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  • Carla Buchanan

BGGM Entry 10: Sunday, December 20, 2026 thru Thursday, December 24, 2026

Updated: Jun 30


This is a work of fiction. Any names, places, characters, and happenings are solely products of the author’s imagination or fictitious retellings. Any likeness to actual events, locations, persons living or dead, is coincidental.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system - except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper - without permission in writing from the publisher.

**Readers 18 and up only please**.








I awake to my entire body shivering, frost on my skin and hair, and the walls of the glass box opaque. That last part is the only good thing about any of this since the frost on the glass doesn’t allow anyone to see inside. The bad thing is that I’m pretty sure I’ll have frostbite if the box gets any colder. I’m at the point where I’ve stopped shivering and know my status will only go downhill from here.

Though, I’m sure Beau has done this before because he takes me to the brink without mortally wounding me. Only minutes after I wake, the temperature starts to rise. I breathe a sigh of relief and manage to fall back asleep on the concrete floor when I see the first rivulets of condensation being to roll. When I wake again the glass is fully clear, and Lacoste Plantation is in full swing with people milling around, seemingly doing work around the property, treating the sight of me like an everyday occurrence.

Some men are dressed in the same all-black uniforms the guards were wearing who carry long sticks with two metal prongs on the tip. One flicks a button at the end of his stick, making a stream of electricity dance between the prongs before he flicks the button again and makes the electricity go away. I turn away from the man when he looks over at me, not at all ashamed to stare. But he’s not the only one staring at me, other people - slaves - in black uniforms mill around picking up every wayward leaf and branch, trimming branches, and washing hovering cars. Thankfully, it’s not as many people as I expected.

I have to pee so badly but I’m doing my best to hold it as long as possible. But I know I’m not going to last long and then I’ll be sitting in it, smelling it, and…

The first tear falls from my eye since I’ve been in the box. Thus far I’ve been able to pretend like this isn’t really happening, or it will be over at any moment. But that’s not the case. This is really a world that exists, and the man I almost married sent me here… a different version of that evil man holds me here

Before I know it, I’m sobbing, the bleakness of my situation hitting me as I sit here in this box whose temperature is increasing with each thought. At first, the heat is comfortable, even welcome, but it quickly turns into something torturous. The feeling takes me away from my thoughts, as my mouth goes dry, and I start to sweat. Even the floor starts to heat, which forces me up onto my feet. The heat makes me forget about my bladder, and when it releases, I curse several times. I try to remain hard and brave and possibly as tough as this world’s Christmas, but it doesn’t work. I start to cry, the cry turns into a sob, and I curl into a ball in one of the corners even though there is no part of the box free from outside gazes. I close my eyes and pretend like I’m not here, like I’m back with the Valentine of my world, spending quality time at the cabin.

Before long, my stomach starts to growl, and the growling becomes a deep cramp that contracts the muscles of my stomach and makes me dry heave. The dry heaving causes more cramping, more nausea, and more pain, which makes me… Let’s just say I will look at animals in the zoo a lot differently now. There are things you can’t hide no matter how much you want if your home is on a twenty-four-hour display.

But I doubt any of that matters to Beau because he leaves me here for two whole days without food or water or a bathroom. I manage not to die through the temperature fluctuations but know there are parts of my skin that have been burnt by the sun shining through the thick glass and the tips of my fingers and toes go numb occasionally and then tingle painfully. My mouth is dry, but I did manage to suck the frost off the skin of my arm, and I caught some of the melting ice particles when the temperature began to rise again this morning.

I know there’s a ventilation system in here, and a drain, and I have a feeling something has been done to the glass, so it doesn’t conduct the rays of the sun as strongly. As bad off as I am, I should be worse. I should have skin peeling on my shoulders and legs from sunburn but there’s only a mild irritation.

It’s not until sometime before the third morning do I feel fresh air again. The locked door opens and I’m too weak to resist or back away. I’m grabbed by rough hands but can’t focus enough to see who it is.

“Are you ready to behave?” Beau’s voice sneers like a man who has made his point, but his ire has nothing to do with me. This world’s Christmas is who he wants to punish but he’s settling for the lookalike replacement.

