(Warning: Cringe, Panic Attack, Frustratingly clueless Trolls, Etc.) Unedited.

The next morning the chief enters with fresh clothes and more water to clean up. I flush since that implied he knew my clothes were dirtied last night. “Wash up and change into these.” The chief orders. ‘He would probably force me to undress if I don’t listen to him.’ I stand carefully. 

My ankle is hurting and throbbing. Letting out a little hiss, I reach down to touch it. I guess all that partying wasn’t good for the healing process. ‘Why is he being so different from last night?’ I rub my eyes and start untying the waistband. ‘Maybe he’s just pissed that I did something like that in his bed.’ I hate how much my hands are shaking and how my heart is in my throat. I’m scared. My shoulders are stiff. I feel the tunic loosen and then start to lower it. My shoulders are now exposed. I grab the front of my clothes and very quietly ask for privacy.

The sound of him approaching makes me look up. I’m shaking. But my jaw is set. I turn my head away slightly tensing as I expect violence. For a second all I feel is heart pounding in my chest. A snort of air against my bare skin and neck makes goosebumps rise on my skin. The chief walks past and collects the dirty towel and water. “Leave the tunic on the ground.” 

“Are you..?” I ask as he leaves. He ignored me. I wait until his footsteps fade away completely and then drop the tunic, put on the new one and tie the old waistband on it because if the other came with a clean one I didn’t find it. 

The next couple of days have been weird, I had the impression that the “party” about me becoming a troll would mean that I would be able to leave the tent. But I’m still under house-tent arrest. The chief, when I do see him, sometimes leaves me gifts and treats my ankle. He’s usually rough and snippy about it but then when he thinks I’m asleep he’s soft and gentle. The mixed messages are confusing but usually he’s gone for hours and hours at a time and I’m desperate for any interaction, even the worse ones. I was able to sleep the days away while healing but now that my ankle is a lot better, I’m bored. I stare at the entrance. I listen to the hustle and bustle. 

Normally I’d amuse myself by playing on my phone, another thing I lost in the fall. Or… other things. But I’m too embarrassed to do that now that I’m being watched for sure. I’ve paced the entire tent so many times that I’ve gotten it memorized. Honestly I don’t know what's worse, the awkward interactions with others I do get or the boredom. My head feels a lot clearer now and I can’t help but wonder if I’d had some sort of brain damage with the decisions I’ve been making of late. 

First the attempts to bring the young troll San with me to the surface to save them which would honestly probably have not worked out very well. At least the lie I told had been a partial truth somehow. Humans of course would be scared of trolls. But that fear would definitely have some sort of military response. The spy that did interact with humans was introduced to the cowardly part of human nature where we’d sacrifice anyone and everyone to survive. They thought he was a bear though. I smirk a little at the comedic image. 

They didn’t need to know that my stepmother was just trying to get rid of me out of jealousy and not as a sacrifice to the Trolls. I’m starting to numb to the realization that somebody tried to murder me. I should have died. I almost find myself wondering if it was all a dream. Maybe I was still at the bottom of the cliff slowly dying and my brain came up with this long stretched out hallucination. I mean magical Troll moss… I sigh and stop pacing, going over to the bed to flop down on it.

I’m not sure what to think about the Trolls, they seem nice. When drunk. I close my eyes hard and open them to stare up at the ceiling. The troll guarding me now, doesn’t like me very much. He snaps and growls anytime I try to talk to him or make too much noise. He once barged in here and I still feel my heart race with adrenaline wondering if he was going to attack me. But at the last minute changed his mind and left. I hate that I have to force myself to be as quiet as possible as well as being forced to stay here. 

I roll over to leaning my head on my hand and for some reason, remember how much I used to enjoy studying when I was bored. I wasn’t super intelligent or some talented genius. I had to work hard to make it.  The memory brings back the feeling of the sun and wind on my face, the smell of the college I’d taken the entrance exams at. The hallways and rooms were much cleaner than those of my highschool. I remember what I was living for, my dreams.

I throw an arm over my eyes and try not to cry. I did everytime I thought about the past. When everything was perfect, peaceful, simple. When my mom’s smile could make everything feel safe. My mom. She always knew exactly what to do and say. 

Needing to distract myself I grab one of the fruits from the bowl and turn it in my hands. Of course since I’ve been a picky eater since I was a kid. All it does is remind me even more of my mom. Instead of forcing me to eat she would have me try multiple variants of the same food to see if there was a way I could like it. Fried was usually the best. I smile snorting at my bad eating habits. I nibble at the horrifically gooey fruit but the taste is by far the best out of all the others. I swallow shuddering and then let it roll out of my hand back into the bowl.

