So, as you may have noticed, I decided to do a little update of the story. Don't worry, I didn't change the story in any way. I just wanted to fix the many mistakes that I made while writing this story. I started writing it quite a long time ago and I wasn't that fluent in English when I did.

I unfortunately had to read it again and I almost cried seeing how many mistakes I made. Seriously, some of my sentences didn't even make sense! I'm so sorry for that…

Anyway, I tried my best to fix it! As always, enjoy!

Stockholm syndrome

Chapter 1:

-Hola, chica. ¿Has descansado bien? The man said quietly while she tried to wake-up. Anda, despertate. He kept saying.

*Hello, chica. Did you sleep well?* *Come on, wake up.*

When she managed to regain full consciousness, the first thing she saw was two wonderful green eyes. She was inevitably attracted by their depth. She was admiring them. But her thoughts were interrupted by finger snaps.

-¿Chica? ¿Estás conmigo? He called her.

*Chica? Are you with me?*

She realized her situation. She saw the man who was squat in front of her. She felt her tied hands above her head, the rope which was burning her wrists. She remembered what happened before: the beach, the pirates, the knockdown, the blackout. She has been kidnapped. A shiver of fear ran through her whole body when the man took her chin with his rough hand. She quickly turned her head to avoid facing him. He insisted and forced her to raise her head.

-Shhhh, look at me. He said quietly.

He was staring at her face. He was exploring each feature of her face. Her deep blue eyes, her fine nose, her luscious lips, her beautiful blond hair.

-Hermosa… He marveled.

She was embarrassed. She didn't know this man. She didn't want to be touched by this man. Despite his rather ordinary appearance, he was creepy. He wore a Mohawk. He had a scary scar running up the left side of his skull. He wore a dirty red tank top, green trousers and black rangers. Two hand guns and a hunting knife were hanging on his belt.

He released his grip, stood up and took something in his back pocket. She noticed it was her passport. He was reading it, pacing back and forth in front of the girl sitting on the floor.

-So, Emilie Durand, from France, huh? He looked at her. Huh? She didn't answer. You have lost your tongue, Mademoiselle? He teased. Anyway, he continued, eighteen years old, hum, well, the young ones are sold for lots of money.

-S-sold? Emilie started to panic.

He pretended to be sorry.

-Oh shit, I just spoilt the surprise. Too bad!

-You sell human beings? You're awful!

-No, no, no, I'm a business man!

He approached her, leaned over her and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

-And you, you're going to make me lots of money. He smirked. Tu es une très jolie jeune fille. He said in French.

*You're a pretty girl.*

He stood up and continued to speak for himself.

-Sinceramente, tengo muchas ganas de mantenerte para mí solo.

*Honestly, I really want to keep you for myself.*

-¡Yo, no soy un objeto, libérame, hijo de puta! She shouted.

*I'm not an object, release me, you son of a bitch!*

He was surprised. He turned around to face her.

-¿Hablas español? ¡Que sorpresa! Tienes muchas cualidades.

*You speak Spanish? What a surprise! You've many qualities.*

His mood suddenly changed: he grabbed a fist of her hair and pulled, she groaned in pain.

-But don't try to disrespect me again, perra, otherwise I rip your head off, has comprendido?

Emilie nodded. She didn't want to anger him further. He released his grip and she lowered her head. He started to ask her few questions.

-So, height? Weight? Measurements?

She didn't answer; this kind of things didn't concern him! He started to be annoyed by her silence; he took one of his guns and aimed it at Emilie's head.

-If you don't help me, it won't work, so be a nice bitch and answer me!

Emilie was shaking with fear, she saw the barrel of the gun pointed at her, and she didn't want to die.

-Height?

-5'6".

She gave in.

-Weight?

-132 lbs.

-Measurements?

It was the most intrusive question that she has been asked ever, she wasn't even sure she knew it. However, she answered.

-40 C, 25", 30".

-Wow, it's quite tempting. He responded with a smirk.

She was terribly embarrassed by his comment. But not as embarrassed as when he asked the next question.

-Are you a virgin?

She even doubted that she heard well.

-What? She asked.

-I'm asking you if your little pussy has already been fucked!

The vulgarity of his sentence shocked her a bit, she answered, barely audible.

-I-I'm a v-virgin.

-There, that wasn't so hard, was that? Is there another thing to add? Sickness, whatever?

-No.

He turned around and exited the bamboo cage where they were. Another man called him, approaching him. He wore a shirt with a suite jacket and jeans. He had a golden chain around his neck.

-Vaas? Have you finished with the French girl? The new man asked with a thick south-African accent.

-Yeah. She told me everything, I guess. The pirate answered.

-How much you think we can demand?

-Three million easily, maybe more.

The man with the Mohawk gave the other a clipboard, he took it, adding:

-I like when it goes like this. The two sneered.

So she will indeed be sold, three million? She had the impression that her body didn't belong to her anymore. She wanted to hide. To hide in a hole where anyone could find her and stay there forever. She felt undressed. She felt weak and vulnerable.

-When I find a buyer, I will come here to bring her to the south, it wouldn't be so long. In the meantime, you do whatever you want but don't damage the merchandise. The man in the suit said before leaving.

-Don't worry, I'll be careful. The other replied.

He started to leave too but Emilie called him by what seemed to be his name.

-Vaas?

He turned and looked at her.

-What?

-W-Where are t-they?

-Who?

-Where are my sisters?

She asked gently not to irritate him.

-Sisters? You talk about the two chicas who were with you?

She nodded. A smirk appeared on the pirate's lips.

-Don't worry; I haven't killed them, not yet.

To these words, he left for good. She started to worry. Worry about her two sisters. All the three had been kidnapped by those pirates. But she was alone, locked in this cage, like an animal. She was hungry, she was thirsty, and the sun was burning her skin. Her whole body was hurting. Her clothes were dirty. She couldn't do anything. She wanted to cry but she didn't manage.

She finally fell asleep, thinking about her family, her home, what she wouldn't give for going home? To exit this hell?