My name is Natalie Milligan, I am 17 years old. I was 15 when it happened. It's been two years since I last saw the sunlight. I'm all alone here, yelling is useless so I just sit in silence. I look around the dark place where he keeps me. My only light would be from the tiny window a little to the left from where I lay handcuffed to the cold stone wall. I lay sprawled on the cheap mattress that serves as my bed during the night. I shiver at the cold breeze from the open window, you would think i'd get used to it, but I never did. The man who brought me here was currently standing in the corner of the basement-like room I'm in. He just stands there watching me, honestly this is better than the alternative. Some times he comes here drunk, when he's drunk he'll beat me. I let my fingers graze the bruise on my arm from the night before not caring that it hurt. I allow my mind to wander thinking back to the day I was brought here. I run my fingers through my tangled dark hair shuddering at he distant memory.
I was just 15, I remember that night well. It was early that night and I had just stormed out of my house. I had been angry, thinking back it was a stupid thing to be angry about. My mom and I were arguing about something stupid, I can't even remember what we were arguing about. The only thing I remember about that night was what happened next. I had been upset so I stormed out and began to walk in no general direction. I even remember the time I stormed out, 7:38. I remember it was the 20th of December, 2011. I walked slowly staring at the the ice patterns on the ground. I recall that it was empty and very quite, which wasn't unusual the area had never been busy. I remember hearing my mom yelling out my name. I remember looking up at the cloudy sky and seeing tiny snowflakes rain down on me. What happened next wasn't clear. I remember hearing footsteps running in my direction, I remember looking behind my shoulder and seeing a tall man. The skinny man grabbed me and muffled me panicked screams by putting a paper bag to my face. I don't quite know what happened after that. Next thing I remember was groggily waking up with a blindfold covering my eyes. I found myself handcuffed to what I later found out was the back of a van. My mouth was also covered so screaming was useless. The man must have knocked me out again became I found myself later waking up to where I am now. The blindfold and scarf around my mouth were gone and in front of me was my kidnapper.
I remember yelling at the man "Who are you! Where am I? Why do you want with me!?" The man looked into my blue eyes and ignored my questions. He spoke with a voice that would only belong to the mad man he was. "There's nothing I want from you" he talked slowly and it was obvious that he didn't exactly know how to talk. He walked with a limp in his left leg and constantly swung his arms back and forth. That first day I screamed endlessly which was useless and I pulled the hand cuffs and found that there was no chance they would open. The man didn't seem to care about my yelling. Three times a day he came in with food and water. The food was obviously stolen but at that point all I wanted was to be set free. Sometimes he sat next to me patted my cheek and ran his fingers through my hair. Sometimes I thought he treated me like his personal living doll the way he dressed me up in various dresses that he most likely stole. He seemed to enjoy brushing my hair with a doll brush, anytime I tried to keep him away from me he'd beat me hard. I eventually made no more objections and let him do as he pleased.
Now I lay down and let myself cry as I thought that I probably would never get back home. Something tells me that I'm not the first girl he had done this too. I only know that I'm probably going to stay here until I die unless someone found me. I hope everyday that somebody will find me. That first night when I eventually fell asleep, I only woke up screaming from nightmares of what this man might do to me. Everyday I can't help but think what would happen if he wanted to get rid of me. I wouldn't think he'd let me go, I think he's a kind of man capable of murder. I fight to stay awake to keep the nightmares from returning, every night he haunts my dreams, I just want to go home.