Chains is this month's "Featured Book" on my website at http://writeramyshannon.wixsite.com/stories
The Kindle Edition of Chains is always $3.99 on Amazon.com. There is also a paperback version, for those who still love to hold and read a good book. Also, if you get the paperback, the kindle version has a matchbook price of .99 cents.
About Chains: Twelve-year-old Veronica “Ronnie” Lawrence was kidnapped from the steps of her middle school, and taken by Dr. Shawn Channing or as she knew him, “Mister”. Channing kept her chained in his basement dungeon, while he enslaved her and kept her for years. With some inner strength she never knew she had, she survived, the torture and abuse. As she grew up, she truly believed she would never leave and see her family again. Then on day 3855 of her captivity, she was rescued.
Take a journey with Ronnie on how her strength keeps her alive, even when her body is damaged and broken. Can she survive outside of Channing’s prison-like manor?
Excerpt:
1825 Days in captivity
Ronnie hugged herself tightly, shuddering as she leaned against the cold cement walls of the dungeon she called home. Her dark hair was long and scraggly caused by years of only combing it with her fingers. Eventually, her fingers grew tired, as the rest of her body did as well. The tears no longer streamed down her face. Her tears dried up years ago, as in the second day of her captivity. The food her captor, only known to her to be called “Mister”, provided always had some sedative contained in it, but she knew she had to eat or she would die. One time, she didn’t eat, and pretended that she was asleep, so she could see what actually happens to her when she is unconscious. After that, she realized she needed to be in a deeper sleep. Mister wasn’t a gentle sexer. She needed to have that drug so she didn’t feel. But it didn’t matter, he didn’t always drug her. He mostly preferred her to be awake.
Ronnie didn’t know how long she had actually been in her dungeon home, but because of multiple failed escape attempts in the past, she was never allowed to enter into the lighted room at the top of the stairs. She could never break her chains, but when he unchained her, she tried to run, she tried to fight, but it never succeeded, and always made it worse. Mister beat her, tightened the chains, took away one meal, and said the stay in the basement would be longer. She attempted to keep track of the time via scratches in the walls that she made with one of her chain links, but there were times when she thinks she was out for days, or he came down several times so she couldn’t keep track anymore. It didn’t matter. If felt like eons and that it would never end, so it was no point in trying to keep track of her time. It would be forever.
Her ankle was chained and when it became raw, Mister switched to the other ankle, until the former one healed. Then, it repeated. Chains kept switching from ankle to ankle, until Mister decided both ankles were better. Both ankles were never normal again, and the silver from the medal of the chains, stained her skin.
The burlap rag she wore eventually faded, and was replaced with a canvas short-dress. She was glad that she no longer had to smell like rotten potatoes, but the canvas wasn’t much better, it smelled like an old closet. At least it didn’t scratch her body anymore. She no longer knew what it meant to wear underclothes.
Ronnie slept on a mat, equivalent to a gym mat where the inner foam was flattened, with only an old flat sheet to cover herself. She did wish that sometimes she could sleep in the fancy bed where Mister brought her to have sex, as it was just off her own room, but the door was always locked when they were not inside. When he finished with her, with whatever desires he had for her, he stripped her in the shower room, and hosed her down, washing his stench off of her. Only, there was no towel to dry herself. She put on her makeshift canvas dress and returned to her room, and Mister headed toward the lighted room, upstairs. Then, there were the three clicks, telling her that the door was locked. Sounds and smells were the only thing that she could count on. The cement dungeon smelled like dirt and cement, but sometimes, it smelled like bleach when he would make her clean up after herself. She went to the bathroom in a bucket in the corner that the chain barely let her reach.
The only thing that kept her from dying inside were her thoughts of peace, of anything that made her smile inside, her trying to remember the time before she was taken. She even kept an internal journal as she wasn’t able to read or write anything. She learned how to entertain herself, making up stories or “writing” in her mental journal.
Dear Journal, she thought. I wish this day was over. I’m tired and my ankles hurt. Every time I roll over, the chains click together. I wish I could run, run far away, run across the field filled with wildflowers. I can almost smell the fresh cut grass and cold pond water, where the ducks like to land. I wish I could remember where that was. I wish I could fly away. Go away where Mister could never find me. Far, far away.
Ronnie touched her face, as she tried to remember what she looked like. She touched the long scar on her face, the first cut he made to make her his. It was still sore and raw as if it happened yesterday, but she knew, it happened that first day.
She knows that she’s growing up. Her chest used to be flat, and now she has breasts. Her legs used to be shorter, and now, they are longer, but still thin, almost frailer than when she was a child. She measures her height to see how she has grown. Her hips are rounder and slightly wider, but her thin frame still exposes her bones. She had hair on her body, but Mister likes to keep her entire body smooth, so he shaves every inch below her neck as soon as it starts to grow back. The silver dog bowl sits by the mats that represent her living area, and it contains last night’s food, mushy meatloaf and dry mashed potatoes. No silverware allowed. He allows her to eat with a nylon cooking spoon or her own hands.
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https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01I28K3VC/
