Snippet #2769585

Aimee was too deep into fight or flight, in this case play possum, to pick up on the subtleties of what he was saying. Only one word seemed to stick out to the poor frightened girl. Pet... does he.... intend to keep me? The realization led an obvious look of horror flashing across her face, and she suppressed yet another scream. She had studied these kinds of situations enough through Netflix binges to know that the best thing to do for now was to play along. Be the puppet her captor was asking for, but diligently hunt for an escape at the perfect moment. If she played her cards right, she may just escape this mess.

As her gag was released, a string of saliva trailed from her lips, and she instinctively went to reach towards her chin to wipe it away- forgetting that she was still bound to the chair. Instead, she swiveled her jaw, the joints audibly popping. Itzal.... my new keeper.... It was a strange name for an even stranger situation. She looked over at the creature, or whatever he was, further alarmed by his exuberance. The man couldn't seem to stand still, and was jittering like a child on Christmas morning. He was certainly happy to see her, which led Aimee to believe he was either relatively harmless, or horrifically psychotic. She prayed for the first.

Aimee was relieved to hear that she would be untied soon, but knew that meant nothing in terms of escape. At the moment, she only knew the room she was in, not where she was, or how to get back. She could only hope that the chatty Itzal would slowly feed her clues over time. He seemed to enjoy talking, and Aimee knew she would need to manipulate him verbally in order to survive.

"You know..." She finally said, unsurprised to find that her throat was painfully sore, "I have a feeling that even if I attempted to 'claw ye eyes out,' you'd easily be able to stop me." Aimee hoped that flattery was the first step of earning some kindness, and maybe her freedom.

"I do have a few questions, if I'm allowed them." She looked into his deep eyes once again, but not long enough to be entranced by them. "You... you aren't entirely human, are you?" As she finished her sentence, sorrow and fear became caught in her throat. In childhood, she was raised to believe that monsters weren't real. But here and now, Aimee actually believed that monsters may in fact be real, and they may even kidnap girls in the middle of the night.