As much as I want to curse him and tell him he’s an asshole who isn’t a man but a coward I don’t because I can’t risk him changing his mind. I need to be out of this box more than my desire to strangle him to death for making me pay for something I didn’t do. Since I can’t do or say what I want, I don’t say a word, not that I could do so anyway. My mouth feels like my dry tongue has glued it shut and I’ll never be able to speak again. “John, get her out and take her to the clinic,” Beau orders. “Matthew, you go with him. Mark, go get Lydi and Clea and have them be ready to clean her up. I want the doctor to take a look at her before they do anything. He’ll be waiting when you get there. Luke, go wake the housekeepers and tell them I want this box like new before the sun rises.”

There is a barrage of men saying ‘yes sir’ before I hear footfalls go in different directions. I’m then lifted from the box, John doing so without any hesitation or cringing from the scent I know overwhelms him when he opened the door. I start to cry when I feel how gently the big man is with me, but my body has no water to spare so it’s a dry, heaving sob. John pulls me in closer to his chest as he begins a quick walk across through the courtyard that’s been my view for more than two days.

The air fresher, though cold and slightly uncomfortable against my sensitive skin, is a welcome change from the stale air mixed with bodily fluids.

“The doctor will have you back to new by tomorrow,” John whispers as he lays me down on what I assume is a hospital bed. He retreats from the room after another voice speaks up to dismiss him.

“This is the healing bed,” the doctor who fitted me with my brace says. “It can heal minor injuries like cuts, scrapes, bruises, and it will further heal your ankle and burns. You’ll be back at your job in less than a day.”

