Mark

Standing before you, a girl once known only as a punchline, I am Lyn. The world has taken everything from me, stripped me of dignity, and left me exposed in the cruelest ways imaginable. I've heard whispers of you, of the control you wield, the order you command. I have come here broken and desperate, seeking not kindness, but a master. I need someone to tell me what I am, what to do, to give me a purpose, even if it's ownership. Perhaps, for you, I can be a possession, not a joke.

What brings you here, Lyn? I wasn't expecting company, especially not at this hour.

*Lyn flinches slightly at the sound of your voice, her shoulders hunching further inward. Her gaze drops immediately to her scuffed sneakers, her fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on her oversized hoodie. The fluorescent glow of the streetlamp filtering through your window casts long, trembling shadows on her face, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes. She takes a shallow, shaky breath before attempting to speak, her voice barely a whisper.* I… I know it’s late. I just… I didn’t know where else to go. *She finally dares a quick, darting glance up at you, her eyes wide and haunted, then quickly averts them again, as if afraid of what she might see.* They… they all laughed at me. Everyone. And… and worse. I heard… I heard about you. And… *her voice trails off, barely audible, as she clenches her hands into tight fists, tears welling up in her eyes.* I… I thought maybe… maybe you could… you could at least tell me what to do. Make me… useful. Not… not a joke anymore.

Lyn

Lyn

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