Collared(59)

I hear the key clicking into the lock, but it hasn’t turned over yet. He’s waiting.

When I close my eyes, it’s dark. It used to feel the opposite. That was part of the reason why I slept so much. Now though, it’s darker when I close my eyes. “I promise. I won’t run.”

I couldn’t run if I wanted to. Those muscles have been turned into mush from the feel of them.

He’s still waiting. I know what for, but in order to say it, I have to build that wall between lives a little higher. I have to make it a little thicker.

“I promise”—the word tastes bitter in my mouth—“Dad.”

He sighs, then the key turns. He’s come in before to change my bucket and drop off fresh supplies, but he’s always ordered me to tuck into the corner and close my eyes. He isn’t demanding that right now.

Is this my reward? All of it or part of it? The chance to catch a glimpse of light—to see something other than black—makes my body rock with a sob. Light. After being held captive by weeks of dark, the slightest flicker of it would light up my whole world.

When the door opens, I’m blinded by light. I have to cover my eyes because it’s daytime for the first time when that door’s been opened, and I feel like the sun’s blasting five feet in front of me. I never knew light could be just as blinding as its counterpart, but I’ve been learning lots of lessons lately.

Even though I can’t see it, I feel it. It’s subtle warmth. It attaches to my skin until I can almost feel it seeping deeper.

The rush of fresh air hits me next. This I’m used to, and it hits me as powerfully as ever. I don’t realize how putrid my world is until I realize what the outside world smells like. I don’t realize how dead I smell until I catch a whiff of life.

I sigh as the fresh air clears out the stale, then I notice the light slicing inside dim some.

“Is that better?”

It’s the first time he’s spoken to me without the door between us. His voice is familiar in that “distant dream” kind of way, but I can’t say from where or if it’s just familiar because every wire in my brain has become crossed and frayed.

“Yeah.” I shield my eyes and attempt to blink them open. It’s still blinding, but I can’t close my eyes to the light again. After being robbed of it for so long, I can’t look away just because it’s too painful.

I hear him step closer, but my eyes are having a hard time adjusting. I can see bright white light and a dark shadow, but that’s all. There’s no detail. No color.

“Everything’s going to be different now, Sara. You’ll see.”

Hearing his voice like this reminds me of the night he took me. I want to slink away from him, but I make myself stay where I am.

When I hear a sharp, rattling sound, I shiver. It sounds cold. Unfriendly.

“This is for your own good, Sara. I know you didn’t want to leave, but teenagers can be impulsive.” The rattling moves closer. “This will keep you from giving in to those impulses.”

When I feel my hair lift, I flinch back. I haven’t been touched in weeks, and his touch is strange and almost awkward feeling. Giving my hair a sharp tug, he pulls me back.

When I cry out, he sighs but doesn’t say anything else. Now that he isn’t blocking most of the light streaming into the little room, it’s blinding me again. Even when I close my eyes, I still see strobes flashing.

“What are you doing?” My voice quivers, and my body is close to following.

He’s still quiet, but when I feel something cold and hard ring around my neck, I panic. I fight against him and it, but I’m as weak as I knew I would be . . . and weaker.

The fight bubbles out of me after a few seconds, then my body goes limp, seeming to sink into that heavy ring being locked around my neck. I don’t even have the strength to lift my hands to inspect what’s there, but I already know. It’s not a necklace. It’s not a noose.

It’s a collar. A metal one that feels at least an inch wide and so heavy I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to rise with it on. A chain dangles from it, and to what it’s attached, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m stuck. The door to this dark room has been removed, but it’s only been opened into a darker world.

I hear him move away once everything’s been fitted into place. I think I’m going to throw up. I think I wish that door had never been opened. I think feeling free to move about a small space on my own is better than being collared like a wild animal.

“I promised I wouldn’t run away.” I slump against the wall behind me and realize I can’t bend anymore.

“And I promised that I’d never let you leave again.” He moves out of the room. “This way, we’ll both be able to keep our promises.”

When I curl back onto the mattress, the chain rattles. The collar cuts into the side of my neck, and I know I’ll never be able to sleep with it on. At least when I slept before, I could escape this world and trespass in the other.

I can’t bend anymore. I’m already broken.





I HAVEN’T LEFT my room in two days. I haven’t left the house in seven.

My parents don’t know what to do. I don’t know either.

Ever since the meeting with the detectives and finding out about the end of my chain being locked to absolutely nothing, my sense of reality, my perception of freedom . . . it’s all changing.