Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Stockholm Syndrome
Paulina woke the next morning with a headache and a sour taste in her mouth. She pried her eyes open, reaching up to rub them roughly, trying to clear away the crystalline residue that had built up over the night. She inhaled deeply and threw her arms out to the sides, appreciating, for the first time, the luxury of being able to wake up alone, without an unwelcome, yet unavoidable, guest. Once her mind cleared, she realized that a strange noise had roused her from sleep, and she sat up to look around the room. Frank was leaning against the wall opposite the bed, his gaze resting on her as she left her sleep state more and more.
“Good morning, Paulina,” he said, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He surveyed the girl for a moment, assessing her person, seeming to push beyond the blanket she was huddled under. “Take these,” he said finally, holding out two round, white pills. “It’s the morning-after pill,” he added as Paulina stared absently into his palm. “To keep you from getting pregnant,” he added at her continued befuddlement. Finally, Paulina’s foggy mind seemed to comprehend, and she took the pills, popping them slowly into her mouth and swallowing roughly.
It was then that she realized that, not only was her head hurting, but so was her lower back and abdomen. It was like menstrual cramps, but many, many times worse.
“Ouch!” she hissed under her breath, doubling over with the sharp pains.
“What’s wrong?” Frank asked sharply, pulling her up and gazing full-on into Paulina’s face.
“I--I don’t know,” she murmured, clutching her abdomen. “It just…hurts.”
“Oh,” Frank said, stepping back. “It’s probably just first-time pains. They’ll go away. Do you want something for the pain?”
“No,” Paulina said quickly, not wanting to give him an excuse to shove assorted pills down her throat. “Thank you,” she added. Frank nodded, studying her for a moment longer before holding out his hand for her to take.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her up and leading her to the door. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He guided Paulina down the hall to the bathroom that she’d bathed in the day before. Only the day before? Had it been that recent? It seemed like a year ago that she’d still had her virtue in tact inside her body, and had not feared losing it by force to a man that had taken her prisoner.
When Frank made her step into the water, Paulina flinched, expecting the water to be scalding hot like it had been the previous morning, but it was actually quite comfortable. Paulina stepped quickly into the tub, not wanting to stand out in the open nude for a moment longer than she had to. She settled down in the water, allowing Frank to lather shampoo into her hair, blinking dolefully, thinking about what had happened last night.
“Don’t let your mind linger on it,” Frank said, breaking the silence, as though he could hear her thoughts.
“You don’t get it,” Paulina said quietly, ignoring him and continuing to stare down a sud-bubble floating on the surface of the bathwater.
“Of course I get it. I’m human.” Paulina bit back the urge to say, “Really?” Those consequences would not be good, by any means. She never realized how daring she was being by speaking until it was almost too late.
“Hm,” was all she said, albeit very quietly. She held her hand up in front of her face, digging under her nails for lack of anything better to do. She began to nibble at the jagged edge, spitting the nail-bits into the bathwater.
“Paulina,” Frank said sharply. “As you’ve been told before, biting your nails is a disgusting habit. If you don’t stop, there will be consequences.” Paulina slowly pulled her hand away from her mouth, letting it plop into the water and splashing a few drops onto Frank’s face. He pretended not to notice, continuing to wash his young charge until he deemed her properly clean.
He helped her step out and wrapped her tiny torso in a towel, guiding her out of the bathroom and back to the room she’d waken up in. Even though he’d told her it was her room, Paulina didn’t want to associate anything or anyone in this house with herself, choosing, instead, to look at everything as belonging to “them.”
“Here,” Frank said, handing Paulina a pair of folded jeans and a T-shirt. She slid the jeans on, relishing in the confinement of the denim material and the coverage it provided. Slipping the shirt over her head, Paulina noted that it was a men’s shirt, and far too large for her slight frame.
“It’s a bit big,” she remarked, plucking at the overly-large garment.
“I could just make you walk around the house topless,” Frank said, shrugging, cocking an eyebrow at the young girl. Paulina remained silent, not knowing why she kept pushing herself closer and closer to the edge. She could keep herself from being punished, as long as she didn’t develop any courage. Courage was a no-no here.
“Now,” Frank continued, walking out of the room. “Follow me.” And she did, out into the hall, down the stairs, and into the empty kitchen. “Sit,” he said, and she obliged, taking a seat at the glass-top table. “Now,” he said, beginning to take things out of cupboards and set them on the granite countertop beside him. “We are going to cook breakfast together this morning, Paulina.”
Paulina nodded, but the confusion she felt must have been showing all over her face. Cook breakfast? Why? There had to be an ulterior motive, but, for the life of her, Paulina couldn’t think of one. She racked her brain, coming up with nothing.
“There’s only one catch.” As there had to be with everything in this house, Paulina thought. “On va parler uniquement en français.” Paulina stared at Frank for a moment, not quite understanding what was going on.
“I--I don’t speak French,” she said timidly, wondering what he’d said. Maybe it wasn’t even French? Maybe it was something else? She was so confused…
“Ah, but you will, ma chere,” Frank said, his voice becoming soft as he spoke another language. “Now, no more English. From this point on, only French until I say otherwise. I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen if you speak a word of English, Paulina.” She nodded, not planning on saying a single, solitary word for the rest of the time in the kitchen. “Pret a faire le petit dejeuner, l’amour?”
