Papa's Prisoner

by Alice Everly

Papa loves her too, she knows, in his own way. That’s what he always says, he loves her and it hurts him just as much as it hurts her when he punishes her. She had a hard time believing that. She was the one with the bruising and markings, it just didn’t make sense to her.

  Papa tells her every day how much he loves her despite his punishments, despite his rules, and she knows he takes care of her. Papa brings her food and dresses. Papa is her family now. She must continually remind herself of that because Papa is all that she has anymore. She’ll never see her old family ever again, Papa told her that.

  Lydia can see her old house from the window in her bedroom. Just the roof and half of the backyard. She can see her old swing-set that still sits empty and lonely now and she can see her mother’s rose garden that has become overgrown over the years. It isn’t much, but just seeing it brought her such hope for the first two months and she would rock in her rocking chair and just watch, waiting to see something, hoping to catch just a single glimpse of her family. She would pray they would look up and see her in the window even though she knew she was too far away and the windows were far too thick to offer much hope. Her family never saw her, they never came to rescue her and the rose garden grew over with weeds.

  Papa kept her locked in that little room for the first few months. The gray stone walls became her prison, the room would echo with her cries. The room was sparsley furnished. There was a small bed in the corner of the room dressed in pink, the perfect little sleeping place for a far younger girl than herself. There was an old wooden chest that held a handful of children’s toys; a tin jack-in the box, a dusty pink stuffed bunny, and an old rag doll with a missing eye.

  Papa would dress Lydia in a different colored dress each day, all of them covered in a crisp white pinafore. Lydia often wondered if Papa ironed those pinafores or if he sent them out to be cleaned. It was difficult to imagine the large man doing laundry. After dressing her each morning he would twist her hair into braids or pull her hair up into pigtails and he would speak to her like she was but a child and not the grown adult that she was.

  The first time he entered her room to dress her, she fought him violently. She’d been locked up for days before he tried to dress her. She was an independent woman and she had reached a breaking point. She’d been locked up for too long, she wanted to escape and screamed at him as she attempted to hit out at him. But Papa was a big man and had come well prepared for the battle. That day would become the before and after of her time in this house. Before she’d truly experienced the lengths he would go to in his attempt to tame her. It would be the first real punishment she’d ever received and it was the first time she would visit his punishment room.

  She’d never been spanked in her life, never before been physically disciplined. What he did to her that day was so brutal she often wondered how she’d survived.

  She thought she’d lose consciousness, actually prayed that she would, but he was always aware of what he was doing, always making sure that she didn’t escape her punishment so easily and her screams echoed through the castle falling on deaf ears.

  Papa finished his punishment off by dressing her in the exact dress and pinafore he’d brought to her before, pulling white panties over her swollen and bruised cheeks. He slipped on white lace socks and black patent leather shoes to finish off her outfit. The shoes were too tight, pinching her toes, but she feared saying that to him for fear he would do far worse to her. So she allowed him to dress her like she were the little rag doll, barely moving, limp and broken.

  He left her there on her bed after he was finished, left her crying into the threadbare blanket until she slipped into sleep. That was how Papa always got what he wanted, if she fought him on anything she would be dragged down the hall and subjected to his unique and brutal punishments.

  In those first weeks she’d rarely left the room, but Papa never failed to dress her in the childish dresses and ridiculous shoes. She’d sit in her rocking chair, holding the doll to her chest as she watched the real world below her, wishing she was back there, praying she could return to her real life. With each passing day that turned into weeks and then into months, her hope began to fade and she began to accept the fact that her independent life was now gone and she would forever be trapped in the gray stone prison.

  Chapter Five

  Lydia quickly lost track of the time passing as weeks turned into months. Seasons had come and gone in a blur as she watched the weather change from her window atop the castle. It became easier not to think of the time she’d spent outside this room, outside this stone castle. Her life had become nothing but the castle now and her only family was Papa. It was easier to believe that, but on days like this she would remember her life before.

  Her fingers danced along the glass of the window as the snowflakes outside landed on the pane before melting before her eyes in an instant.

  A giggle escaped her lips as a big fat snowflake landed right where her pale tiny fingerprint had been. The memory flooded over her, Jonathan, her brother. Whenever it snowed so much that school was cancelled he would bundle her up in her snow clothes and they’d head out into the yard to sled and build snow forts. Jonathan would always stockpile snowballs and inevitably start a snow fight. They’d laugh and scream and fall into the snow piles. She remembered one time when she was little, probably around five years old, he had thrown her into a pile of snow and rather than cushioning her fall the snow had sucked her under. Jonathan had frantically searched for her, digging through the snow until he saw her pink and white snow suit. He called out to her, calmly telling her he was going to get to her, don’t worry. He found her and dug around her, then pulled her up and hugged her to him before they’d both fallen back to the snow again giggling and making snow angels.

  A trail of tears tracked down her cheek. She’d forgotten what it was like to laugh like that, she’d nearly forgotten about laughing at all. How can a person forget about laughing? Sure it wasn’t like she had much to laugh at in this cold castle, let alone smile at. She pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the window, watching as the snow thickly blanketed the entire town.

