“I Won’t” by H.E.R.
I see the prettiest obsession.
Every story title is a song and artist that I have been listening too and below it is a fictional scene that my brain decided to play when I heard it. Kinda like we did as kids during long car rides with our headphones on. I encourage you to go listen to the song while reading the story below. Tap the green heart if you like it. Enjoy!
So this is where 150,ooo Instagram followers gets me huh? Chained in some perverts basement and begging him to feed me. This is the price for pretty pictures in America.
Everyday he tries to convince me that being here is my fault. He says “being someones spectacle” is all I ever wanted, and “now I have a number one fan” so I should be grateful.
It’s funny because I never took the pictures for attention like a lot of girls. I just wanted to take pictures to keep a journal instead of writing. I didn’t make the same face in all of them. I showed all my emotions. I just wanted to look back and see the person I was and how I grew. But you can’t tell a boy that. You could take a picture at a funeral and a boy will still try “compliment” you to get what they want. How the hell are they so evolved but still so basic at the same fucking time?
Ugh… I can’t get too worked up. I need my energy for getting the hell out of here. Can’t wait for him to come down again.
Last night, we got into an argument while he was giving me a sink bath. I wanted to mess with his head so I kept repeating how harassment was illegal, how he knew what he was doing was wrong, how there was so much evidence all over the internet, and how sick little shits like him get all kinds of special attention in prison. He had the demented nerve to say that what he was doing is a “blessing not a burden.”
I’M CHAINED IN A FUCKING BASEMENT!!!
Stay calm. Stay calm.
The argument was apart of my plan.
See he does dumb shit when he’s upset. The argument before he dropped the keys from pacing so hard and they slid right too me. I would have escaped had I not been so weak from starving.
Last night he really messed up. I somehow shook his moral core and he threw a bottle of Jack at me. The bottle neck stayed in tact and had the perfect jagged edge. It landed next to me, and I quickly grabbed it when his back was turned. I wanted to use it when he got close but I needed my rest. As soon as he comes to see me today I putting it right through his neck.
Wait, is that him coming?
Finally. Time to give this piece of shit what he deser… Is that a gun?
“STOP! PLEASE NO!”