I sit up. I don’t like my current situation. I feel like a prisoner. Is there a specific form of this situation I’d like? Bondage? I feel myself flush heavily remembering how I’d acted toward the Chief. It was just a while since I’d taken care of myself, I tell myself. I felt so much better and clear headed after it. He’s definitely terrifying and objectifying. I don't think I’d enjoy being in a relationship with someone so dangerous. No I’m just romanticizing him like the monsters in the books I used to read.

I take a second to regulate my heartbeat. I can’t tell if I’m not just fawning out of fear towards him. ‘If my stepmother was out of the picture and I got the chance to escape and go home of course I would.’ I groan covering my head with a pillow. ‘Maybe it’s better if I don’t let myself think about it anymore. Perhaps it’d be better to assume I’d never get to go home. That I’d never get to see them again. 

Not thinking about my dad and two potential lovers is harder than I thought. ‘I wonder if they have already stopped searching assuming I’m dead. I should just grieve them all and let them go as well. It’d hurt less. I hope my dad can survive this. What if he has another kid with that psychopath, would she love her own kid or try to kill them as well?’ I shake my head no, ‘I really have to stop myself from ever thinking about them or home again. I need to adjust to my new life. I need to try my best to become a Troll.’

The Chief watches the human silently, knowing now that even breathing too loud could alert the human to his presence. Imagine his surprise when Mottenflugal stares into the distance for a while, face starting to contort and then doubles over a little sobbing. 

‘He must be damaged from the fall.’ The chief thinks, trying to process the emotional whiplash the human constantly goes through. He had literally just gone to the spy to ask for more gifts. Receiving something called a toothbrush and hairbrush, which was part of the human hygiene ritual. He was also going to give a partial apology for blowing off the human when it tried to talk to him for days.

The chief glowers a little bit at the gifts, not liking being so reliant on the spy to help him take care of the humans' needs. He wants to figure out the human on his own, ‘especially when it comes to, my, I mean, the human.’ 

Awkwardly he ruffles the tent flap like he was just entering the tent. The fragile creature lifts his head ear tilted towards him, he wipes his face quickly and grabs at the table. Missing multiple times until finally grabbing the water which he drinks. 

“What’s wrong with you?” The chief asks. The human chokes on the water a little and then looks up, eyes still red from the tears. From his expression he’s no longer sad at least, before his cute little nose scrunches up to show irritation. Confirming to the Chief that his emotions are unregulated and all over the place. He’s tempted to mess with the human a bit. 

“I’m sorry.” Mottenflugal says softly. “I’ll try not to be sad.” He sounds sarcastic now. The chief looks at the weak shoulders sag in on themselves. “You stink.” He says and just scoops the human up under one arm.

He smiles to himself as the other Trolls turn to look at the protesting human kicking and fighting to be released in a mixture of concern and confusion. They all bow respectfully to him as he passes though, not questioning it. 

By the time they get to the pools the human has exhausted himself. He pants wheezily making pained moans. The chief lifted him looking at the outraged expression and then how the face flushed and he squeaked, “Wait, my Tunic!” As he tugs it down.

The chief frowns and tosses him gently into the first pool. The human hits the water and immediately surges back up out of it. Sputtering and startled as it searches for the edge. He grabs onto the side of the pool letting out a sigh of relief he trembles. The pool had a shallow enough part for him to sit comfortably but he clings on to the rim on the deepside. 

The chief grumbles to himself, bothered that his playfulness is always terrifying the toy, if he wanted to be scary he’d do much more than throw him into the pool. Entering the water the chief lets out a contented noise sinking down into the water. He peeks at the human who continues to cling onto the side of the pool like his life depended on it.

Even though he waits there for a while the human doesn’t say anything or ask for help. Tears start to dry and leave behind salt trails. Apparently he’d started to cry silently at some point. The chief frowns, feeling a tension headache. He doesn’t understand. The human loved the pools last time. ‘Don’t tell me it was just because the spy was there.’ He reaches out and picks up the human holding it like did before. The human goes completely rigid and he feels its rapid heartbeat through every point connecting with his body. 

I open my eyes slowly, straightening in pain. I sniff the air recognizing the sulfur smell of the pools and reach to feel the air in front of me, feeling the steam. Looking ahead into thenothingness. The chief allows this movement.