And we're back. Read on!

caity88- Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far =)

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"Did she seem out of character in the least bit?"

"No," answered Roy, and the officer scribbled something in his notebook. "Everything seemed fine. I talked to the people at the market where she works, and they didn't notice anything out of the ordinary either."

While the officer wrote this down, Detective Matt Fairchild carefully got up from the chair he was sitting in and approached Roy.

"Well, Mr. Randall, this isn't a whole lot to go on, as you can probably imagine. But we'll definitely proceed with the investigation."

"Is there anything else I can do?" Roy asked.

"Yes, is there a recent photo of your daughter?"

Nodding, Roy walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed a framed picture of Chelsea. It was taken a few months earlier, so it would do just fine.

"Thanks," Fairchild said, taking the picture. "We'll start making some missing person posters for her so we can get the word out. Maybe someone else has seen her. In the meantime, make sure to stay in touch with us about any new developments."

"Okay, I will."

They shook hands, and the two officers left the house. Though he was comforted to know that the police were on the case, Roy was still horribly worried for his child.

Chelsea…where are you?

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Chelsea was left by herself until it was almost dark again. Since waking up in the basement, she was compelled to use the gross-looking toilet a few times, which did not help to ease her fears. All she could do was pace aimlessly, not wanting to touch the dirty mattress provided for her.

After a while, she heard the doorknob turn. She stopped pacing just in time to see Stan coming into the room with a bowl and spoon in his hand. He looked at her with the same gruffness Chelsea had seen earlier that day.

"Here," he said, placing the bowl on a rickety wooden table next to the mattress. "Eat."

Chelsea glanced at the bowl, and her stomach turned. It appeared to be some sort of meatloaf, but whatever it was, it seemed to have aged a little too much. After a few moments, she looked at Stan and spoke.

"Okay," she said, trying to force a smile. "I'll eat it in a little while. Thanks."

Stan's gaze hardened at this.

"You're going to eat it right now."

"I'm not hungry."

A few tense seconds went by before Stan started walking towards Chelsea, making her back up. It wasn't long before she was stuck in a corner, with Stan just a few feet away.

"Either you eat it now, or I'll feed it to you."

Chelsea wanted to call his bluff, but after everything else that had occurred that day, she knew he wasn't messing around. She carefully took the bowl and picked up the spoon. The smell was terrible, but she made herself take a small bite. Unfortunately, the taste was even worse than the smell. It took a while for her to even swallow it.

"Thank you," she said, holding the bowl towards Stan.

"No," Stan told her sternly, as if scolding a toddler. "You're going to finish all of it."

"You're nuts! There's no way I'm eating that!"

Chelsea put the bowl on the floor and started walking away, only to be roughly shoved to the hard ground from behind. Before she could even try to get up, Stan straddled her back, pinning the girl's wrists behind her with his knees. He grabbed her hair with one hand, while using the other to scoop up a spoonful of the mushy food. When Chelsea cried out in pain, Stan lifted her head and jammed the spoon into her mouth. After taking it back out, he grasped Chelsea's jaw to prevent her from spitting the food out.

"Chew," he growled, viciously tightening his grip. "If you spit it out, you'll eat it off the floor."

Chelsea didn't want to give in, but the horrid stinging of her scalp was too much to bear. Tears streamed from her eyes as she made herself swallow the putrid mouthful. Once satisfied that she had obeyed him, Stan took the spoon and scooped up more of the meatloaf.

"Stop," Chelsea cried. "I'll eat, just stop!"

"You should've been more polite," Stan said, grasping the girl's hair and shoving the food in when she screamed.

After almost a half hour, the last of the meatloaf was finally gone. Stan got off of Chelsea and stood up. When his captive was too slow in following suit, he reached down and yanked her up by her arm.

"Now, what do you say?"

Chelsea had a good idea of what he wanted from her. She didn't want to give in, but she didn't want to test him any further.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

"Thank you," Chelsea repeated in a shaky voice.

"That's better."

Stan pulled Chelsea towards the mattress and pushed her down, not even trying to be gentle. Then, as swiftly as he'd done so, he was out the door.

Chelsea heard the lock clicking, and a few seconds later, the light went out, leaving her in the dark. As she carefully lay down and curled herself up, she thought deeply about her predicament. Part of her didn't want to believe that Stan was serious about all his threats, but at the same time, another part of her knew he meant every word. She was definitely afraid, but a small voice inside her was telling her not to worry, because this couldn't possibly be happening. A few words of stupid gossip couldn't anger someone this much…could it?

After a fairly long while, Chelsea's eyes finally started to get heavy.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, she was jolted awake by a door slamming. Her sleep-blurred eyes were able to make out Stan as he stood next to the mattress and placed a plate onto the rickety table.

"Get up."

Chelsea stretched out her muscles and tried to rise, but it wasn't quite fast enough for Stan. He reached down and grabbed her elbow, pulling her to her feet and practically throwing her against the hard wall. Chelsea barely had any time to recover before Stan spoke again.

"Eat," he said, pointing at the plate.

Chelsea followed his gaze, staring at the dish's contents. There were two pieces of gooey-looking bread. As much as she truly didn't want to touch it, Chelsea didn't want a repetition of the previous day. Despite the horrid taste of her breakfast, she bit back her protests and forced it down.

Once she was done, Chelsea backed away from the table, her brain overwhelmed by the disgusting flavor, and by the whole situation in general. She wrapped her arms around herself and flinched slightly as Stan approached her.

"Well?"

Chelsea looked at him, not wanting to give in.

"Aren't you going to thank me?"

Tears stung the girl's eyes as her anger got the best of her.

"For what? It was gross! How could you even think—?"

Her sentence was cut off as Stan snatched a fistful of her hair. She failed to hold back a shriek.

"How could I even think what?" Stan spat. "That this is good enough for you? You should be grateful to have anything to eat at all!"

He suddenly threw Chelsea roughly to the ground, forcing a squeal of pain from her. She slowly looked up at her attacker as he continued.

"You think you can have whatever you want? If you're so special, why'd your mommy leave you?"

That stung. Chelsea's mother had indeed left her and her father several years beforehand. Roy had always told her that her mother was a selfish woman who just wasn't ready for a family, and that it wasn't Chelsea's fault, but the girl had always had her doubts.

Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head.

"She…she wasn't ready for—"

"Oh, did your father tell you that? Of course he did. Why would he tell his perfect girl that her mother didn't want her?"

"That's not true!"

"No?" Stan replied, leaning down to look right into Chelsea's eyes. "If your mother really loved you, she wouldn't have abandoned you. How could she love you? How could anyonelove a miserable little brat like you?"

"Stop it!" Chelsea begged, covering her ears.

Stan smirked at this, relishing the sight of the sobbing girl at his feet.

"What're you crying for? Is the truth really that hard for you to handle?"

Chelsea didn't dare look up as Stan bent down to her level.

"Do you want to thank me for your breakfast, or would you rather I give you something else to cry about?"

As much as Chelsea didn't want to give in, she didn't want this torment to go on for another second.

"Th-Thank you."

Nodding slowly, Stan carefully rose to his feet.

The moment he was gone, Chelsea buried her face into the mattress and cried, overcome by the heartbreak within her.

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