This story is what some people call "dribble fanfiction". It will contain short chapters (roughly 1000) updated daily or a few times a week. I couldn't get it out of my head so I put it on paper. I will be updating one of my other stories (if not two of them) over the next week. I plan on having some fun with this one though.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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At some point in your life you encounter a moment when you lose that last little bit of childhood innocence. You go through life believing you are invincible and nothing can touch you. Death matters very little in cartoons or even in the real world when it never happens near you. Everything will always be okay and nothing can ever stop you from achieving every last dream you may have. It's a rude awakening when you realize it's not true.

At some point you lose that last little bit of invincibility when something happens that you wonder if you'll ever recover from. Sometimes a parent will die or a friend will do something so horrible they may never recover and you are left holding the bag. For me it was a bit more violent and not at all pleasant. When I lost that childlike innocence, there was no going back. There was never going to be a chance to move on with my life.

I was an ordinary girl, well for the most part. I grew up with a few close friends and two amazing parents. My life was filled with school events from cheerleading to student council. I was the girl going places and was expected to marry some amazing guy and have beautiful children. First I would write and make a name for myself and someday find my happily ever after. No one expected I would die horrifically at the age of seventeen.
The sad part about my death wasn't the cause or what happened after that final breath. It was the idea no one would ever know what happened to me. There was no body, no note, no resolution for anyone who meant anything to me. One minute I was there and the next I was gone forever.

My parents would always wonder if I had been kidnapped. They would always wonder what happened to me and hope I would come home. They would hold candlelight vigils and memorial services. Their faces plastered across nightly news programs would join my graduation picture as they pleaded for my safe return. I wouldn't find out about all that for years but by the time I discovered what had happened, it was too late. My parents had died in a car crash on their way to the last lead they had gotten, hoping they'd find me.

I had thought there was nothing worse than getting dumped by the star quarterback or getting a failing grade on a paper when I was seventeen. I had considered my future in the abstract way everyone does. Someday...someday it would come and I'd be wherever I wanted to be, doing whatever I wanted to be doing. I never considered the idea my future would never have the opportunity to change. My future would be set in stone and I would have to reconcile myself to the idea of never having a future to look forward to.

I don't speak of my death as a rule. After my escape I had entered therapy in order to adjust to the world around me again. I was sorely out of practice for socializing with people and I dealt with horrible anxiety in closed-in spaces. I didn't like crowds and I had no skills useful in today's society. I also had no diplomas or transcripts. There was a birth certificate but it would be useless after all this time. Any part of my past life was gone and I had little control over it.

Therapy had helped me cope. I lied about my age and claimed to have been held against my will for nearly ten years. It wasn't completely false but they didn't need to know that. My therapist had urged me to report the kidnapping but I'd resisted. I told her he wouldn't come for me again since he had died, allowing me to escape. It wasn't true but I doubted he would trouble himself.

I was an epic failure in terms of his lifestyle. I detested things he loved and I wasn't what he had wanted for himself. I became a plaything, a decoration, and an inconvenience. My escaping was probably the best day of his life from the past ten years but I wasn't foolish enough to flaunt it. He was somewhat of a psychopath and could be dangerously obsessive. It wasn't a good idea to talk too much about him or my past before him.
I dealt with fake names for the most part. I lied about dates when I had to use them and I never confirmed anything about him. I only utilized my therapist to learn how to interact with people again. I was terrified for the most part, afraid of being locked up and hidden away. I disliked men and had trouble being around them for any length of time. My trust was never given and I had obsessions with privacy. I was a complete mess and it took three years for me to be able to hold a steady job in a public sector.

The job at the diner had been a godsend. I'd met some amazing people who never asked too many questions. My privacy was respected yet I was still asked to participate in group dinners and other outings which I always declined. I was able to keep to off-hours when places were quieter with no questions asked. While I had adapted to larger groups I couldn't handle the busiest hours of the day. I couldn't stand having people behind me unless they were occupied with something else and touch was something I rarely allowed.

My days off were spent in my tiny studio apartment. I had six locks on my door as if it would help me. I had alarms on my windows and I never allowed the windows to open even in the most beautiful weather. I had been picky in my housing options finally settling for a small apartment complex with a wonderful elderly owner. I lived on the ground floor, sandwiched between three exits while my neighbors took the one other ground floor unit and the two upstairs units. The homeowner lived in the attic apartment, preferring tighter and higher spaces.

I spent my days reading books, learning new technologies, and trying desperately to adapt to the world around me. I studied languages, took online courses through local universities with forged papers, and tried to figure out how to continue my lonely existence without losing my identity.
I wrestled with that for a long time. I'd barely had time to shape my identity before I was with him. During that time I had little identity since he had certain expectations of me. Afterwards I found myself with no identity to speak of and little desire to create one. My thoughts were consumed with surviving and remaining hidden from his whims.

My name had been the first hurdle since finding myself alone. I could hardly use the name I'd been born with since it was still an unsolved crime which surfaced every so often. It had been only when asked to give a name to my therapist I had settled with the name he'd given me.

Elena

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Okay so I'm hoping to update this tomorrow and then a few times a week from there. The short chapters allow me to type them up in small windows while still working on larger chapters for my other stories. I was trying my best to work on "Clue Me In" and I couldn't get this out of my head. I have no idea how long this will be or if at some point there will be larger chapters.

Let me know if you are interested in this one!

Thanks