Amelia has been encased in a box since she was 14 years old. Tortured by strange men in black masks, beaten and neglected.
As Amelia gets older, she gains more knowledge on her sorroundings. Soon, Amelia makes a plan to escape the horror of this underground torture cave, and to bring everybody along with her.
Using her intelligence, her stunning beauty and her devious manipulative mind, she is hell bent and determined to escape.

 Imagine being forced into an insignificant wooden box, the only air your getting is from small holes drilled into the pale wood. The silence deafening, and the darkness terrifying. The only thing you hear is the small patters of footsteps, the beating of your own racing heart, and the soft sobs of the others.
 You can`t run, You can`t hide, You cant disappear. Just stuck in the small enclosed space, waiting -Praying- that someone will find you. Someone will help you. But no one ever does. Its like you have been forgotten.
 My name is Amelia. When I was just 14 years old, I was stolen. I was stolen from my home, my family and my friends.
 At first, I had been stuck in a cramped metal cage, with a dozen other children. I tried to talk. I tried to ask questions, but they just shook their heads furiously, eyes wide with fear. Soon, I had learned not to speak, for if you spoke, you were beat. They would take you away, take you down the hall to a small concrete room.
 The floors stained with blood, and the room eerily silent. I would wait. Wait for something to happen. But they would just taunt me. Raising knives, guns and crowbars, as if to hit me, and when they swung, they missed me by an inch. But when the time came, the masked horrors would hold me down, slicing the blade along my pale skin. It took everything in me not to scream, for if I did, I would endure another slice of torment.
 When they were finished with their inhuman and cruel games, they would leave, locking the door shut behind them.
 I would wait silently, holding my cuts trying to prevent the bleeding. After hours, someone would come back. They would secure large, scratchy hand cuffs on my wrists. Leading me down the hall, I passed dozens and dozens of boxes, all of them identical to mine.
 Pale in colour, wood thick so no one escaped, and padlocks securing the top in place.
 You could hear cries from inside them. Pleads for help as they sit cramped in the claustrophobic place. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to remember the outside world. Trying to remember what it was like.
 The beautiful colors, the happy children running and playing. But it was all fading into oblivion. Because all I knew now, was a cold, concrete building to which I presumed was in the middle of no where. A place where people were hurt, dreams were shattered, and sick twisted monsters tortured the innocent.
 When I would arrive back to my box, I would get into it silently, and the man in the mask would un cuff my hands, pushing me to the bottom of the box and slamming it shut above me.
 Everything here was terrifying. But I had learned to endure it. Because I knew that their were other little girls and boys, that will be here for the rest of their lives or until killed if someone does not do anything. I plan on being that someone.
 I plan on making those sick evil monsters pay for everything they have done. I will make the cold hearted monsters pay, and I will make them pay big time.

The End

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