"Sienna!" Mom yells at me.
I have my elbows on the table during dinner time. Again.

"Only low class people put their elbows on the table." She continues.

Mom is very class conscious.

God forbid anyone ever slurps their drink or chews with their mouth open in her presence.

Dad likes to say that mom has delusions of grandeur.

Maybe dad and I are the delusional ones, eating dinner with our elbows on the table.

"Is it okay if I go out a little after dinner?" I ask my parents, looking down at my plate.
I haven't managed to finish all of my food.
Dinner is steak and potatoes.
I'm not much of a meat eater.
Mom says that only hippies become vegetarians, so mostly I pretend to like meat.

"Where are you going?" Dad asks demandingly.

"I thought I'd go over to Laura's." I say quietly.

"Well you thought wrong. You're not leaving this house after dark." Dad says before downing the last of his wine.

"Bernard!" Mom scolds.
Wine is to be sipped, not guzzled down. Another one of mom's ridiculous rules.

The truth is that I didn't want to go over to Laura's.

I wanted to go meet François in secret.

François is my next door neighbor and secret boyfriend.
He moved in about three months ago and I've had my eye on him ever since.

Luckily for me, my bedroom window looks out onto his bedroom window.

I had to do a lot of hard work to get his attention, but eventually I did.

About a month ago, he yelled over the wall between our backyards to talk to me. Ever since then, we've been sneaking off to the field beyond our backyards to go and meet up almost every night.

Sneaking off is difficult.

Sometimes my parents let me go out after dark and then François and I can sneak off.

When my parents don't let me out, I am forced to jump three meters out of my bedroom window and wiggle through a gap in our fence to get to the field.

It doesn't matter, I'll do whatever it takes to get to him.

We have a standing arrangement to meet at midnight.
We wait half an hour and if one of us doesn't show up at the field after that, we know that the missing one didn't have much luck sneaking out.

At 11:55pm I put on my shoes and jump out of my bedroom window.

I wiggle my way through the gap in the fence.

I walk a few meters further into the field to a tree that François and I usually meet under.

At 12:39am, François still hasn't shown up. I get ready to leave, but a man approaches me from behind.

"There's been a terrible accident at my house, Miss!" He cries, clutching to his stomach. I think I see blood.

"What happened?" I ask. I am alarmed and scared for this man.
He looks like he's in his late forties.
He is balding and has wrinkles.

"My wife was shot!" He cries bitterly, "You have to come with me and help, Miss!" He insists.

He reaches for my hand and I give it to him. I am concerned for him. We walk in panic for what feels like a kilometer. And then I realize that he is no longer clutching his stomach.
His hands don't have blood on them.
He isn't wearing a wedding ring.
Fear fills my entire body as I have these revelations.

I scream as loud as I can for help, but this man clamps his hand over my mouth.
He drags me on the ground for what feels like an eternity until we reach a shack like structure in the middle of nowhere.
He drags me into the shack and locks the door.

"That was too easy." He grins as he wraps tape all the way over my mouth and around my head.

Why would he trick someone like this?

Who would do something so sick?

What did I ever do to him?

Why is he doing this to me?

He begins to tape my arms behind my back.
I grunt the entire time.
I'm trying to tell him to stop, but all that comes out is grunting noises.

"You're never going to see the light of day again." He smiles.

I am so terrified.
My jeans are covered in dust and dirt and I think I peed myself a little.

I glance around the tiny shack. There's a single bed over in the corner and a really small kitchen.
There is no sign of a bathroom whatsoever.
He only has a little lamp, so the shack is dark.

I look at his pale skin.
It's dirty.
He's big.
Way bigger than I am.

"We're going to have some fun tonight." He smiles.

I shake my head no.
I know what he wants to do to me.

He kicks me in the chest so that I am laying down flat.
He pulls off my jeans aggressively.
I try to scream, but nothing comes out.
He hurts me so badly that I wonder if I'll ever be able to walk again.

"I didn't enjoy that." He says bitterly afterwards.
Maybe that means he'll let me go.
I'll never tell anyone what he did to me if he just lets me go.

"I'm going to punish you." He says as he walks over to the kitchen.

He comes back to me with a butcher knife and he slices my leg open.

I try to scream, but nothing comes out.

I don't know how long he's been holding me captive for. One day fades into the next and all he does is hurt me. Yesterday he cut my face.
A big, red line across my forehead.
Today he decides to give me a change of clothes.

A simple white shirt and a pair of his underwear.

The shirt is way too big for me. I've lost weight rapidly, because he rarely ever feeds me.

"No one even knows that you're missing." He smiles at me as he eats a peanut butter sandwich on his bed.

Is that true?
Surely my family is out there looking for me?
Surely François is looking for me?
My mouth is taped shut, so I can't even argue with him.

Weeks and months go by like this.
He hurts me and hurts me. All day, everyday.

One day he takes me outside of his shack.
For a moment I think that he's willing to let me go. I think of seeing my family again and a tear leaks out of my eye.

"On your knees!" He yells.
I drop down onto my knees.
"I hate you!" He screams, pulling a gun out of the waistband of his jeans.
Then he shoots me in the head.

At least I got to see the light of day again.