  Lydia quickly fingered away the tears as she heard Papa’s footsteps in the hall. He would be angry if he knew she’d been thinking of her brother, of her old life at all. She scrambled to her rocking chair, clutching the rag doll tightly in her arm and she began rocking, her eyes riveted to the snow falling out the window.

  Papa entered the room without knocking, not that he ever knocked, he owned the place after all. He didn’t say a word as he entered and pulled her from the rocking chair by her arm. She squealed as his grip latched on like a bear trap. Papa pulled her to the door and she steeled herself for the inevitable pain that would follow, but rather than lead her down to the punishment room, Papa turned in the other direction.

  Surprised, she looked up at him, almost more afraid of the unknown than the punishment room, “Where are we going Papa?” she asked anxiously.

  She was rarely allowed out of her room. The only time she left was to visit the punishment room or the tiny bathroom beside the punishment room. She’d had to eat and sleep in that maddening room for lord knew how long.

  “Are you going to be a good girl for Papa?” He asked her as he led her down the stairs and through various halls, continually questioning her on her manners and grace.

  “Yes, Papa, I’ll be a good girl and do as you say,” she replied obediently, her thumb slipping into her mouth as fear made her legs tremble with each step. What was he planning to do to her? Was her time here finally up and she’d be disposed of just as the girl before her had been?

  Unsure where he was taking her or what he planned on doing to her, she felt as if she was being led into the lion’s den. Nearly all her time at the house had been spent in that room and now she felt as if she was walking into a trap. She prayed this would not be the end of her life, but at the same time, she wondered if she would welcome it just the same.

  Although Papa
was her enemy, she found herself clinging to his hand. He was the only thing she had to protect her from the unknown. He had become her solace and her hell.

  “Lydia,” Papa said their journey ended in a large sitting room, “say a proper hello to Papa’s friend, Mr. Brian,” Papa looked to a large man sitting in the room.

  The man was taller than Papa with his dark hair cut short. He had a broad angular chin that spoke of confidence or maybe arrogance? His eyes though were light, almost as faint blue as her own, and somehow she felt fearful of the man because he was so different from Papa. She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do. It had been so long since she’d seen another person, another man.

  “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Brian,” she responded as ordered, trembling with fear.

  A year ago, Lydia would have run to the man and desperately begged for help. She would have begged for him to take her away from this sick and twisted house, save her from Papa. Yet, now that she had the opportunity, rather than run to him for refuge, she just stood there clutching Papa’s hand, terrified of what was to come.

  Lydia had been through too much. She knew if she did that, if she tried to escape in any way, she’d face serious consequences from Papa. She didn’t want to end up like the other women. What if Mr. Brian was just as sadistic as Papa? What if he already knew that she was being held at this house against her will? She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t risk becoming just another one of Papa’s girls.

  So she played along with Papa’s demands. She sat on the man’s lap, she followed what Papa ordered. And somehow in a twist she’d never expected she was now driving away from the stone castle with Mr. Brian, her stomach twisting with fear and excitement. She had finally escaped from Papa. Sure it was by his order that she went with Mr. Brian, but she was out of the castle. She was out of Papa’s clutches.

  It didn’t matter that she’d lost another year with Papa, it didn’t matter that another birthday had come and gone while she was trapped in his house. She’d missed spending another birthday with her family, she’d missed going out to buy her first drink or partying with her friends. None of that mattered anymore because Papa’s house had become her life for too many years. It didn’t matter that nearly three years had passed since she had visited his house so innocently. All that mattered now was that she was finally leaving Papa’s house, she finally had an opportunity to go home.

  Her eyes snapped open with fear. Had she been asleep or just reliving everything she’d endured at Papa’s hand? She wished she could forget all that had been Papa, all that she’d been through. Could she bury those memories and start new happy memories or was she destined to forever be subject to one monster after another?

  Her stomach turned as she realized that Mr. Brian had basically just purchased her, like she was actually up for sale like some kind of prostitute. Or had that been some type of sex trade? Her mind whirled with the possibilities. What did this all mean? Was she truly free from Papa or had she just transferred from one prison to another?

  She went from being owned by one man and then owned by another.

  But Mr. Brian was far better than Papa, right? He couldn’t be quite as cruel as Papa. She’d seen Mr. Brian’s eyes, they were kind eyes beneath that stern face. Maybe she could tell Mr. Brian that she’d been kidnapped, he’d surely let her see her family then, even if he did have to pay for her. Lydia was certain her family would reimburse Mr. Brian. The taste of possible freedom was bitter on her tongue. Was it possible she could finally go home?

  The nerves built inside her as she shifted in the seat of the car, hoping Mr. Brian was a far better person than Papa had ever been. Was this her big escape or was it just another descent into a different kind of hell?

  Chapter Six

  “You’re awake,” Brian said as she shifted in the seat, “are you hungry? We can stop for some food? Thirsty?” He asked.

