AN: Alright background time lovelies. One of my favorite pieces of literature ever is Lolita by Vladimir Nobokov. It's an intricate display of an unreliable narrator, successfully creates a reader vs protagonist situation where you can reasonably root for the main character to fail and get his comeuppance, and displays the harsh cruelty of being young and forced into a horrible, yet inescapable situation...but some idiots have taken it as an effing romance novel, coined the modern "Lolita" term to describe fetishised children, and created an entire porn genre around this because this is what happens when humanity tries to have deep things. So screw you guys here's my anti modern Lolita story.

Warnings: I debated the rating for this for awhile, however since it's in no way explicit so far I'm going with heavy T unless I believe it shifts over the line at any point, which is very likely given the nature of this story. Warnings so far are mentions of kidnapping and allusions to the sexual abuse of a minor. Keep in mind however this story is not meant to glorify this in anyway, but present a recovery from these things. DO NOT come here expecting graphic non con smut you will be disappointed.

PROLOGUE: FREE AT LAST

"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul."

Those words a sickening echo that played through my mind over and over again. They crawled into my ears like insects infesting the canals and making their way up to my brain to bite away at the little pieces of sanity I managed to preserve. I heard them every night, even when Dartz didn't personally appear beside me to whisper them.

Thinking of him made me wish I could tear off all the filthy skin that had known his touch. Which by that point, was likely all of it. He had come to me so many times by that point that they were a far better way to keep track of my time imprisoned than trying to keep track of the hours in vain. That night it felt as if he should have come already though.

I had heard the key turn in the bedroom door's lock. The knob had twisted, before falling back into place and footsteps retreated back down the hall. It was a fair guess he was rushing to the bathroom to remove his contacts before coming to bed. He forgot to take them out every now and again only to remember at the last moment. How disgusting that I had been exposed to him long enough to learn such a private detail.

I waited with the covers curled to my body for him to return taking the extra time to brace myself for the next night of abuses. The more ready I was, the less likely I was to vomit or cry after, and the less likely he was to be even harsher on me the next few days out of anger. Fifteen minutes went by and the knob didn't turn again. My red eyes stared at it through the dim room. I had only the bedside table lamp for light, but I was certain i had not seen a single flinch from the door yet. Nor heard the sounds of his heavy footed walking.

I stepped out of the covers and made my way down the hall part out of curiosity, and another part out of an anxious desire to just have the night be done with so I could be on my way to the temporary sanctuary of daylight. There was a secret third part that was inspired by hope. I tried not to give in to it instead of risking inevitable disappointment.

The door was silent as I pushed it open as gently as possible. I peaked my head out of it looking in both directions the hall split in. From the left, three doors down, I saw light peaking through another cracked door. The bathroom as I'd thought, but there were no sounds of water or the man's humming he was in the annoying habit of muttering during menial tasks. I walked towards it one step at a time only applying light pressure on the wooden floors. My heart leaped up inside my throat when a loose board gave a telling creek. My head snapped up so fast that my bangs fell over my eyes. I brushed them away and was relieved that I didn't spot a pair of bi-colored eyes staring at me from the door. Not a single sign of movement. I crept to the bathroom, peeking in through the crack in the door. I was worried I might spot him in some sort of compromising personal moment, but to my delight that wasn't the case. Said delight increased a thousandfold when I caught a good look of the scene in the bathroom. Dartz was laying face down on the white tiles, head tilted to the side enough for me to see a giant red welt on his temple. It looked like he had simply tripped and his his head on the sink. He was either dead or unconscious. I'm not ashamed to say I hoped for the first. Not after what this man had done to me.

All I could think of in that moment was freedom. Sweet freedom in the form of his keys set down on the sink. Their jingle as I snatched and rant to the front door with them harmonized with the turning of the lock on the front door into the sweetest melody I had ever hear. Without Dartz escorting me, the air smelt fresh again once I stepped outside. With a spark of energy I haadn't felt in awhile I dashed from the semi-secluded property. There was a road in the viewable distance or even the other wealthy estates built the same off road distance about half an hour to the right or left each. I went for the road. I didn't want to be confined in any sort of manner for even the time it would take for the police to come. I sped through lush and wet grass first making my way as fast as my legs would carry to the end of my nightmare. A nightmare that began when I was twelve years old, however long ago that was.

