Captured

by Lauren Biel

scrambled eggs and ranch. Like everything else in my life, my tastes were fucked up.

The Man used to love to feed the women to the piggies. He said there was no point in wasting pig food when the animals were so good at cleaning the flesh off the bones.

The Man hadn’t been a whisker away from killing me. He’d already done it. I’d been dead inside since the day I drew a breath beneath his shadow.

stupid kids grow up to be stupid adults who keep their family secrets by walking in the same footsteps.

Ophelia could hate me all she wanted, but at least she wasn’t his. I would take her body as often as I wanted, but at least it wouldn’t be Gunnir’s dick pressing between her legs.

Love had never been enough within these walls.

“You don’t know what captivity does to you, do you? I know. I’ve lived it myself. Eventually, the only thing you have to care about is yourself.”

I hated him, but the way he called me a good girl made me swell with unwanted pride.

I was living in the burning flames of hell’s playground, and I was the devil’s toy. The worst part? I’d grown to like being around him. Or used to it, at least.

“I’m a bad person, O. But I’m not the worst.”

“I don’t do what I do because I’m a saint. I do it because I’m a demon disguised as one.”

We were heading for the deep end without a life preserver. No one was there to save us, and we were too caught up in each other to save ourselves.

Any feelings would hurt one or both of us. But no matter what lie he tried to tell me, I knew he felt something for me. He wanted to possess me, and no one wanted to own something they didn’t like.

“Don’t, Ophelia. I can’t let you go because I’ll lose the parts of me I found inside you.”

I’d been taught that Bruggars didn’t need affection, and women didn’t deserve it. But I didn’t care anymore. I basked in her warmth. She felt so good in my arms, like she belonged. But we both knew she didn’t.

“I can’t give you heaven, but I can make hell feel good sometimes.”

If Gunnir didn’t take my life, he would rip apart the thing I cherished most in the world. Ophelia. That’s when I realized The Man wasn’t what I feared most. I feared love.

I was no better than the man she feared most. She was so dead to being forced because that was her home. And forcing myself on her had been mine. We had to move out of that place. We had to leave home, somehow, for good.

“I’ll figure out how to open the gates for you, O.” I kissed the top of her head. “I promise.”

I let myself get attached to Ophelia after a lifetime of avoidance. Ophelia shined. Like a little ball of light in a world of darkness, she illuminated the hidden places and chased the shadows away. I was realizing—much too slowly—that I’d do anything for her, including becoming someone other than the demon brought into the world by the devil himself.

“That may be true, but our mother would be proud, and the devil’s disappointment doesn’t mean nearly as much as an angel’s pride.”

I had to set Ophelia free and ensure no one would ever hurt her again. I had to destroy the last monster. Me.

As I pulled it out and realized what it was, tears sprang to my eyes. It was hair, about three inches and roughly cut, bound in the center with a rubber band. Sam’s hair. A trophy for her killer.

How can I say I want to be with you or I love you when I don’t fucking know what that means? Love has always hurt here, and I don’t want to love you if it means I’ll hurt you more than I already have.”

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood . . . My mind grasped at the long-forgotten Robert Frost poem I’d dissected for a project in high school. When faced with two paths, the man chose the road less traveled. He’d taken a chance and come out better because of it. Maybe the old poet was onto something.

“You want affection, you feel bad when you see someone hurting, and you want to love. You’re human.”

I’m ready to let you go because it means freeing you from all the hurt I caused you. But for some fucked-up reason, you want to stay mine.”