The Trapped

14

- S U T T E R S   E M A I L -

FROM: Sutter Canton

SUBJECT: Find Blaire Hawthorn

DATE: November 7th, 2016 9:01 p.m.

TO: Vicky Reynolds, Sarah Longhorn, Joseph Allan, and seventeen others...

Hey everyone, sorry to be emailing so late at night. It's Sutter, in case you couldn't tell from the name at the top.

I am emailing to you all because I want to get a search party together to find Blaire.

I know all of you guys love her and I love her too and I just really want to find her. I can't do it alone. I will need your help.

If you are available tomorrow morning, please meet me at 6:30 a.m. sharp at the coffee shop near our school.

Coffee and Donuts? My treat :)

Please help. Me and many others want Blaire back...

Your time will be gratefully appreciated.

Thank you.

Sutter Canton

Vice-President of Crestwood Preparatory Academy

- A N O N Y M O U S -

11.07.16 // 9.15 p.m.

MY BLOOD BOILS in my veins, each stream of red liquid pumping through my ears feels heavier and more painful than the last. I bite down on my nail while reading the email over and over again.

You can't find Blaire. She's gone, Sutter. Gone. Gone. Gone Just like I was. Just like I am.

My heart breaks for him, it even breaks for Blaire. I know what T will do to her, I know how he will make her feel.

Trapped.

My stomach churns, tying all my limbs into knots that couldn't be undone. My eyes burn with swelling tears threatening to spill over my eyelids. T loves me and I love him, I have to remember that.

He loves me.

He loves me.

He loves me.

He doesn't love me.

He told me what I needed to do, how I needed to act. He told me I wasn’t supposed to feel anything because feelings cloud judgment.

But, I was torn between two people. I want to save Blaire, but I want her to suffer. I want her to know what it feels like to be trapped with no way out, but I also want to hug her and kiss her and tell her how much she means to me.

T loves her too.

The voices begin to sing in my head, a chorus of blood-curdling words. I thrust my hands into my hair and clutch my scalp tightly

     "Stop!" I shout, but the voices ignore me and continue on with their hymns.

There is a young man who lived in a shoe.

My hands begin to shake at my sides. The same hands that had been broken, beaten and bruised. The same hands that had done the breaking and the beating and the bruising.

I begin to shake uncontrollably as I reach for the razor blades that sat untouched on my dresser.

He had so many women, he didn't know what to do.

I shouldn't do this, I know I shouldn't. T told me what would happen if I ever harmed myself again. I throw the packet back and forth between my pale hands.

He gave them all food, just a little bit of bread.

I throw the blades down as I let out a deafening sob that shakes my whole body like thunder. I touch my body, the same body T had touched just a few months ago.

He wouldn't touch it again.

Then he whipped them all soundly and now they are dead.