Chapter 2

Grandma and Grandpa knock on my bedroom door. I put a smile on my face before inviting them in. I keep my room clean, cheerful, and pink. Pop music plays over my stereo. It’s everything a perfect well-adjusted teenage girl could want. Grandpa kisses me on the head, and Grandma pulls me into a fierce hug whispering, “You are growing into an amazing young woman Violet. Never forget that they loved you very much. They would be so proud of you!”

The only good thing that came from the tractor-trailer slamming into our car and cracking my spine was the trust fund their deaths left me. The doctors said I’m lucky to be alive. That I’m lucky to still have feeling in my legs. Lucky to have even a little muscle control. I don’t feel lucky.

Hugging her back, I force tears into my eyes and a tremble into my voice. “Thank you, Grandma. You and Grandpa mean everything to me. You took me in and gave me a home when I lost them. I would not have made it without you.”

After they leave I lock the door and I head to the computer. I open the folder called “HappyBirthdayTo_Me” and I feel the first real smile of the day on my lips. I reread my notes and return to my careful search. My smile stretches wider and wider.

When I finish, I’ll have a perfect companion. A beautiful redhead with an ass that is even nicer than Danielle’s, preferably someone heterosexual.

Picking something off the floor, or a shelf, will be as easy as pointing. A simple grocery trip will be fun, instead of a frustrating ordeal. I won’t care about cold rims. Taking a bath, getting dressed, even wiping my ass will all be simple again.

Then, once we are alone, she will fetch my crop. She will carry it in her mouth as she crawls back to me. I’ll watch as she strips, spreads her legs, and crosses her arms behind her back. Her tears will fill her eyes, and her sweet screams will fill my ears as I beat her. I’ll make her beg for permission to lick my feet. I’ll explore every inch of her body, slowly, painfully, and thoroughly. She will fulfill every need, every fantasy, as my helpless plaything. Her entire being will be focused on one thing. Keeping me happy.

I’ll wake up in the morning to the smell of coffee as she brings me breakfast in bed. The evidence of my fun showing up as bruises, scrapes, and cuts across her aching body. She will be trained well. Staying close, in easy arm’s reach, as she reads my schedule to me. Her words falter when I grind my nails into her sensitive skin, but she will never resist. Once I’m finished, I’ll dump the remains of my breakfast onto the floor. If she did a good job, I’ll let her lick it up. Then I’ll pick out her outfit. Something that covers the evidence of our play. We will pretend that she is my personal assistant, but we both will know that she is my slave.

I have many plans, but first, I need to find the right people. I can’t overpower anyone physically, so need to hire muscle. Someone willing, able, and smart. Someone that can think long term. I’ll happily spend millions on the right person. I’ll also need to find the correct target. Preferably someone that is studying to be a physical therapist, although the only absolute requirements are that she is beautiful, female, and has a weakness I can use to force obedience. A lever strong enough that she will obey - even when she would rather die.

It’s going to be hard, but with over 300 million people in the United States alone, I’m sure I can find someone for both positions. I’ve been searching through colleges with good physical therapist programs and digging through criminal records. I’m getting closer. It’s just a matter of time.

Nothing teaches patience like being in a wheelchair. I’ll be careful and safe. A mistake here could have just as profound of an effect on my life as the car crash that crippled me. In just 17 months I’ll have control of my trust fund.

Everything will change on my eighteenth birthday.