I want to ask what job that is, but he adds, “Good thing being Mrs. Lacoste’s personal shopper and seamstress doesn’t require much walking,” the doctor says with amusement in his tone. My mind grabs at his words which have told me what my job is here. I’m guessing there isn’t a big demand for black female scientists on this world, at least not any who will hold that title. “It’ll be another few days before your ankle feels completely normal,” the doctor adds and once again I’m in awe of the technology but know that slave labor, a slave’s mind, probably invented this technology only for his or her owner to claim it for himself. “A half-hour to take away some of the pain, then we’ll let you get cleaned up, and then back onto the healing bed for another few hours.”


~~~~~


I’m clean. I’ve eaten and I’ve been given water and surprisingly the solid foods after days without don’t make me sick. My cuts and bruises have mostly healed, and my ankle already feels a lot better. Though, as good as all of that sounds, it only gets me closer to ‘returning’ to working for Lacoste Plantation and preparing for whatever Beau has in store for me. Because I doubt he’d go through the trouble to arrange for me to take the place of his Christmas if he didn’t want or need me here for some reason. Though, I guess the reason could very well be Beau’s ego, a way to discourage anyone else from trying to escape. But the thing is… she did escape.

I smell food but that’s expected since I found out I live in the house staff’s quarters on the second floor of the ‘kitchen house’. It’s the structure on the property where all the food for the main house is cooked and stored, and it’s also attached to the plantation’s clinic. I also know that all the kitchen and house staff have rooms of their own where those who live in the complexes have to have an assigned roommate. Not even those who are married are allowed to live under the same roof because roommates can only be of the same sex. Of course, that rule doesn’t encompass same-sex couples but that’s because having a partner of the same sex is illegal on this world. It’s perfect proof that advanced or progressive doesn’t always refer to technology. As advanced as this world is with its flying cars and downtown area that looked like Times Square a hundred years from now, it’s still a barbaric and antiquated society.

“Are you ready for your first day back? Thank goodness it’s Christmas Eve, which means a half day’s work,” Lydi says excitedly, peeking her head into my room without knocking. I’ve been exploring, going through the belongings of this world’s Christmas, but I have a feeling someone went through the room before I got there. It’s a very impersonal space, only her uniforms and toiletries remain. There’s a television embedded into the wall that makes me uneasy because the news and information are so strange that I feel like I’m watching a science fiction show. There no pictures, no journals, and no decor. I know the slaves are allowed all those things, which makes me wonder why this world’s Christmas didn’t have those things if she’s been living on Lacoste Plantation all her life. Maybe she had those things when she lived in the slave apartment complexes as a child. Maybe when she was moved to the main house to work, she realized being a slave wasn’t something she wanted anymore so she decided to treat the space that way when she moved in.

I then think about the other version of me and her work here being so close to what I do for a living. I also think about how she is also a scientist but because she is black, and a woman, she can’t hold the title on this world.

That’s something else I’ve found out, that the women are almost as bad off as the minorities. It’s why I don’t understand Valentine and Brenna’s relationship on this world.

Shouldn’t that relationship be forbidden?

Maybe because Valentine is free, and he’s treated just like every other white man now? Maybe it’s not just the color of a person’s skin that gets them respect, perhaps it’s money, skills, or simply being one of the few who dare to fall in love with someone who is the right race - at least the right race according to this world.

“You’ve been gone for some weeks now so you might not have heard that today is holiday uniforms,” Lydi reminds me and I’m glad that she does because I have no idea what she’s talking about. When Beau came to is it me, he conveniently left the details of my schedule out of the conversation, choosing to threaten me instead. However, he did mention that my job is to do whatever his wife tells me to do and to be there when he ‘needs me’.

“And what does that uniform look like? I don’t think I saw -”

“Did you hit your head while you were away?” Lydi asks. “You know Christmas is the red uniform, Chrissy.” She then opens the door wider and steps into the room to show me the red uniform that looks almost exactly like the black one, except the buttons on this one are gold. You better straighten up before Yasmin calls you over to dress her. You want me to bring some of Clea’s tea to you? I know you’re not one for holistic medicine, being all sciency and stuff, but it helps clear my mind when I’m feeling off.”

“Yes. Please. Uh… Do I still report to the same place today or is that different too?”

Lydi laughs and shakes her head. “Is it that easy to forget about this life? I guess that’s a good thing,” Lydi adds. “You serve every day, every breakfast, then you go straight to Mrs. Lacoste’s closet to prepare her clothing and get her ready for the day.”

“Okay. Thank you, Lydi. I’m sorry to keep asking all these questions. I’ll be back to normal soon,” I say even though I hope that’s not the truth. I never want this life to be normal for me. I hope to get out of here before that and go back to my world. I hope I can go back and figure out a way to free Lydi and every other slave.

I can never be the Chrissy who meticulously cares for Yasmin’s wardrobe or acts as her stylist/handmaiden. I can’t be the Chrissy who sneaks around with this world’s Valentine or performs sexual favors for Beau because I have to… because he’s my owner. I can only handle this obedient facade for so long before I’m itching to be free and do something fatally stupid to get that way like killing Beau for forcing me to perform sexual favors. Because, after his last visit, he’s made it clear that he will be coming for me sooner than later. Every time I think about him entering my bedroom last night, I shiver with disgust vowing to get out of here before he can make good on his promise to return. I can’t get what he said out of my head and my heart rate picks up as his words replay in my head.

“You belong to me now and don’t get any ideas about being saved,” Beau had said when he came only minutes after the plantation doctor, Dr. Kevin, declared I was fit to return to ‘my’ duties. “That Chrissy has nothing to do with you, she is strong and smart and determined and… desperate in a way you can never understand since you aren’t from this world. You’ve never lived like her; you’ve only ever been spoiled by the freedom your world mistakenly gave your kind. I’ll remedy that flaw soon enough.”

“You’re my kind too from the looks of it,” I’d said, unable to stop myself, and Beau had backhanded me again.

“That may be so but the half of me that’s not is the part who will take pleasure in seeing what you become without your freedom. I wonder if you’re as desperate and as talented as the other version of you. If you are, I might be in trouble,” Beau had said and had adjusted his crotch. He’d wanted me to know exactly what ‘talent’ he spoke of, and how desperate his Christmas had become. I can imagine being that desperate if it means leaving this place and returning home.

I can imagine that it might come down to that.

When I respond to Lydi I don’t mention that Beau has refused to allow me to go to the complexes because Yasmin needs me here to help her get dressed for the party they’ll attend back in the city. Though I know the real reason he doesn’t want me at the complexes, and that’s because he’s afraid of what I might say or do while I’m there. He knows most will think my story is crazy but with the advancements in technology on this world, some will believe me. He knows all it takes is some of us knowing that there is a way out for it to cause him trouble, and I’m sure he doesn’t want trouble. Instead of telling Lydi about my restrictions or scare her by telling her who I really am, I shake my head and want to laugh at the fact that tomorrow is my and my brother’s birthday. I’m sure this year’s birthday will fill my father with a Deja vu he won’t be able to shake. Having another person in his family go missing can’t be easy for him to go through again, especially not after we’d made some progress on closing some of the distance between us. Though, I’m wondering if they think I’m missing at all. There’s a possibility Beau made it look as though I chose him over Valentine, and there’s also a possibility that Valentine believed him. I don’t know what that means for me if Valentine believes I’d lie to him and hurt him like that. I don’t know if me and a Valentine who could think I’d do such a thing, have a future together.


