by A. P. Marie
His sincerity is disarming. He’s really giving me this choice. Of course, I am going to be held here either way, but he is leaving the choice of whether we try to become friends up to me.
“Does becoming your friend mean I get fed?” I ask as my stomach grumbles. His responding laugh is happy and carefree, and I want to swim in it forever.
“Yes, of course. But to be fair, I would have fed you even if you didn’t want to be my friend.” He's still laughing as he stands up and grabs my hand to lead me to the food.
Chapter 5
Friendship
As Zander leads me out of the room, I get my first look at the interior of the rest of the house. It’s all gorgeous. Even the apples on the hallway table we pass are tastefully staged. The house is very chic and modern with all light grey walls and dark hard wood floors. The white décor in my room does not necessarily follow out into the common areas though. As we pass the living room on our way to the kitchen, I spot a large overstuffed black leather couch. There is another fireplace in the living room, again with a large TV mounted over top of it. The house is extraordinary. The whole thing feels surreal. I’m stuck between thinking it’s like being in a house on MTV cribs or a house the Property Brothers would show me just to emphasize how little I could afford.
As we walk, he gives me a quick description of each room or door that we pass. I forget most of them almost immediately and just follow behind Zander, dazed. Instead, I contemplate the information Zander gave me in the bedroom. I know that I should be more interested in his claims that I am not human but interestingly that isn’t bothering me so much.
When I started being able to tell whether people were lying, I had to reconcile the fact that things were not as they seemed. It took a while for me to trust my gift and then even longer to realize that I couldn’t be the only one. The night that they found me I overheard a conversation between two of the men who had been chasing me and while their conversation at the time confused me it has come back to me often since, and it came back to me now, just as clear as the day it happened.
I was hiding in a broom closet on the third floor of a little hospital in a one-horse town in Texas, just days after my fourteenth birthday. The doctors had sedated me upon arrival at the hospital, but when I woke up, I heard a voice that was already haunting my nightmares.
As quietly as I could manage, I snuck out of my room and down the hall to hide in the closet. Footsteps echoed through my brain as fear paralyzed me. Then the men began speaking in low tones, obviously trying not to wake me.
“She has no idea what she’s up against. It’s almost not even fun.” One man remarked. “She’s going to die thinking she is human.”
The voice that had provided the narration in the worst moments of my life, responded, “That’s the best-case scenario. If she knew what we were capable of she would know to be leerier. We need her ignorant.”
So, I had realized long ago that they believed they were not human. They thought I was like them and that was why they were hunting me.
I have alternated between thinking they were escaped inmates from an insane asylum and believing that they may have been telling the truth. Despite my insistence that they were probably just crazy the fact that I have accepted Zander’s explanation now tells me that I believed them more than I cared to admit.
When we reach the kitchen, I see that it is no less stunning and equally chic. With dark chocolate cabinetry, white marble countertops, and a window facing the gardens. It is the nicest kitchen I have ever seen. On TV or otherwise. He walks around to the refrigerator and starts rifling through it.
“What would you like to eat?” He asks while he is still rummaging around.
“I don’t care. I could eat a horse.” I say while still gawking at the large kitchen.
He pulls a few things from the refrigerator and sets to work in front of the stove.
“So, I feel like I should mention that I know you were trying to run away earlier.” He says nonchalantly over his shoulder. My eyes snap to him to gauge his reaction, but this doesn’t seem to anger him. “I would be concerned if you hadn’t tried at least once. You don’t know me. I could have kidnapped you for any reason.”
He turns around to face me as he finishes speaking and his pride is clear on his face. I cannot fathom this man. He kidnaps me, tells me he will not let me leave, but shows obvious pride at my attempt to escape. I haven’t even begun to process what my reaction should be before he starts speaking again.
