The Plan Begins…

coyOh, my dear diary. I haven’t written in days but it’s not because I have nothing to tell you; I have so much I need to get out of my system although I hardly know where to start. What happened the other night threw me into such a physical and emotional state I don’t think I have even been fully conscious since then; I’ve just been kind of drifting in and out of sleep, in and out of a comatose, zombie-like state. I don’t really feel fully recovered even now, but I’m not going to be able to hide out for much longer and so I have to write down what happened. Recording events in this way doesn’t of course change them and it can even make it more painful for me, but in some strange way it helps not just by enabling me to sort out my feelings, but also because I somehow feel more in control. I know that actually makes no sense whatsoever, but it’s true.

So, the other night I entered the house by that loathsome, heavy wooden door (I hate that door because even just the simple act of pushing it open triggers a reaction in me. My body knows that something awful is probably about to happen.)

I saw Mr. Negulesco sitting exactly where he had been the other night. He called me over and of course I went straight to him. I was almost happy it was him; just like I had been the other night before. But, this night wasn’t the same. Either something I did must have made him angry with me or maybe he had just had a bad day, but… I don’t know… he was different. And I was scared.

He pulled my top down and told me to take off my clothes. Then he pulled me on top of his lap and… we… well, you know, he was inside me. Each time we do something it is so different. Each time, even if it’s the same act, it’s completely different and I don’t know what it will feel like or be like. It was almost amazing… it felt really good but how is that possible? I didn’t want him to be doing what he was doing but then again… it was just… so good. How? Why? Well, you know how I feel about Mr. Negulesco. Confused, yes, but sometimes it’s… oh, I don’t know! Sometimes it’s scary and awful but it’s always just… oh, it’s impossible to describe!

But I must have done something or said something wrong. I didn’t think I did; I was sure I was doing what he wanted me to do. Like the other night, he dolloped that slimy gel into my hand and told me to put it on my bottom. I did so, but, maybe I didn’t do it right or something because he seemed angry.

Then he… it was so scary! He moved quickly around me and then he was standing behind me. I was half standing, half bending over and leaning on the armchair. This time he didn’t send me off to bed or to go clean up. This time he was actually going to do it. And he did. And it hurt so much. I think he was right; I think I just didn’t put enough lube on or something, despite wanting and trying to do so. It hurt so much! Oh, dear diary, I was gripping onto the armchair so tightly I was sure I was going to rip holes in it but I didn’t care. It felt as though he was cutting and tearing me in two.

I can’t forget that. I can’t forget how he hurt me so much.

Yes. That’s it! That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out these past few semi-zombie days. Thank you, my sweet diary! I knew you would help me!

I thought that Mr. Negulesco had sort of a soft spot for me. You know, not a weakness and not any real feelings but a kind of gentle something towards me. I even felt like he would somehow protect me from the other men if they got too rough or scary. Ha! What a joke! How wrong could I have been? He loves seeing me cry and he wants to see me scream. He doesn’t care if I take days to recover from what he did to me in just one evening. He doesn’t care!!!

And that hurts me so much. I think I was just making it all up in my head as a way to cope with being a prisoner here. I think I needed to pretend to myself that he liked me a little bit so that I could justify not trying to run away; not being brave enough to do everything I could do to get free. To think I even had a chance at freedom and I threw it away! Oh, I’m so stupid.

After he had used me he took the dress I had been wearing and wiped his semen off with it. Then he threw it at me and told me not to wear clothes any more; only underwear. He wants to make me feel uncomfortable. He wants me to be sacred of him. Well, I’ll show him! I’ll find a way to get the better of him and I will escape this awful place! I don’t know what I’ll do yet. I don’t know how I’ll do it. But I’ll find a plan. I’ll figure something out. I will!

Maybe I’ll fool him into thinking I love him and that I’ll do anything for him and then when he thinks I’m all sweet and fragile I’ll kick him right in that dick of his that he keeps hurting me with. Oh my! I don’t usually talk like that!!! But I feel so angry now and that gets me braver than I usually am.

Maybe I’ll just keep disobeying him until he gets tired and fed up of always correcting me. Of course, I won’t do it obviously. Oh no, I’ll pretend that I’m trying hard and that I really want to please him but in reality I will “accidentally on purpose” bring him the wrong drink/wear the wrong clothes/touch him the wrong way/say the wrong thing.

Maybe I’ll find another man like Sir Liam or SeaHawk who will really fall in love with me this time and really take me away. Without even asking Mr. Negulesco’s permission. Steal me away from him right from under his nose!

Would he even care? Would I care if he didn’t?

Oh, stop it, Clara! Stop being so silly. He doesn’t care about you at all. Worse, he even likes hurting you! You have tried so hard to be good and well behaved but it hasn’t helped you, has it? No, it hasn’t! So figure out what you’re going to do and do it. Okay?


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    • Clara says:

      What? But I did do it! I did! I think so anyway. I tried to…

      You confuse me. Stop confusing me! I am so sure of something and then suddenly it’s like I have no idea any more and everything that I was really sure of just a moment ago seems false.

      Stop doing that! Please.

      • Carlo Negulesco says:

        All you had to do was pulls your cheeks apart, and you said “no” – you told ME “no”. And here after I took you in, gave you shelter and food, and you would tell me “no”. Cut right through the heart you did with that. No wonder I lost my temper and got angry and such.

        • Clara says:

          Oh. I see. Oh, Mr. Negulesco, I am so so so so so so so so so so so sorry!!! I hadn’t understood that was why you were angry. I didn’t mean no like that. I promise. I’m so sorry!!! I was scared and I was trying to say, “No, please don’t do that to me. I wasn’t saying, “No, I won’t do what you just told me to do.”

          Can you forgive me, please? I do appreciate what you have done for me, I promise I really do. Please don’t feel angry or hurt; I couldn’t bear it.

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