~~~~~


Had I simply read the stupid letter Beau wrote after leaving I might not be in this predicament. That letter might’ve been the truth. Maybe that letter was giving me a chance to hear the truth and talk to Beau like an adult would. But I childishly avoided reading the letter, instead spending time with Valentine. In my case, Karma was swift and decisive, first sending Gray and then Plantation World Beau.

Maybe Valentine and I just aren’t meant to be together. It seems like the universe is showing us we aren’t supposed to be together because even on this world there’s a ‘Valentine and Christmas’. Their love might be forbidden with him being married to Brenna but if the way this world’s Valentine looked at me is anything to go by, they haven’t let him being married to Brenna stop them. Hell, even #2 and his Christmas had a life together before she was taken away from him, and he’s an asshole and a jerk. My Valentine is a good guy, he deserves to be happy…

Maybe it’s me that doesn’t.

Maybe leaving my brother to deal with my father for years is why I don’t deserve to be happy. Maybe because I accepted a proposal made by a man, I don’t love is why I don’t deserve to be happy. Maybe being a horrible daughter who didn’t see my father’s pain because I was so wrapped up in my own is why I don’t deserve to be happy. Maybe allowing Valentine to leave me and stay gone for a decade without putting up a fight is why I don’t deserve to be happy with Valentine now.

Maybe I should just accept my fate, accept my punishment, accept that I don’t deserve what the Christmases and Valentines on every other world have.

“I can honestly say I’m ready for this day to be over,” I respond to Lydi at the same time we hear Beau’s voice. Lydi doesn’t respond, she scurries from the room without saying another word or acknowledging I spoke.

My door opens again, and I think it's Lydi coming back. I open my mouth to tell her that I’d appreciate it if she knocks but it’s not Lydi, it’s Beau. He walks into the room and closes the door and then stalks over to where I still sit on the twin-sized bed. He doesn’t stop, nor does he slow down which makes me scoot away but I run into the corner behind my bed instead of getting away. Beau’s large light brown hand wraps around my ankle through the covers and pulls me until my back is flat in the mattress. In an instant, he covers my body with his and his hands are on every part of me. He buries his face in my neck then proceeds to tear at the flannel pajama pants I have on.

At first, I lie there and take it knowing that’s what I’m supposed to do. Though when my pants are halfway down my legs, and he begins to tug at my cotton briefs, my survival instincts kick in. I go into fight or flight mode and end up doing a little of both when I bite into Beau’s neck like a wild animal. A guttural sound leaves my lips as I do so, a sound I’ve never heard before, and hope I never have to hear again. As I break the skin and wait for the taste of his blood, I think about the Beau of my world betraying me, Gray thinking he can blackmail me into having sex with him, and this world’s Beau thinking I’m going to simply succumb to this life because the history I know from my world says that’s what I’m supposed to do in this situation.

Well, fuck that.

All of Beau’s weight falls on top of me when he reacts to my bite. He grabs his neck and curses and then rears back, removing his weight. He’s about to backhand me for the third time since I’ve been here but my fight instinct kicks in again, and my foot is in his crotch before I can think about what I’m doing or what the consequences might be. He’d taunted me with his crotch on more than one occasion in the short time I’ve been here, and I plan to make sure he thinks twice before he does it again.

Then a thought suddenly comes to mind that maybe I don’t have to endure this treatment again. Maybe I don’t have to endure Master Beau’s taunts and threats. Maybe I don’t have to accept my circumstances like I was beginning to think I deserved to be forced to do.

