Hate To Love

Chapter 1

Oakley

“We are gonna try something new.”

A shudder went through me at those six words. Six simple ones, spoken like it was a good thing to try to do something different. To most, a statement like that would be nothing. Maybe something exciting, maybe a tiny bit scary, but worth it.

But for me, it wasn’t going to be good. It would be the next step in hell, and who knew if I’d survive it.

The last time those words had been spoken by this man, I almost died. More than once. I wondered if finally, this would be the last time I’d have to deal with the crazy ideas of a madman.

As the door clanged shut, echoing off the thin carpeted floor of the basement, stale air wafted in around the man.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed as I stared at him with wide eyes, waiting.

It was always a game with him. One where I always lost, no matter what. I swore that was my purpose. To make this man happy by losing my own sanity.

There had been times when I was kept in complete darkness. Times where the lights were caused to flicker and give me a pounding headache for weeks on end. There were times I was only allowed to eat a certain thing for days, and even a month where I only got barely a bite a day.

“Why are you still sitting on that?” His brown eyes flashed to where I sat before they turned into a glare.

Quickly, I scrambled off the bed, if one could even call it that. The thin mattress wasn’t really even a bed. It did little to help keep any seeping cold during the frigid winters since it lay right on the floor that was nothing more than cement under a layer of carpet.

Winters were the worst since I was moved to live down here. I missed my room upstairs, even if the windows were covered in newspapers and plywood, preventing me from looking out. It had always been that way since my mother dropped me off here years ago.

I was still waiting for her to come back and get me, even though I had long since stopped asking where she was, or when she’d be back.

With my feet on the dusty floor, I tilted my head down but kept the man in sight. Arms loosely at my sides, although I wanted the comfort of wrapping them around myself as my knees shook, I knew better. The lasting marks from the punishment last month were still clear as a reminder of that.

“From here on out, you will address me as Sir, and only Sir.”

I quickly nodded. Even though there were questions that came about with that statement.

Was I to talk? The last order he’d given me was to not utter a word when I was in his presence. Before that, I was told to call him Frank, and before that, it was for me not to address him at all.

Which is why I started calling him man in my mind. It was easy not to utter any of the things he wanted me to call him anyway. I wasn’t the most talkative type of person to begin with, and when I did talk, he’d end up laughing at my voice.

It was one of the many things I couldn’t control. Like my height, or my tone of voice, or my slenderness.

It didn’t help that I was practically starving under his watch.

Most days, I got just enough to keep me alive, but even then I was sure I’d die in this basement.

Or maybe he’d be kind enough for me to get a whole five minutes of fresh air before he tossed me into an already dug grave out in the yard somewhere.

One could possibly ask why I hadn’t tried to run. Well, that was easy to answer. I had nowhere else to go.

Mom always told me about the wolves that came and ate children in the middle of the night if they were found outside. But if a wolf didn’t get me, something much worse would.

I wasn’t sure what all the types of creatures that went bump into the night were, I just knew I never wanted to meet them.

Although, as the years passed with this crazy man before me, I wasn’t so sure staying here would be any better than whatever was out past the walls that held me captive.

“Strip.”

Sir folded his arms across his chest, eyes pinned on me.

Unlike so many times before this, my hands didn’t shake as I lifted the too-big shirt up and over my head. My blond curls landed on my face, tickling the skin.

The first handful of times I had to be naked in front of this man had been one of the worst things.

He hadn’t touched me at first. Only looking and commenting on how small, how thin, and how pale I was.

None of that was any different today as I folded the light gray shirt and laid it on the so-called bed before removing the boxers from my hips.

I refused to look at myself, seeing only disgust at the skin, the scars, and the lack of boy that I was.

Sir’s dark eyes looked me up and down as if I was nothing more than a bug that was trying to crawl on his shoe.

“Still as scrawny as ever.”

Well, maybe if he’d feed me more, I’d actually gain a bit of weight, I thought. I just barely stopped the huff of annoyance from escaping my lips.

“But, I suppose, you’ll have to do.”

He acted like there was no other choice. It wasn’t my fault I was here to begin with. He could just let me go, get rid of me.

“Here. Put these on.”

A pile of colorful clothes was tossed at me. My reaction was too slow, causing them to fall at my feet instead of being caught against my chest.

“Pathetic.”

Bending down to shuffle through the items, I wasn’t sure what to think, or even how to react. Other than knowing I had no option but to put on the clothes, I knew it wasn’t right.

A black shirt, with one side that fell off a shoulder once it was on.

The sleeves went past my wrists, easily hiding the marks that seemed to never disappear.

Scars, most likely. But I hoped they’d fade in time.

With the shirt, there was a long skirt that faded from dark purple to light pink towards the bottom.

The hem brushed against the floor, hiding my feet.

“That, too,” Sir pointed towards the smallest bit of fabric that still lay on the floor. Something I wasn’t sure how to wear, or even knew why. The silky material left nothing to the imagination, which was for sure. “Underwear, slut.”

Picking it up, I eyed the black piece of whatever it was. I certainly didn’t think it was anything close to underwear. But still, I slipped it up my legs, letting the thinnest part of it go up my crack, giving me a non-ending wedgie while the front barely covered my privates.

“When I tell you to get pretty, this is what I want. Every time. A slut like you needs to be pretty for me to show off.”

I nodded one.

I wasn’t a slut. Yet he kept calling me that. I wasn’t sure why he thought I was one. I didn’t try to lead him on. I didn’t tease him. And I sure didn’t like his attention.

“Now,” he paused, unfolding his arms and clapping his hands, which echoed around the room. “Upstairs. In the sunroom.”

Knowing better than to ask anything about his reasons, I quickly walked past the man.

His smokey aftershave was strong, almost causing me to gag.

I knew he smoked, but I never could quite get used to the stench of it.

I kept my body towards the wall, keeping as much space between us as possible.

I didn’t want to touch his beer gut of a belly, hating how squishy and flappy it felt.

Walking as fast as I dared, feeling the material of the skirt tangle between my legs and against my skin, I went up the few steps that led toward the kitchen. Sir was right behind me, a hand right near my butt as if he couldn’t help himself.

I hated his touch. I hated his games. And most of all, I hated everything to do with him.

I just wanted my mom to come back. I missed the days of hiding in my room when strange men came over and there was a lot of laughter and yelling. I missed having a spot where I could at least be safe.

I wasn’t safe here at all. There was no place that I could get away from this man. He had cameras in my room downstairs, watching my every move. I’d seen them, and the proof of them one time when I thought I could not do something he ordered me to do.

Once upstairs, I stopped at the doorway of the sunroom, knowing not to dare touch the door knob. I held my breath as Sir reached around me, pressing his fat belly into my back, as he opened the door. A waft of musty air hit me as I stepped down the one stair into the slightly warmer room.

The sun warmed the area, where in the spring and fall, it was the perfect temperature. But the summer and winter were either too hot or too cold to enjoy the warmth. Today, with the leaves just starting to bloom on the trees, was warm enough to not make me shiver.

“I want pictures.”

Not again, I thought, dread filling me.

“You know the drill.”

I sighed.

At least, I assumed, this time I’d get to keep my clothes on. Since he wanted me to be pretty.

Sir had me pose against the window, in the one wicker chair, and a few other places as he snapped pictures of me in all sorts of positions. A few were up close to my face, some of the other parts of my body.

Shame filled me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I belonged to him, and he could do what he pleased with me. I wasn’t just a pawn in this game. I was the ragdoll hostage, with no hope of ever being released.