and memories with intense interest.
But that’s far from the case.
With every frown she tries to hide. Every tear she swipes away. Each unanswered email from her parents, I know.
She’s nothing but a well-paid prisoner.
I’ve spent the better part of the week obsessing over how to change this. Over what to say and how to interact with her in hopes that she will begin to look at me with different eyes. To not regard me as the warden of her sentence but rather the sun in the sky. Bright and brilliant and beautiful. Because that’s how I see her. She blinds me with her innocence. Her humor. Her wit and charm. I’m a blind man seeing for the first time when around her.
She’s my savior.
“Still no response,” she utters from the kitchen doorway, her bottom lip quivering.
I frown at her. “Give it some time.”
“I know they’ve been worried sick. You’d think they’d be happy to know I was safe and not kidnapped, even though I was. Why aren’t they responding?”
A single tear rolls down her cheek and I crave to comfort her. Despite the demons being silenced, I still can’t imagine myself ever willingly touching her. That’s the part that sucks. I want to gather her in my arms and kiss away her heartache.
But I’d be stupid to believe I’d ever be able to do such a thing.
“Anything could have happened. Maybe her phone has been shut off or something.”
She frowns. “Maybe. I wish I knew what was going on. I feel so cut off from the world here.”
This time, I’m the one feeling guilty. I’ve locked her down on her computer from anything that could give her access to the outside world. She has a weather app—as if I’d even let her outside—and open links to many stores to which my credit card is attached to so she can shop as much as she wants.
But news. Social media. Forums. Nothing. All blocked. For her safety, of course.
“They’ll reply soon,” I assure her. “I’m sure they’re worried about you and miss you. There could be many reasons as to no response. We’ll get through to them eventually.”
I turn away from her so she can’t see my features and stare down into the dishwater. Lying isn’t one of my strong suits. Even as a kid, I didn’t lie often without giving myself away. Truth is, her parents aren’t worried. And that worries me.
Not one single news article has mentioned anything about a missing girl named Baylee Winston. No missing person reports filed. Not one single mention on any of their social media accounts.
I know this because I’ve fixated on learning about where she came from, who she is, what her parents were like, what sort of home she grew up in. All things to confirm her stories and to paint a more detailed picture of the woman in my home.
Her mom wasn’t one to post often and the last post was over a month ago—her and Baylee curled up in bed. It was cute and it endeared me to her even more.
Problem is, if your child went missing, wouldn’t you blast that information all over the place?
I researched her father’s page and he’s posted a couple of pictures of a carburetor he’d been working on. Last post was this week. That shit had me in mental fits all night. There’s no way I can tell her that nobody is looking for her.
Just that goddamn lunatic, Gabe.
She walks past me and leans her hip on the edge of the counter, deep in thought, and stares out the window just past the kitchen table that overlooks the sparkling Pacific. Today, her long blond hair hangs damp to the middle of her back. It’s unkempt and loose—a notion that would normally terrorize me. Yet, here I am wishing I had the mental strength to pull her into a comforting embrace and stroke her silky hair. To slide my fingers into her blonde tresses and kiss her like there’s no tomorrow.
A somewhat normal gesture between a man and a woman.
With Baylee, I can almost imagine what normal gestures in a normal life would look like. A life where she’s my confidant and lover. A life where I’m happy and we have a future. At one time, I felt that way about my high school girlfriend, Lilah. That was before.
Before the monsters.
Before the blood.
Before the misery that attached itself to my soul.
I let my mind wander away from the vision in front of me and back to