I had been helping father carry in boxes for our new tenant. He was a bit of a realestate Tycoon in Domino City back in Japan. The running gag to point out the irony that an Egyptian owned the nicest part of town. Father would laugh good natured and smile. He was always smiling. Even when he introduced me to the face of evil.

"Atemu!" He'd called my name and my scrawny arms nearly dropped the box when I ran over.

"Yes Otousama?" I was mindful to use the language of our new country and it's proper conversions over our native Arabic.

"This is Hato Dartz," He introduced. Dartz stood there next to him well dressed like he'd just gotten back from an office job and long hair respectably pulled back. "The tenant we're moving the boxes in for."

We lived in the penthouse of one of my father's properties and it was common for us to help around the building. I'd smiled trusting and naive at him. "Nice to meet you Hato-sama."

"Please," He smiled back. "Call me Dartz-san."

I had gone over that moment a million times over in his memories, and all of the other interactions I had with Dartz over the month afterwards. Yet, I couldn't figure out what had brought us to the point of no return on that awful day.

I'd been wandering down the halls of the complex after throwing on a pair of typical shorts and a zip up sweater, and my new sneakers I'd been beaming about to my friends for the past week. Heading down the stairs to the lobby when a familiar voice caught my attention.

"Ah Atemu-kun is that you?" I turned to see Dartz standing there. I smiled at him and waved.

"Ohaiyo Darz-san," I greeted. "Are you headed out?"

"I am," he replied. His eyes scanned me over. "It looks like you are aswell, may I ask where?"

I had thought nothing of telling him. He was just the friendly and nicely dressed man who paid my father rent and sometimes talked to me in the hallway. "Uh huh, Otousama is visiting one of his other properties all day, so he asked me to go pick of the groceries while he's out before it gets dark. I'm headed for the market on Tozawa Street."

"Well that's quite a coincidence," He said. "I was going to go pick up some flour for a cake, my daughter's flying for her birthday this weekend."

Dartz had mentioned his daughter a few times to me and my father. All I knew was that she lived in America with Dartz's father some reason and he missed her terribly. Being a father himself had just made him more trustworthy to my childish mind.

"Do you want to walk with me, it'd be nicer to talk to someone then just stick my headphones in," I suggested.

His eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't do that walking through the city anyways, what if you don't hear a car speeding up?" I rolled my eyes. A typical adult that I thought I knew better than.

"Neh, I pay attention to the signs!" I said. We started walking and leaving the complex together. Most everyone was in their homes or at work, and no one saw me walking with him.

"Still you should be wary," Dartz said. "It's easy for a young man to fall prey to his own self security." I took his joking tone in stride and chuckled. If only I'd known. Dartz had stopped right in front of the lobby door. "Oh damn...I forgot my wallet."

"Do you need to go get it real quick?" I asked. "I can wait down here for you to come back?"

He laughed. "Thank you Atemu-kun. How about you run with me to get it really quick? I don't think I'm quite done lecturing you yet, and I'll give you some extra yen for sweets or trading cards from the market for the extra company."

I had eagerly agreed to go up with him. Otousama was smart enough to know if I had spent any of the extra grocery funds on either, extra money from Dartz effectively solved that problem I blindly followed him to his dwelling. He held the door open and I stepped inside not even taking note of him closing the door behind us.

"Go ahead and take a seat on the couch," he instructed. "I think I left it in my room, I should be right back." I quietly did as I was told taking in his condo.

It was nice and decorated with modern furniture. Clearly a bachelor pad, and not quite as luxurious as me and father's own home. It smelled good though. Like freshly burnt inscents and spices. I was distracted by the new environment and my curiosity that I didn't notice there had been no sound of a door opening or Dartz stepping towards his room. Nor did I take note of him shadowing and leaning over me until a hand had clamped over my mouth and it was too late.

