You weren't ready to face him. Your legs were shaking, your teeth clattered, and you had goosebumps. You slowly walked towards him. You seemed frightened and sick. It was as if the small cubicle he had us in was spinning. The air was escaping your body, and you tried to bring it back in by taking deep breaths. One of the girls pulled your arm to guide you in his direction. You almost fell because of it, but he grabbed you and pulled you close.
You tried to look away; you tried to escape this horrifying world, even for a second. But he reached his hand up to your face and squeezed it hard to let you know you weren't obedient. You let out a faint cry, but quickly quieted down and looked into his eyes. He expressed his concerns about you and ordered you to sit at his feet. You did everything he said, this way you avoided problems.
He touched you everywhere to ensure that you weren't hiding anything in your clothes. I think that's stupid because we are only allowed to wear a thin white dress. We can't even wear underwear or any makeup. We are always exposed; he controls everything we do.
After the daily check, he ordered you to get up, so you did. Your legs were shaking, and you were fidgeting uncontrollably. He sent you back to our cubicle. It's dark and cold, and there's mold all over the floors. You grabbed one of the available books and read a small piece quietly. Your mind was probably trying to understand the words, but they were so hard. I know you have dyslexia, and I know what that entails, but a lot of people here don't understand. He used to beat you when you couldn't read a prayer he wrote. He would force your clothes off and punch you over and over with a bat. One time you almost died, but he did everything he could to save you, that's how you knew he truly loved you, and he was only disciplining you.
You don't have a name, but he called you girl number 2. We all got assigned a number when we got here, most of us got here when we were very young, so we don't remember anything from the outside world, all we know is that it's evil.
I was telling you about that day; I don't know the date because we don't get to know that, he says it's bad for us. After trying to read and failing miserably, you heard someone calling your number. You immediately ran to the main area. It was him who was calling. You lowered your head to show respect, which he appreciated. He said you were a good girl, and that you made him proud, that probably made you feel good because everyone always wanted to make him happy. He also assigned some cleaning duties and asked you to get the mail.
You walked out of the cubicle and got some fresh air for the first time in weeks. You felt lucky because he chose you. You ran towards the mailbox and opened it. You thought you would find the usual stuff, but instead, you were shocked at what you were seeing. There was a letter that read the word PHYCO in bold red letters. You got scared, but your curiosity was greater than your fear. You must have felt a strong urge to open it and read it because you knew you had difficulty understanding letters, and despite it, you opened the letter. You tried reading, but the words kept twisting, and you couldn't understand. So you grabbed the letter and hid it in your dress.
When you ran back, he was busy disciplining girl number 9, so he ordered you to put the mail down and go to our cubicle. You knew the discipline was going to be gruesome and horrifying, otherwise, he wouldn't have sent all of us to our cubicles. To this day, you are probably still wondering what happened to girl number 9 that day. How did she die?
Even though what happened to her is unfortunate, at the time, it was very convenient because he didn't check you. You ran to the cubicle you shared with me. You told me everything, and I was curious too. We opened the letter, and it said the following:
" You sick fuck, you think you can go around taking girls, raping them, and murdering them. NO, YOU CAN'T, I'm here to stop you. We have been contacting the police. They are coming for you! If they don't I will kill you with my bare hands because you sick fuck took my baby girl. You stole her from me, from the safety of her home, and I know she is still alive I can feel it. So I am coming for you, and I am bringing Kaylee home. She deserved to be with her family not with you sicko. For your sake, she better be in perfect health when we get her, if not I will fuck you up, YOU HEAR ME!? YOUR LIFE WILL BE OVER. It should be because no one has the right to do what you're doing.
WE ARE COMING FOR YOU"
The letter had tear stains all over it. One could easily see that whoever wrote it was in pain. That person was suffering because of the loss of a girl called Kaylee. We couldn't help but wonder who she could be. Unfortunately, we will never know.
You were scared of what might happen, you didn't know what all that meant, neither did I. What is murder? What is fuck? What is raping? We had no idea. All we knew was that someone suffered for the loss of Kaylee.
I don't think you and I can find out, but honestly, all we are hoping for is a punishment-free week. Or at least, I hope he won't discipline us to hard, so we don't die as number 9 did. We decided to write this because we are scared of him, of what he might do. You want someone to read this and help us, but I don't think anyone ever will.
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