terrified, I confess that the sight of the water alone reminded me of some of my most basic needs, eradicating the fear from me. When he went to touch the bungees that held my wrists, I didn’t even shy away.
“If you try somethin’, I’ll lock you in a closet.”
It barely took a second for him to untie my hands. I rubbed my sore wrists eagerly. I doubted he had been a Boy Scout, but maybe his knot tying skills were a part of Thieving and Kidnapping 101.
I still smiled at the threat. “Taking a page out of the SLA Handbook?”
“Huh?” The chips popped open and he slid a water bottle towards me.
“Um, the Symbionese Liberation Army?” When he didn’t respond, I continued.
“They kidnapped a girl named Patty Hearst in the seventies. Kept her locked in a closet.” I closed my mouth and kept it that way, remembering how most people didn’t like a know-it-all. I tried to be discreet about checking the water for a torn bottle cap before taking a sip from it. He saw me, though, and scoffed.
“If I wanted to drug you, I woulda done it by now.”
I shrugged and gulped. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He smiled and sipped his own water. “Yeah.”
I reached my hand into the chip bag and helped myself to a handful of the crunchy BBQ. The simple joy of it delighted my senses and made me so happy I almost wanted to cry. I closed my eyes and slowly munched on every chip. I savored each bite like a precious morsel. I should have been dead, but I wasn’t. I had somehow been spared and was also eating these wonderfully mundane chips. I laughed to myself and realized I was experiencing some classic signs of Stockholm Syndrome.
“What’s so funny?”
I opened my eyes and took another sip of water. It was warm, but still incredibly refreshing. “Normally I don’t enjoy Ruffles this much.”
His head tilted to the side. “You’re a strange one, ain’t you?”
I nodded, put another chip in my mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. An idea started nagging at the back of my head and throbbed there at the edge of my reasoning. Although I didn’t want to acknowledge it, it still nudged at me to ask, taunting me with its incessant chanting until I would satisfy it.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
He frowned, wiping the residue from his hands on his jeans. “I ain’t.”
“Yes, you are.” Really? Was I really arguing right now with an armed man who stole for a living?
But instead of getting angry like I thought he might, he only pulled another cigarette from a pack and lifted it to his mouth. Briefly, I wondered about that mouth, and if smoking cigarettes so frequently would alter the taste of those lips. I put my hand to my own torn lips but immediately pulled away, feeling the blush spread.
Yikes, Addie, get a grip. I was abominably grateful then that I had been allowed my bag, and again remembered my desire for my lip balm. Unfortunately, however, my abductor didn’t feel the same way, as my sudden movements seem to startle him into grabbing my wrist with one hand while pinning his leg against my torso to effectively prevent me from going anywhere. Although the action wasn’t violent and his grip by no means hurtful, the closeness and the aggression of his act made me catch my breath. Beyond the smell of the clove cigarettes, I could smell aftershave and dull soap. More faded than others, I could see a few scars behind the stubble of his jaw, and one particularly deep mark along his left eyebrow.
It was strange that his chest was moving so rapidly because such a small effort couldn’t have been much for him. But sure enough, he was breathing as though he had been performing some intense exercise. Now I could clearly see what the collar of his jacket had been hiding. It was a rather large tattoo of a serpent, which seemed to dance under the bulge of his pulsing jugular vein.
He pulled away instantly when he realized his mistake, slowly moving to pick up the cigarette that had fallen to the floor.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
My hands were practically shaking when I put the lip balm on, but I was well aware it wasn’t from fear. “That’s okay.”
He laughed and lit the cigarette; the sound filled the kitchenette and made my head spin like a poorly constructed roller coaster. I picked up my water bottle