I screamed from behind it and immediately started to kick and flail as hard as I could. His palm muffled my desperate cries and my tears rolled down the front of it. I tried so hard to get away. Scratching and yanking myself forward, but a twelve year old boy caught off guard was no match for a full grown man who had planned his move. His other arm moved to pull me up by putting pressure under my neck and started to choke me. My nostrils started desperately trying to capture oxygen as everything started to fade.

His face had moved next to mine and whispered. "My sweet Lolita, how I've yearned for you."

From behind his palm I'd struggled out an unintelligible sentence before passing out. "ehwhnmeppa."

What I'd been trying to say was 'I want my papa.'

That was the first time Dartz had called me that damn name. "Lolita". It wasn't so much a pet name as a twisted and bastardized version of me he created in his head to justify what he'd thought about, and then gone through with doing to me. His little Lolita was nothing more than a precious flirty little doll who enticed him. I was none of that, but the sick bastard convinced himself I was.

I'd cried every night those first few months after waking up in a dark room somewhere. All I could tell was it wasn't my father's building and only Dartz knew to go there apparently. Every time he visited I would beg and scream for him to let me go, plead to be taken home.

"I promise I won't tell just let me go."

"Please, Otousama's looking for me, I'm all he has left."

"I want to go home!"

It fell on deaf ears and after months of the room I was made unconscious again and somehow wound up smuggled into America and holed up in Dartz's new estate where every single room required one of the keys Dartz guarded religiously. I was helpless. Trapped in an almost impossible to escape prison with no resources of my own and in a country whose primary language I couldn't understand. Arabic and Japanese were the only languages I could speak. Dartz took me out a few times, but what was I going to do? Shout in random Arabic in what I suspected was the whitest gods damned small town Dartz could have picked and hope someone understood me and didn't assume I just was his misbehaved son? The latter was the exact result I'd gotten the one time I'd tried. No one cared enough to check further after that. I learned my lesson later that night why the risk wasn't worth it.

"They're talking about what a misbehaved child you are, that it's a good thing I homeschool you and their children don't have to be around you...perhaps I should take their advice and discipline you better."

The nightmare was finally ending though. The road was in sight and he was almost free. The moment my feet touced asphalt I felt like bending down and kissing the ground I stood on. As it was, I took that moment to put my face in my hands, and sob. It was over. I could find the police, get someone who could understand me, and be on his way back to my father in Japan or wherever he lived and remember what it felt like to be embraced by him. I could go home and sleep in my own bed without Dartz slithering in next to me.

My eyes lifted from my hands and bright lights shone in them. A car haid parked itself near me. I recognized that it wasn't Dartz's thankfully. An elderly man with a wiry frame and a bushy moustache stepped out. His face even more wrinkled with the worry on display on it, and a little girl with big blond pigtails peeking out from the passenger side. He looked me over and walked towards me.

"Young man are you alright?" I couldn't understand him.

I assumed he was speaking English. "I can't understand you." I responded back in Arabic, even if I suspected he would just look at me strange. I was wrong, instead he repeated his question back in my native language.

He kept talking. "What happened, are you hurt?"

I was so relieved. It was as if after ignoring me for however long I'd been trapped in that hell the gods had finally answered my prayers. "Y-Yes. Please call the police."

"I can drive you th-"

"NO!" I didn't want to get in the car with him. What if this was another trap and he did the same thing? "Just call them here please." I started crying again.

He switched back to English and I couldn't understand him and the little girl.

"Rebecca call the police!"

"Okay, what do I tell them?"

"There's a boy out three miles south on West 90, it looks like he's in trouble and he might be hurt. Those exact words.

"Okay Grandpa!"

He turned back to me taking several slow steps closer. I didn't back away even if I partially wanted to. He was helping me, the police were coming and they'd bring me to the station and send me home.

A large hand placed itself on my shoulder. "It's okay, everything's going to be alright now." I was overwhelmed with too many emotions to name, and I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I threw my arms around him shouting "thank you" over and over again until the police arrived five minutes later with an ambulance.