  She shook her head, “I’m not hungry, Mr. Brian,” She said softly, “Papa doesn’t like me eating anything past lunchtime, and I already had something to eat at noon.”

  Brian’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel and her stomach fluttered. Had she made him angry?

  “That man isn’t your Papa, you realize that, right?” he looked to her for an answer.

  “Yes, Mr. Brian,” she tugged at the hem of her dress, “are you my new Papa now?” she asked, silently wishing she could tell him everything, wishing she never had to utter the name Papa again. She wanted to tell him about her real family, but fear had her holding her tongue after what Papa had threatened her with right before they left.

  “You can call me simply Brian, you don’t have to call me Mr. Brian, and certainly not Papa,” he turned onto the highway and dialed a number into his cell phone, “Yeah,” he spoke into the phone, “it cost me a fortune, but I have it done.”

  Why was he talking like she was just an object to pick up? Was he going to sell her to someone else now?

  “I don’t know,” he continued into the phone, “let me figure out what to do next.” Brian hung up the phone and then reached over to her. She flinched but then held out her hand to him when she realized he wasn’t going to hit her, he just wanted to hold her hand.

  “He was cruel to you, wasn’t he?” His voice was so gentle, so caring that tears instantly began to stream down her cheeks, she nodded silently, “How did you ever find yourself involved with a man like that?” Brian asked, taking an exit off the highway and winding his car through the city.

  She didn’t dare tell the truth, she yearned to, but she knew the consequences if she did. Papa would beat her, she knew that, and Brian was clearly a friend of Papa’s so he might tell him to beat her himself, she didn’t really know Brian.

  “I’m just so tired,” she said, “I want to go home,” she began to sob, dropping her head in her hands, unsure how to deal with all the emotions that were slamming into her and stealing her breath from her chest.

  Brian sighed, “I’ll take you home Lydia,” he said gently, patting her hand as he tried to drive, unsure how to deal with the situation, unsure what to say or even what to do with the woman now that he had her, “I will take you to your next home but that,” he motioned behind them, “that is no longer your home. I refuse to take you back to that man.”

  He steeled his jaw, no matter if it was what she wanted he wasn’t going to subject her to that man, she’d just have to get used to that idea. “I have one more stop before we get to my house,” he said as he swerved the car to the side of the road and pulled into a gated parking lot.

  Lydia’s heart dropped when she realized where they were. The big blue sign should have been a welcome sight to her, but not in her current situation. Any other time, arriving at the city police station would offer her solace, but being brought there by her new captor, the man who had just bought her like a new shiny toy, well it was like a punch to her gut.

  “Why are we here?” she asked and for just an instant she hoped that Brian had recognized her, surely there had been missing posters posted throughout town. She was certain her family would have looked for her and had her face all over the place.

  “I work here.” He said simply.

  For just an instant she had thought Brian was different than Papa, she’d thought he’d be kind, but now, pulling up to the police station made her realize that she couldn’t really trust him at all. He was just like Papa but with far more power behind him.

  His confirmation that he worked at the police station had her heart dropping and she knew at that moment that going home to her family was going be completely impossible.

  Everything Papa had said to her in her bedroom as they packed her belongings suddenly took on a far more sinister spin. The police-the men in blue, the supposed good guys who Lydia had been told her entire life that she should run to if she was in danger of any kind they were involved with all this. It was devastating to realize that those same police officers were actually involved in this twisted game she was prisoner to and
the very man who had just bought her like a piece of meat was one of them. Lydia realized that she officially couldn’t trust anybody, not even the police.

  Brian rounded the car and opened her door, reaching out his hand for her to take. Lydia put her hand in his, taking the only comfort she could. She walked beside him, not realizing what she looked like. She wore the childish dress with the crisp white pinafore, her lacey socks and black patent leather shoes. She didn’t notice all the attention she was gaining from everyone as they passed until she noticed a man pointing at her. Brian though didn’t seem to notice or care about the stares and whispers. She inched closer to him, dropping her face to stare at the cement.

  “Well, well, well..who do you have here, Bishop?” A rough looking man asked as he leered at her.

  Frowning, Brian pulled her possessively to his side.

  “That’s enough Lewis,” Brian kept walking through the parking lot and through a door that he used a card to enter. He led her down various hallways until he stopped at a long desk.

  “Hey Bishop,” the dark haired woman stood nearly as tall as Brian and smiled down at her, “you must be Lydia,” she said with a warm smile, “Brian here has told us all about you.”

  Lydia looked at the woman, she seemed like a nice woman, like a refuge she could run to, but she was leery of even her.

  Was the whole police department in on all this or really what had Brian actually told them? If he had told them she was his girlfriend or worse yet, his daughter, she wasn’t sure how to react to the woman. The idea that the whole police department was corrupt just served to solidify her thought that she couldn’t trust the police any longer.

  “I want prints and pictures,” Brian ordered the woman, then his voice gentled as he turned to Lydia, “I’m going to leave you with Lisa here and I want you to do what she says. I just have to grab some things from my office and then we will leave.”