I awoke to clanking in the kitchen. I hadn't thought to close the bedroom door. The clock read 7:41. Eight o'clock was soon approaching, the ax being raised.

James was in the kitchen, cleaning up my dinner from the night before. I rolled back over and closed my eyes.

"It's almost eight, Corrine," he yelled. "Up and at 'em."

His voice was blending into my subconscious. Next thing I remembered he was sitting on my bed and shaking me.

"Corrine, let's go. It's time to get up."

I didn't budge.

"Are you tired?"

I didn't answer.

"OK, then, I'll take that as defiance. I assume you don't want to work out with me today?"

"No shit, Sherlock," I mumbled into the covers, half hoping he heard me. I pulled the comforter over my head. He didn't say anything for a few moments. Probably weighing his options.

"Corrine, look at me." He pulled down the comforter and pushed my shoulder down, forcing me to look at him.

"Tyler and Dan keep reminding me there is always an adjustment period, but you're treading on some pretty thin ice here."

I wondered what experience Tyler and Dan had in all of this anyway. Did they kidnap their own little dolls, too?

"And I don't think you want to go down that road. You have two choices here—you can either work out willingly, or I can make you work out. But either way, you will work out."

"You can't make me work out, James," I said, snottily.

"Would you like to find out?" He stared me down.

I scooted over to the other side of the bed, pulling the covers over my head once again.

He got up, pulled down my covers, and said, "Have it the hard way."

He picked me up in one scoop, like I was as light as air. He was much stronger than I gave him credit for. More like Dan was when he tore me off the wall.

"Let go of me!" I wriggled in his arms and managed to swing one leg free. I pushed against his chest and touched the ground with both legs. He had a good hold on my arms now and wouldn't let go.

"Ow! I said let go!" I tried to knee him in the groin, but unlike Tyler, James was able to block my kick. In return, he gave me a powerful punch to my gut, so strong I buckled over in pain. It knocked the wind out of me. Even with such force, I had a feeling he was holding back.

I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. After a few seconds, he pulled me up by my arms as choking sounds came out of my mouth.

"You just had to go there, didn't you, Corrine?"

He sounded more inconvenienced than angry. He dragged me by the arm out to the family room where the equipment was as I gasped for breath.

"Help!" I managed to muster. "Can't . . . breathe." Tears were streaming down my face, and I thought I was going to die right then and there.

"Lift up your arms," he instructed, but he did it for me. "Try to take deep breaths."

He gave me a few minutes to regain my composure. Slowly the oxygen pulsed through me, and I was able to breathe more easily. But my stomach felt like a bowling ball was in it.

James placed his hands on the sides of my neck and cradled my face in his hands.

"Listen carefully to me, Corrine. I do not like hurting you like that. I get no pleasure in it. But if you give me no choice, I will have to punish you. When I give you instructions, you need to follow them, whether you like it or not. If you don't, there will be consequences. Sometimes severe consequences."

My eyes were magnetized to his. I was going to think twice before I pushed the limits again. I should've learned the first time.

"Got it?"

I nodded my head in agreement but couldn't speak through my tears. All rebellion and freedom seeped out of me. He took a deep breath. A new beginning.

"Now, let's start our workout," he said with excitement, shaking off the negative energy.

James nudged me onto the treadmill and turned it on to a steady walking pace. I had never been on one, so the buttons all looked foreign to me.

"But I'm not dressed," I protested.

"Then I suggest you be ready next time," he said simply. "I'll start you on a slow pace, and we'll work up from there."

This is slow? I thought.

He left me alone while he began working with the weights. After a few minutes, he increased the speed on the treadmill to a very fast walking pace. I was already a little winded from the first speed. I really was out of shape.

"How long do I have to do this?" My stomach was killing me from the hit, and the faster I breathed, the more it hurt.

"As long as it takes."

"Please, James, my stomach's killing me."

"So, what's the lesson in this?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," I conceded.

But he didn't respond.

In a few more minutes he increased the speed again. I was going to have to jog now. I was sweating and in my jeans and t-shirt and no shoes. I was so uncomfortable, and it was only going to get worse.

"Can I at least put some shoes on?" I huffed. "I can't run like this."

"You didn't seem to have a problem running on the street the other day. Nope, you had your chance to get dressed. Maybe you'll be ready tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. We'll be working out every day."

Great.

He increased the speed again.

"Oh, come on! I can't keep up," I protested between breaths.

"Then don't complain," he smirked. I held onto my stomach.

"You'll be able to run easier tomorrow. When your stomach doesn't hurt. Assuming there aren't any more problems."

I jogged along, careful not to say a peep to make James angry. I was fuming mad. The intensity was increasing, and I held the side railings to keep steady.

I was up to twenty-two minutes, according to the console. I didn't know how much longer I could continue before falling off or passing out.

"James . . . please . . . stop," I begged. My eyes pleaded with him, and he chuckled.

"OK, I think you've done enough—for now." He turned it off, and I slipped off, holding my sides, huffing and puffing.

"We'll work on increasing your aerobic strength as the weeks go on. Now, let's work on your muscle strength."

Oh joy!

He instructed me on the free weights, varying the exercises and positions. This was much easier to me than the damn treadmill, even though I felt my muscles stretching and burning. Anything was better than running.

"OK, nice job!" James announced, patting me on the back. I flinched at his sudden encouragement. "I'm impressed with your body strength. Before you know it, you're going to be in great shape. OK, go hit the shower and relax."

He gave me a big smile as I walked away suspiciously. Yeah, relax. How do I do that? I wondered.

I hopped into the shower and felt my muscles ease as the cool water ran down my body and through my hair, taking my body's heat and sweat with it. Afterward, I got dressed and didn't think twice about my hair or makeup.

When I opened the closet to find something to wear, I wondered how long it was going to take me to get from a size twelve to size ten then to a size eight.

James's very own Barbie doll.

* * *

The events of the rest of the day were far removed from me. It was as if James moved around and through me. We had a lunch of sandwiches together, and James continued to try to make lots of chit-chat with me while I focused on keeping my food down. We had barbecued chicken for dinner, not that I saw a barbecue anywhere. But he said that's what it was. Who cared?

The rest of the time, James left me alone to acclimate to my new life. I checked out the bookshelf in the family room. Some of my favorite authors were represented—Jodi Picoult, Stephen King, Maya Angelou, Jane Austen, and many others.

I must be living in some bizarre Stephen King novel, a Misery entrapment, I thought. I certainly didn't want to relive an Annie Wilkes temper tantrum.

I had a feeling these books would be my salvation. If I were lucky James would keep stocking me with new books. Anything to help me escape my reality. Wasn't that the purpose of reading?

By the time dinner was done and cleaned up, I was exhausted. I had hardly done a thing all day, but I felt so drained. Ready to tune out.

I went to bed wondering what I was missing in this equation. James had to have more in store for me than what just happened today. I ran to the bathroom and threw up all of the possibilities.



What does James have in store for Corrine? Would you comply? If you're enjoying this, feel free to vote and continue on to Chapter 12. Thank you.