But I don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.

Those two thoughts take over and I act on them, not even considering what it might mean when I pick up the lamp off the nightstand and hit Beau as hard as I can while he’s still recovering from my kick to his crotch. Beau’s head snaps back, and blood flies from his mouth and nose from the impact of the lamp’s polished, silver base.

It feels like he falls back to the floor in slow motion, like some force in the universe needs me to be able to see the scene this way. When Beau’s body thuds to the floor, the clear brick slides out and away from him. The sight of the device makes my mind flashback to the night he came for me. It was that device he used to shock me, it was that device he used to control the compression cuffs on my wrists, and it was this device he used to open the portal between my world and his.

I don’t think twice, I pull my pants back into place and then go to the device. I grab it and fling the door open, expecting to have to fight my way through Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John with their semi-automatic weapons shooting at me. But no one is there, in the hall or anywhere on this floor, and I suspect that’s what Beau has told them to do to give us privacy. I’m sure he expected there to be screaming and violence, but I don’t think he expected to be on the receiving end of the violence. He’d come here to take out his anger on me for something I didn’t do so he deserves the pain he’s feeling right now.

When I emerge at the bottom of the steps several of the other slaves who live in the house are standing at the bottom. They all stare at me, seemingly not surprised to see me looking wild and carrying Beau’s phone.

“I bit him. I hit him with the lamp,” I say and look up to see John standing there with Lydi. He heard me confess and I expect him to shoot me or threaten me or tell me I’m being apprehended.

But he doesn’t.

“I know the code to the cuffs,” he says and steps forward. I take a cautious step back feeling like I shouldn’t trust him. But John doesn’t reach for me, he reaches for the device in my hand and begins to tap at the screen. “His ego won’t allow him to put a security code on it,” John explains as the cuffs release, the needle embedded into my wrist making me release a breath when it slides out. I push the cuffs off like they are spiders crawling all over me and then look up at John, not knowing how to properly thank him for putting himself on the line this way. “You’re not our Chrissy and you don’t deserve this,” he says and then adds, “I’ll contact Mr. Val and tell him I’m sending you to him and Chrissy’s spot. But you might have to explain who you are. He thinks you’re our Chrissy. She was supposed to find her mother who is the one who makes this device. She’s a slave for one of most famous physicists in the world,” he says and then hands the device to me. “He bought Elise from Beau since Beau didn’t need a scientist here,” John explains but all our heads turn when we hear someone coming. “Go. Now. Down the path to the back of the property and a few feet into the woods past the gazebo.”

I run just like John tells me to do, thankful for my morning runs now that the endurance I built up from not skipping them is saving my life. I don’t let the rough, rocky path allow me to slow down even as I feel some of the sharper rocks breaking the skin on the bottom of my feet.

In less than thirty seconds I’m in a part of the plantation I’ve never seen. There are signposts, like the plantation is a large college campus, directing me to the apartment complexes, the training grounds, and to the outdoor recreational area. I go straight, toward the outdoor recreational area, where I can already see the gazebo coming into view. The wrought iron monstrosity with bare branches crawling up the sides would probably have leaves and flowers on them if it wasn’t winter, and it would be a beautiful sight. However, right now there is nothing beautiful about the gazebo, it looks ominous and threatening, like a warning to turn back. I ignore the feeling and look to my right and left before going straight as John told me to do.

On my right is a long field with a tennis court and basketball court from what I can see. The entire area is empty, and so is the large part on my left. Each side is about the size of a couple of football fields, and on the other side is a thickly wooded area. I can see the tops of the apartment complexes in the distance but know I’m not going that far. As soon as I take a few steps after entering the wooded area, someone grabs me and places a hand over my mouth. I flail and scream and bite the person’s fingers but when he lets me go, I turn, and my eyes go wide.

“V… Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I thought…” I trail off and shake my head. I then throw my arms around him even though I know he’s not my Valentine. However, there’s no time to explain that, and he knows that too.

“It’s fine. It’s what I taught you to do if you’re ever grabbed like that. Come on. I have a cycle hidden just off the path.”



* * *





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