to me. At the same time, it’s sickening too because I shouldn’t feel anything close to comfort from this man. He’s my captor, not my roommate or friend.
Leaving me sitting on the couch, he walks up the stairs and pauses at the top. Leaning forward, I curiously watch as the door opens, and he walks out. Not even a second later does the door close heavily behind him. As soon as I’m alone, my chest feels heavy. I’m trapped and alone. Complete quiet blankets the room. All I can hear is the swooshing of blood in my ears and my own soft breathing.
Do something! My brain screams. He said it will be a while before he leaves again, so this might be my only chance.
I spend the next two hours looking for a way out of here while trying to find things I could possibly use as weapons. With each passing minute, my hope diminishes. My first thought was to get a weight from the gym, but of course, that was the only door that was locked. I beat my fists against the door for a while before giving up.
The fork was pretty much the best protection I could find. The second thing I found was a lamp with a heavy bottom. Taking off the shade, I do a few trial swings with it. I can do this. My anxiety is through the roof. I’ve never hurt a person before, never punched someone, never drew blood, and now I’m about to try and take out a guy bigger than me with a lamp.
A few minutes later, I hear the door at the top of the stairs open. Oh, god. With the lamp clamped tightly in my hand, I scurry across the room and hide next to the stairs. I flatten myself against the wall and say a silent prayer. My heart is pounding so loudly I fear he might hear it. Sweat forms against my palms as I adjust my grip while listening to him descend the steps.
You can do this. It’s this or nothing.
His body comes into view, and I see that his arms are full of grocery bags. Perfect. Shutting all rational thinking down, I move out of my hiding spot and swing the lamp at his head just as he turns in my direction.
I catch him across the face instead of the back of the head like I had planned. The lamp smashing into the side of his face.
Shit! My hands tremble as I drop the lamp to the floor at the same time, he drops the grocery bags. I take an instinctive step back when he lifts a hand to his face in slow motion. When he pulls his hand away, I see red on his fingers.
Blood. He’s bleeding. My lungs burn, and I freeze. The look in his eyes is murderous, rooting me in place and turning the blood in my veins to ice. All I can think is, this is it, this is where he kills me. Where he beats me and ties me to the bed. Where I die a slow, painful death.
“Fuck, I told you to be good.” He’s almost growling like an animal, his lip is curled as he takes a threatening step toward me.
“Please.” I lift my hands to protect my face because I know what’s coming. I know he’s going to hurt me. Bracing for the pain, I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut.
Except the pain never comes. Instead, he tenderly grabs my hands and lowers them while gently nudging me backward. In that moment, fear roots me to the floor, and I’m not sure I could scream or run away even if I wanted to. When my back collides with the wall, the air in my lungs expels, and I know I’m trapped.
I haven’t known my captor long, but I already know that with him, I’m always trapped. I look anywhere but at his face. I don’t want to see the cut or the bruise on his cheek. I’m not a violent person, and I hate that this situation has made me into someone I’m not.
His hand comes out of nowhere, and I flinch as he pinches my chin between two fingers, forcing me to look into his eyes. Dark black pools of nothingness reflect back at me.
If there is anything I’ve learned about Zane, it’s that he is unreadable. Like a lake, you can’t see the bottom, but you know there’s something there beneath the