A modern retelling

Mother knows best. That's a phrase that's been in use for a while now - the mentality has always been around. Mother always knows what's best for her daughter, you see. Mother knows how the world can hurt her innocent little girl. Mother always kept me under her wing. I wouldn't say I was sheltered.. it's just that one never wanted to make mother unhappy, and not doing exactly as one was told, nor behaving exactly as one should, made mother unhappy.
It was just her and I, as my father died when I was younger. She never told me exactly how he died, or that he even died, only that he had left home for awhile. But that's beside the point, isn't it?

It happened when my mother sent me out to pick up these silk flowers she had ordered - she loves flowers. The sunlight illuminated the world around me as I caught the bus up to the transit exchange and walked to the store. But by the time I had reached the place and picked up the bouquet, the sky had become a stormy sea of charcoal, and rain thundered onto the sidewalks. What a miserable day! I ran to the bus exchange and took shelter underneath an overhanging ledge. The exchange is always filled with the most.. interesting people. I could see a group of kids over in one corner smoking pot, and another group talking loudly amongst themselves. They looked at me more than enough times, and I became worried when they started to move towards me. It was a rather large group of guys who looked quite stoned, and I decided waiting for the bus would be a bad choice. I walked away from them quickly, down the street towards my house. It was pelting water - I would be soaking wet when I got home - and beginning to darken quickly. I shivered violently, and the bag of flowers dropped from my frozen fingers. With a sigh I stopped and bent to pick it up.. then kept on falling as something heavy hit my head - or was that the sidewalk when I fell? - and I was thrown into darkness.

The vicious throbbing in my left temple was most likely what woke me up first. I didn't even want to open my eyes for fear my head would split open at the exact moment I did so, but curiosity and a dreadful sinking feeling forced me to sluggishly open each eyelid and glance at my surroundings. Doing so shocked me enough to lethargically sit up in awe. I was on a bed whose springs squealed with age, in a cell no bigger than my bathroom. The walls were dull grey, and in the corner was a door I was sure was locked. I wanted to scream out for my mother.. for anyone! But my voice became lodged in my throat like a piece of bone. My vision clouded as I began to feel the cell spinning all around me. Before I collapsed on the bed I thought I heard the door open..

His name is D. I've been here for about three months now. I don't really remember the sunlight now - the window is very small and high up, and it's winter, so it's dark earlier. He brings me meals three times a day, and lets me use the washroom when I ask. I'm also allowed out of my room for an hour to go walking with him around this small place. I still don't know where I am.
He has the whitest skin I've ever seen with bleached hair in two-inch spikes, and light grey eyes. He wears black most of the time, which thrusts the paleness into stark contrast. D wears lots of silver chains on his neck and jeans, and spikes on each wrist. He has a labret piercing (that means his lip is pierced), and tattoos on his wrists and forearms. The people I know would classify him as some punk goth freak, I guess. But he isn't a freak at all. I mean.. I've never been kidnapped before, but he has never tried to hurt me at all, and treats me well. Sometimes we talk in my room, and I've learned so much about him. He's only five years older than me, but he's quite intelligent. He even brings me some clothes to change into when he washes whatever I've been wearing.
D also writes poetry, which I think is awesome. It's actually good poetry and not like the stuff I had to dissect in school. He reads out loud to me whenever he's written a new poem. It's mostly the dark angsty stuff, but it sounds nice. I try and remember some of it-

A butterfly beats its wings
As a bullet takes a life
Chaos theories and irony
Or it's fashionable bad luck

I don't know. I miss my mother, and my home.. or am I just telling myself that? I don't know. I miss the routines I had, I guess. Waking up, going to school, doing homework.. mother would come home from work and we'd say the usual 'hi how was your day?' before going about our business. Mother is the owner of this huge company that deals with grains and cereal and stuff, so I've always lived with more 'privileges' than other people. My room here is so much different than our house.. I don't know anymore. I feel as if I'm not trying hard enough to escape. But.. deep inside.. I don't want to escape. D treats me like I matter.. like what I say matters to him. Under different circumstances I think we'd be the best of friends. Or not - mother would disapprove of him before she even knew his name. I don't even care what mother thinks, or if she's worried about me.. I bet she isn't. I wonder if she's even noticed I'm missing.

Apparently mother had noticed my disappearance. D and I were talking.. well.. kissing. I'm glad we were - I wish I could have seen my mother's face when she walked into my room with a dozen cops to see my 'kidnapper' kissing me. I was.. I was annoyed to see her. I wish she could have just left me alone. I wish everyone could have just left us alone. I was happy with D. It was the exact opposite of what I grew up with, and I loved it. Those six months I spent with him were probably the most happy I've ever been - TRULY happy. Not pretending to be happy, fakely smiling and feeling hollow inside. He made me laugh; he made me feel like I mattered. I don't care if I'm supposed to hate him for kidnapping me. I don't care if I'm supposed to think of him as the bad guy. I'm glad he took me away. He didn't kidnap me.. he SAVED me. He saved me from the road to nowhere.. from being a mini-clone of my mother. He made me realize so many things..
Mother says I was brainwashed. What does she know? Nothing. She wasn't there for those six months. She doesn't know anything. I wasn't tricked or coerced into falling in love with him. I love D, and he loves me. I don't care what mother thinks or says.. I LOVE him. She knows absolutely nothing about me.

I had to testify in court again D. Mother said that if I didn't, I could be thrown in jail. She tried to get him charged with rape just because we kissed. Fortunately the jury didn't buy that. I tried so hard to stick up for him, and say he hadn't done anything wrong. They brought in some psychiatrist to say I was mental and traumatized. It was so stupid.. no one listened to me at all! Since mother's so rich she got the 'best' attorney to defend me. He didn't listen to me either. All I could do was sit there and look at D as the lawyer twisted my words. I wanted to scream. He hadn't done anything wrong! I'm back and I'm safe.. why can you leave us alone? Why won't anyone listen to me?

Hades Leviathan was sentenced to five years in prison. I refuse to even acknowledge my mother's existence. I'm saving up all my allowance for bail money, but I don't know when he has a parole hearing. I miss him so much.. I'm not even allowed to see him, even though I try.
I've changed since D. I've discovered more about myself, I suppose. I'm not popular anymore, but I don't want to be. I don't want that superficiality, I want D. I like what he had.. that freedom to not care what anybody thought. Mother has also noticed my change (that surprises me, I can tell you). She complains that I dress like him, and that I don't respect her anymore. She laments the loss of her little girl. She still doesn't know anything about me.. she doesn't know why I wear black, or why I wear long sleeves even in the summer. If she saw the scars she'd try and send me off to a shrink. I don't need another doctor looking at me.. I just need D.

I wonder the odd time
If taking away pain with pain
Is poetic justice
Strange how some things turn out, really

Mother says it's time for me to take my pills. Who am I to argue? After all.. mother knows best.