A letter to the post man

The door slammed open, the sound reverberating through the tiny room like a gunshot. My captor strode in, his boots heavy against the concrete floor. In his hand, he carried a battered notebook, its edges frayed and stained. Without a word, he threw it onto the floor , the force making me flinch.

"Your life is mine now, oh how brave you looked when you deceived me, you clever naughty little girl "he said, his voice cold and devoid of mercy. " I don't think I need your payments anymore ,it's better I use your life to pay for it but too bad death is such an easy way to punish you"…starring deep at me he added " here "

I stared at the notebook, my bound hands trembling. He reached forward, flipping it open to reveal pages filled with harsh, jagged handwriting.

"Read them," he ordered.

My throat tightened, but I obeyed. My voice shook as I began, each word cutting deeper into my soul.

"Rule one: Speak only when spoken to. Punishment: gagged for twenty-four hours. Rule two: Never make eye contact with me unless permitted. Punishment: blindfolded for forty-eight hours. Rule three: Complete every task without hesitation. Punishment: physical pain for any delay or refusal."

I paused, glancing up at him, but his face was expressionless.

"Keep going," he said.

I swallowed hard and continued.

"Rule four: Eat only what I provide. Punishment: starvation for forty-eight hours. Rule five: Answer every question truthfully. Punishment: locked in darkness with endless screams for company. Rule six: Show gratitude for everything, even punishments. Punishment: public humiliation. Rule seven: Stay silent during punishments. Punishment: prolonged torment. Rule eight: Complete chores on time. Punishment: increased difficulty or physical restraints. Rule nine: Never attempt to escape. Punishment: sensory deprivation for days. Rule ten: Obey without question. Punishment: scars to serve as a permanent reminder."

By the time I finished, tears were streaming down my face. My voice broke as I whispered, "Why are you doing this?"

He leaned in, his eyes like shards of ice. "Because you owe me, Reina. Until that debt is paid, you'll learn what it means to suffer."

The punishments began immediately.

The first came when I screamed in frustration after reading the rules. He was on me in an instant, forcing a gag into my mouth so roughly it scraped against the corners of my lips. "You'll enjoy the silence," he sneered, leaving me to sit alone with my muffled cries for hours.

The second came the next day. He brought me a plate of food that looked barely edible—meat that smelled sour and bread dotted with mold. My stomach churned at the sight.

"You don't want it?" he asked mockingly, taking the plate away before I could respond.

The hunger was unbearable. For two days, he brought nothing, not a single crumb. My stomach twisted in on itself, sharp pangs of pain leaving me weak and delirious.

The third punishment was worse. I had failed to clean the floor quickly enough, and he decided to make me "learn my lesson." He stood over me with a whip, his expression cold and detached as he raised it high.

The first crack of leather against my back sent fire through my skin. I bit my lip, refusing to scream, but he struck again and again, each lash carving into me like a knife.

"You'll learn to work faster," he said, his voice calm, almost conversational, as if he wasn't tearing me apart piece by piece.

When I made the mistake of meeting his gaze during one of his taunts, the punishment was sensory deprivation. He blindfolded me and locked me in a room with no light, no sound, no sense of time.

The silence was maddening. I screamed into the void, my own voice the only thing keeping me company. I begged for release, for someone—anyone—to hear me. But no one came.

The most brutal punishment came when I refused to thank him for a meal of stale, rancid bread. His face darkened, and he grabbed my arm with an iron grip.

"You'll learn gratitude," he hissed.

Before I could process his words, I felt the searing pain of a hot metal brand pressed against my skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as I screamed, my body convulsing in agony.

"This," he said, his voice calm and almost gentle, "is your first reminder of who owns you."

When he finally left, slamming the door behind him, I lay slumped in the chair, my body broken, my mind unraveling. Who was this man? What had I done to deserve this?

I closed my eyes, praying that Alex or Nath would notice my disappearance, that someone would come for me. But as the days stretched on, I realized the cold, bitter truth. I was utterly alone.