You’ve spilled my blood.
You’ve brought me pain.
But what you’re yet to realize… I’m a fighter.
I’ve been broken before.
I’ve even at one point lost the will to live.
So now you know… this information I gift to you.
I’m ready for you, so do your worst.
**Dear Captor explores themes that may be considered triggers for some**
parents name their children with a special kind of love in their hearts. Not
mine though. They didn’t want me, or at least, that’s what they kept telling
me. They only ever wanted to inflict pain. I was nobody until the woman next
door gave me the lovely name Elenore. She cared for me when my own parents
didn’t or wouldn’t.
single day I wished to be taken away from what I endured. Anywhere would have
been good. I would have sold my soul to the devil himself back then, and I’d
willingly do it now. Give my living essence to breathe, to live on. My entire
childhood was a survival story, and now I have another.
blood. Everywhere I look, there are dark pools of solidified blood stuck to the
walls, the floor—my entire cell is covered. The girls who came before me are no
more. Their stories are over. It was gruesome, the stuff of your nightmares.
though—he kept me.
changed my destiny of certain death. It was never in me to give up easily. I’ve
always been a fighter. He never saw me coming, and he never knew my strength.
He was not what I expected either.
captor . . .
bright and sunny Queensland, Australia. She has always been a reader. When she
was little, she’d be up late reading Garfield
and Asterix comic books and also Footrot Flats. When Liz hit high school,
they gave her Tomorrow When the War Began
by John Marsden, and from there her love of books continued to grow.
notebook and pen beside her bed for when those late-night ideas pop into her
head, plus she’s a stationery addict and loves pens, notebooks, and, well,