I woke up with a jolt. Yawning, I sat up from my current position on the floor and stretched my aching limbs. Master's lesson really did a number on me; I winced as I remembered every mark with perfect clarity. I really tried to please him, but that was nearly impossible.
Suddenly, I heard the door unbolting. Instinctively, I scrambled as far away from the door as my leash and collar would allow. The metal collar bit into my already raw neck, drawing blood. I whimpered as he stalked over to me. When I felt His rough, unforgiving hands caress my face, I shivered, mentally preparing myself for what is coming. He presses His mouth against mine, forcing His tongue down my throat as His cold hands travel lower and lower, tracing the scars He had made. I knew not to make a sound, for it was against The Rules. Still, I couldn't help but whimper when Master slid off His pants and crawled on top of me. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I willed my mind to take me far, far away from Master's stony silence and cold hands. By the time He was done, I felt numb and dirty.
When I got up, I could feel the blood running down my legs. Painfully, I shuffled over to where Master was putting His clothes back on. Briefly, I wondered how clothing felt, Master had never allowed me to have any, I was dirty, and filthy animals like me didn't deserve such a privilege. "M-Master?" I stammered. "M-may I h-have some f-f-food? I-I haven't eaten s-since l-last week." I regretted those words just as soon as they left my mouth.
I had broken the number one Rule! Never speak unless granted permission. Without warning, I was thrown into the wall. I cried out when I felt my left leg explode in agonizing pain accompanied by a sickening crack. "WHAT?" He bellowed, "You think that I don't treat you right? You think you deserve better than what I give you? You are nothing but my used plaything. Let me show you what you deserve." I felt my heart race when I saw Him grab the whip. "Kneel." He ordered. My leg throbbed in protest when I attempted to follow His order. It was excruciating, but it was far better than making him even angrier.
Suddenly, I felt white hot fire erupt from my back. My agonized screams droned out Master's curses as the whip came down again and again, over and over. Each strike reopened an old wound and made the pain even more intense. Eventually, the sheer agony became too much and I fell into the dark bliss of unconsciousness.