Lost & Found

I come to, feeling the usual soreness in between my legs, across my backside, across my face. The pain was a constant reminder that I was still alive, but I couldn't take it anymore. I had dreamed of freedom from this place, but my captor held the key and he was always an ever-present obstacle. As long as he was there, blocking my way, the route to freedom was impassible. I would also have to consider the bounds around my wrists. I was kept in an upright position, rarely clothed besides the times my captor dressed me in terrible excuses for garments. It may have looked fashionable to him, but I felt all the more exposed. My wrists had grown numb due to how tight the cuffs were made and they always throbbed when they were released.

And I wasn't alone. For a good year, I was, but to the monster that kidnapped me, me into this body, on what he thought was the anniversary of me being taken from my home, he brought a visitor, an unwilling one if I may add. His visitor was a man, an Asian guy in his twenties, to transform into the body of an Asian college girl. There were moments where I was glad I wasn't the one being focused on. I spent a whole year being the only thing that caught this beast's eye. There was relief when it was someone else, but the cries reminded me of my firsts and I had nothing but sympathy for the girl. A year after that, another was taken, one of my peers into the body of a petite blonde. He... she had received the worst of it. At times, I wanted to take her place, to keep her from making those blood-curdling screams. I wondered if anybody heard us.

Wherever we were, I believe no one was around to listen, much less was able to investigate or rescue. It felt like no one, not even a higher power, cared for us. Put us women in the real world, we'd be slaves to the consequences. We had no identities save for the ones we used to have. But no one would identity me as Devon Garcia. I'd be a living Jane Doe, just like my two sisters here.

But I saw a light, an opening. It seemed my captor had celebrated too much, molesting and violating the blonde an inch from . He had used penis enlargement pills and made the mistake of consuming along with it. I felt sorry for the blonde. I didn't know her name, or what she used to be called before becoming this man's favorite object to . She lay there, underneath his filthy body, almost motionless save for the weak heave of her chest, rising and falling against the weight on top of her. He left the door open, left ajar with his foot no less. I called out to the Asian girl, “Hey, hey, wake up!”

She didn't answer nor did she come to. She was still breathing, that much was true, which was good, but this opening was fleeting. I could save her and the blonde, as I was the stronger one, used to the and torment and also, thanks to how our captor could only focus on one girl at a time, I was the more rested.

My captor excelled in and being in control, but I found that he was bad at securing things. Over time, the bolt that held my cuffs above my head had loosened, but I dared not to pull it out if the exit wasn't opened. I was biding my time, waiting for the right opportunity. The man was out cold and this was my chance. I used whatever strength I had left to yank on my cuffs, causing the bolt to loosen from the wall. My wrists were feeling the pain, but over the course of three years, I had grown accustomed to the sensations.

After five minutes, there was slack in my bounds. One last tug and the bolt had fallen to the floor with a loud thud, but even that couldn't even rouse the man from his drunken stupor. I searched his body for the key and found one that released my cuffs. I tried other keys for the other two girls' cuffs, but I couldn't find the right ones. I had time, but what I didn't have was the command over these girls. One was resting and the other couldn't even move. If I freed them from their bonds, they'd need more than energy to move on their own. I dropped the key ring, finding no need for it outside the room where we were bound and spent every minute when not as the man's company. I found a filthy shirt, which looked like a dress on my smaller frame. I did not have the mind to wonder if this was one of theirs, before their smaller bodies had shrunk from its comfort.

Move Devon, move Devon, I kept telling myself. The longer I stayed in this man's house, the more chances he had to wake up and recapture me. I had to increase the distance between me and him. It was fortunate for my case that this man lived alone, probably outcast from regular society. I'd probably be in the same situation, but maybe someone would have sympathy for an almost naked woman. I just hoped I didn't come across someone equal or worse than this man.

I got outside, finding myself wandering in the night, in the middle of a rainstorm that soaked my body and hair. I had no shoes to protect my feet, but any pain underneath me was better than the ordeal I received in other places. It was a relief to be washed in mother nature's tears. The cold of the night and the chill of the wind dropping the temperature across my skin at least kept me awake and aware of where I was going.

I found I was in the middle of nowhere at first, but found a familiar street sign. I was in a forest on the outskirts of the city. The suburbs I lived in was not far, I thought, but I knew I couldn't make a beeline for my house. I was but a half-naked young woman, soaked to the bone in this storm. My chances of being seen by someone was high if I followed the streets. If a cop found me, good, but I couldn't take my chances with anyone else. There was a chance someone from that house or someone who knew the man who kept me could catch me and drag me back to that hell. No. The safest places for me were either a police station, a hospital or at my house, the latter being the closest one.

I hid behind bushes and guardrails and whatever else I found to hide from the exposure of headlights. Once on the street where my house sat on, my chances of being found by the right people were high and that was a good thing. But I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop until I was in a safe place and where I could give the authorities the information and general location of that house of torment.

Soaked, filthy, probably bloodied and bruised, and most of all tired, I made it to my house. The light in the window was a good sign, though my parents did have a knack of leaving a light on whenever they went out, to deter those who had an idea of breaking in. I didn't know what day it was, whether it was a weekday or weekend. They could be home or they could be out. At least there were familiar objects around me.

I approached the front door, seeing a modern doorbell next to the handle. I pressed a button, causing the device to emit a high-pitched sound that resembled that of an old-fashioned doorbell. I expected a voice to call out, but nothing filled the silence after the doorbell sounded. Just the wind whistling through the neighborhood. I pressed the button again, once more causing the device to emit the doorbell's chime. And again, no voice. I tried calling out, hoping someone would hear the plea of a young woman. “Hello! Mom! Dad! Anyone! I need help, please!” I cried out with my weak, higher-pitched voice. I pressed the button twice more, pleading for help to a point that I felt it was still decent for me to do so. After getting no answer, I give up, having no energy left to hold myself upright. I drop into a fetal position, using the wall to hold me up, but even that is not enough as I fall over to my side.

If no one answered, I held hope that one of the neighbors would hear the pleas of a young woman crying out into the night. Unless I had stumbled upon the wrong neighborhood and these houses are nothing but model homes. In my cloudy thoughts, I felt like I was dreaming. Dreaming of the moment that the door actually opened. I look up to find the door cracking and figures appearing...