Mine

She's mine.
That's how it is.
That's how it should be.


Every bit of her, from the bottom to the top. It's mine. Mine, mine, mine. She doesn't have a choice.

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4. Amaris: Entry 4

7:02 A.M.

Dear Amaris, MY Amaris,

I have started a new page, to tell you my wonderful idea. You're currently in your room, packing a small rucksack full of college stuff, and a handbag full of... Girl stuff.

Yes, your minivan has room for two. Room for 7, actually. But, remembering what you did when you first saw me, that horrific, terrified, but beautiful, sing-song scream, I know I cannot hop into the seat beside you. After all, you don't even know me. Even if I do know you. More than anyone.

When you get into your minivan, you will be driving, Amaris. You'll be in the driver's seat. I'll have to find a way to get into the back without you, my dear Amaris, or your parents seeing me... Or anyone else in the neighbourhood. No one in this neighbourhood knows I exist anyway, Amaris. They think this is an old, abandoned area. The kids and teens think it's haunted- as well as a few superstitious adults. Anyway, no one goes near here. So, if I were to just walk out of the front door (which hasn't been used in 20 years) it would be sure to attract some attention. Also, if I climbed out the window or something, that would certainly attract some attention too. So I need to find a way to do it silently, with no one seeing me. As if I'm in a stealth video game, Amaris.

I have to hurry up and think! you're nearly done packing; and your parents have gone inside.

I'm going to pack some sheets of paper in my pouch-bag thing now, including this one, as well as some knives and other things, alright Amaris? Then I'll find a way to do this.

 

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