Whoahhhh. Sorry for not updating this sooner, guys. I've just been positively SWAMPED with EVERYTHING you could imagine. For the past two weeks, I've been at school every single day working on the one-act show we took to competition. And guess what? We won! So, at least the hard work put in there payed off. Now, however, we're working on the kids' show that we're performing on 3 December for all of the elementary schools in the area. But, I thought I'd try to get a chapter in for each of my stories that haven't been updated in too long. So...here it is. Go comment/subscribe, and I'll see you again soon. Happy Thanksgiving! OverAndOutxx
“Good morning, Paulina,” he said, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He surveyed the girl for a moment, assessing her person, seeming to push beyond the blanket she was huddled under. “Take these,” he said finally, holding out two round, white pills. “It’s the morning-after pill,” he added as Paulina stared absently into his palm. “To keep you from getting pregnant,” he added at her continued befuddlement. Finally, Paulina’s foggy mind seemed to comprehend, and she took the pills, popping them slowly into her mouth and swallowing roughly.
It was then that she realized that, not only was her head hurting, but so was her lower back and abdomen. It was like menstrual cramps, but many, many times worse.
“Ouch!” she hissed under her breath, doubling over with the sharp pains.
“What’s wrong?” Frank asked sharply, pulling her up and gazing full-on into Paulina’s face.
“I--I don’t know,” she murmured, clutching her abdomen. “It just…hurts.”
“Oh,” Frank said, stepping back. “It’s probably just first-time pains. They’ll go away. Do you want something for the pain?”
“No,” Paulina said quickly, not wanting to give him an excuse to shove assorted pills down her throat. “Thank you,” she added. Frank nodded, studying her for a moment longer before holding out his hand for her to take.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her up and leading her to the door. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He guided Paulina down the hall to the bathroom that she’d bathed in the day before. Only the day before? Had it been that recent? It seemed like a year ago that she’d still had her virtue in tact inside her body, and had not feared losing it by force to a man that had taken her prisoner.
When Frank made her step into the water, Paulina flinched, expecting the water to be scalding hot like it had been the previous morning, but it was actually quite comfortable. Paulina stepped quickly into the tub, not wanting to stand out in the open nude for a moment longer than she had to. She settled down in the water, allowing Frank to lather shampoo into her hair, blinking dolefully, thinking about what had happened last night.
“Don’t let your mind linger on it,” Frank said, breaking the silence, as though he could hear her thoughts.
“You don’t get it,” Paulina said quietly, ignoring him and continuing to stare down a sud-bubble floating on the surface of the bathwater.
“Of course I get it. I’m human.” Paulina bit back the urge to say, “Really?” Those consequences would not be good, by any means. She never realized how daring she was being by speaking until it was almost too late.
“Hm,” was all she said, albeit very quietly. She held her hand up in front of her face, digging under her nails for lack of anything better to do. She began to nibble at the jagged edge, spitting the nail-bits into the bathwater.
“Paulina,” Frank said sharply. “As you’ve been told before, biting your nails is a disgusting habit. If you don’t stop, there will be consequences.” Paulina slowly pulled her hand away from her mouth, letting it plop into the water and splashing a few drops onto Frank’s face. He pretended not to notice, continuing to wash his young charge until he deemed her properly clean.
He helped her step out and wrapped her tiny torso in a towel, guiding her out of the bathroom and back to the room she’d waken up in. Even though he’d told her it was her room, Paulina didn’t want to associate anything or anyone in this house with herself, choosing, instead, to look at everything as belonging to “them.”
“Here,” Frank said, handing Paulina a pair of folded jeans and a T-shirt. She slid the jeans on, relishing in the confinement of the denim material and the coverage it provided. Slipping the shirt over her head, Paulina noted that it was a men’s shirt, and far too large for her slight frame.
“It’s a bit big,” she remarked, plucking at the overly-large garment.
“I could just make you walk around the house topless,” Frank said, shrugging, cocking an eyebrow at the young girl. Paulina remained silent, not knowing why she kept pushing herself closer and closer to the edge. She could keep herself from being punished, as long as she didn’t develop any courage. Courage was a no-no here.
“Now,” Frank continued, walking out of the room. “Follow me.” And she did, out into the hall, down the stairs, and into the empty kitchen. “Sit,” he said, and she obliged, taking a seat at the glass-top table. “Now,” he said, beginning to take things out of cupboards and set them on the granite countertop beside him. “We are going to cook breakfast together this morning, Paulina.”
Paulina nodded, but the confusion she felt must have been showing all over her face. Cook breakfast? Why? There had to be an ulterior motive, but, for the life of her, Paulina couldn’t think of one. She racked her brain, coming up with nothing.
“There’s only one catch.” As there had to be with everything in this house, Paulina thought. “On va parler uniquement en français.” Paulina stared at Frank for a moment, not quite understanding what was going on.
“I--I don’t speak French,” she said timidly, wondering what he’d said. Maybe it wasn’t even French? Maybe it was something else? She was so confused…
“Ah, but you will, ma chere,” Frank said, his voice becoming soft as he spoke another language. “Now, no more English. From this point on, only French until I say otherwise. I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen if you speak a word of English, Paulina.” She nodded, not planning on saying a single, solitary word for the rest of the time in the kitchen. “Pret a faire le petit dejeuner, l’amour?”
Whoahhhh. Sorry for not updating this sooner, guys. I've just been positively SWAMPED with EVERYTHING you could imagine. For the past two weeks, I've been at school every single day working on the one-act show we took to competition. And guess what? We won! So, at least the hard work put in there payed off. Now, however, we're working on the kids' show that we're performing on 3 December for all of the elementary schools in the area. But, I thought I'd try to get a chapter in for each of my stories that haven't been updated in too long. So...here it is. Go comment/subscribe, and I'll see you again soon. Happy Thanksgiving! OverAndOutxx
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