“I know you will still be trying to find a way out for a while. I need you to know though, I will not let you go. Not just for the reasons you think either. The fact is that you deserve better than how you were living. I can give that to you. You also need protection. More now, than ever. I can give that to you also. I’m prepared to make you a part of my life and I will take care of you. You belong here, with me.” His words emanate as truth down to my core. He doesn’t wait for me to respond but turns around and finishes the grilled cheese sandwiches he put on the stove.
I stand there like an idiot staring at his back. This man is such an enigma. I’m so irresistibly drawn to him that in all honesty I think even I would feel our separation now. But I recognize that should be what I want. I shouldn’t have been gawking at the furniture on the way to the kitchen, I should have been scouting my escape route. Something about him draws me to him. I don’t know if I can trust all that he has said about us being mates, but I do know that even the thought of separating from him now makes me queasy. Not in a lovesick school girl way. More like, the anxiety a diabetic patient would feel when he noticed that he didn't have his medicine as he started feeling ill. I crave him in a way that expands the boundaries of what I have ever believed in. It’s not love, it’s need. My body needs his body. Or that’s how it feels.
I sit at the countertop bar when he brings the sandwiches over and we begin eating. The meal is quiet and we both seem lost in our thoughts. Afterwards, Zander shows me around the house which is all gorgeous beyond belief, but my attention is drawn to a large room with bookshelves that cover all of the walls. He gives me permission to read any of the books in here at any time and I'd swear I’m in heaven until I remember that this isn’t the afterlife. I even catch myself laughing along with him before I realize what I am doing.
As we near my door Zander again shocks me. He tells me to just imagine I was crashing at a friend’s house while I’m staying here. That it was time for me to move on from Iowa anyway and this is just slightly better accommodations than I would have secured. As I head into my room alone, I think about that. I can imagine that. I can almost see the situation now. Zander and I as close friends. Staying at each other’s houses occasionally. Relying on each other. Trusting each other.
I feel like Zander has somehow opened a window into my soul. He has managed, again, to say the one thing that would calm me down. I spend the rest of the evening laying around my room reading, watching TV, and trying not to wonder what Zander is doing.
The worst part of this whole situation for me is the confusion. I have a visceral reaction to Zander. I want to be near him. I want to get to know him. On the other hand, I know that I should hate him. I should be looking for a way out right now. Not laying around reading and thinking about him like some love-struck pre-teen.
Despite the logical part of me telling me how I should feel, I don’t actually hate Zander. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be his best friend. Even laying on the couch I have to fight the urge to find him, but I will fight it. I recognize that my body has this reaction to Zander, but I refuse to give in to it. I can’t muster hate for him, and I’ll have to accept that. But I can sure as heck avoid him while I work to find a way to get back to my life. Because everything aside, what I cannot accept is that he has in fact kidnapped me and as nice as he is being, he is still holding me against my will. I will not bend my desires and life to this man that meant nothing to me yesterday.
That night I dream. In my dream, I'm
in a room that looks enough like the television versions of jail that I'm instantly on alert. I’ve been beaten over pretty good. What skin I can see is covered in deep purple bruises and I can feel my lip is swollen and busted. My side aches with every breath, which I figure comes from broken ribs. The physical pain isn’t the worst pain though. My chest aches like nothing I’ve ever felt. It hurts so bad I can barely breathe through the pain. My breath catches on a strange hiccup and I realize I’m crying. Tears are streaming down my face and my chest aches with what I can only imagine is a broken heart. Something is wrong and even in my sleep I recognize the desire. It’s like nothing I have ever felt. It’s a desire for peace. For contentment. For comfort. But it’s multiplied by a hundred, or a thousand.
I have this feeling of immense loss. Something that was essential to my person has been taken. Even through the haze of the dream world I fear I won’t survive this. I need… I have to have… what? What is it that I want so badly? What has been taken form me? I can’t tell. And that scares me as much as anything.
