by Missy Johnson
I wake up in a cold, dark room, shackled to a bed.
Across the room he sits, watching me, his determined expression masking the pain in his eyes.
He tells me I need to be punished for running away from him. He tells me this is for my own good, that in order to survive I need to surrender myself to him.
I’m confused, because he acts like he knows me.
But we’ve never met.
Then it all begins to make sense.
He calls me Anna.
My stomach lurches. I feel sick.
Because I’m not who he thinks I am.
About Missy Johnson
Missy lives in a small town in Central Victoria with her husband, and her confused pets (a dog who think she’s a cat, a cat who thinks he’s a dog…you get the picture).
When she’s not writing, she can usually be found looking for something to read.