I awake in the big white bed that I went to sleep in. Definitely not in a jail cell. I’m not beaten up and the pain is just a distant echo of what it once was. I don’t know what my dream-self lost but whatever it is I hope I guard it with my life. I need it. It’s essential to my survival and that much I know.
Chapter 6
Routine
The next morning, I have a vague ache in my chest, but the details of the dream slip through my fingers like sand. Lying in bed, I try to recall the specifics, but the harder I try, the less I remember. Until I’m left with nothing except the echoes of my wild emotions.
The clock on my nightstand reads 9 and I realize that this is the latest I have slept in in years. I ran away from the hospital when I was 14 and I have been on my own ever since. That lifestyle isn’t conducive to sleeping in. A sense of urgency has always followed me around like a storm cloud. There was always another deal, or town, or decision that required my attention. But here, in this house, I have nothing to do. No purpose. It doesn’t sit well with me.
Curiosity killed the cat, but it also got me out of bed in the morning. After I got dressed in jeans and a plain t-shirt, I decided to give myself a tour of the house. Walking through it with Zander yesterday gave me the highlights, but I want a chance to snoop around without anyone watching.
Pulling open the door I realize quickly that going alone is not going to be an option. Jacob is standing outside my door, looking bored but also totally alert.
“Do you sleep?” The question pops out of my mouth before I realize that it might be rude. Maybe there are rules about what you can ask supernatural when you meet them?
Relief floods me when his lips twitch like he wants to smile.
“Only on days that end in Y.” A grin spreads across my face. Dad jokes, my favorite.
“Your too young to be telling dad jokes.” I reprimand him easily, as I start wandering down the hall. He falls into step beside me and smirks in response.
“So, I was wandering. Am I aloud out of my room? Like, can I go explore the house or is that against the rules?”
“You are aloud out of your room, with supervision. Zander wants you to feel comfortable here. You are free to go wherever you like.” Supervision. For a woman who raised herself, the idea of being supervised seems ridiculous.
“Supervision? What am I, 12?” I plant my hands on my hips and give him what I hope is a very intimidating look. “Am I a prisoner here?”
It’s obviously a silly question. I was kidnapped and am being kept against my will, but for whatever reason it surprises me that Zander is treating me like this. It shouldn’t. He has already admitted that he knew I would try and escape, surely, he knows I will try again. For whatever reason, as dumb as it is though, I felt like Zander and I could be friends. A prison guard sort of ruins that image.
Jacob surprises me by rolling his eyes. “Yeah, you’re a prisoner in a gorgeous mansion with every amenity you could dream of. Zander will give you anything you want. The only expectation anyone has for you is that you stay safe. Must be real terrible.”
I think about snarking at him. It doesn’t matter how nice the prison is, if you are there against your will, it is still a prison. But, I don’t want to make enemies out of Jacob and in a way, I see that he is right. It is not okay for anyone to hold you against your will, but these digs are definitely better than where I just came from. I hold my tongue, knowing that if I am going to lull these people into thinking I am happy here, I can’t keep arguing with them.
I wander up and down hallways, opening door as I go. The house really has everything, and too much of some things. Who needs this many living rooms? Or sitting rooms? And why does he have this many bedrooms? If every single person I knew moved into this house, he would still have extra bedrooms. Such a waste.
A weird looseness develops in my chest, right under my breastbone. Sort of like when you release a muscle that you have been clenching for an extended period of time. I guess I didn’t realize how stressed I was, but walking through this house must be helping, because my chest feels looser and looser as I go.
Right about the time that the tightness in my chest has completely released I recognize our location. We’re in a hallway that leads into the kitchen. Deciding it is a perfect time for food, I go inside. I realize immediately that the kitchen is occupied, and before I even process it my feet take me in the direction of the occupant. A man is sitting in a stool at the breakfast bar. He must hear someone behind him because he spins on his stool until he can see me over his shoulder. I stop when I recognize it is Zander.
I’m not sure how I am supposed to act around Zander. He kidnapped me. He seems to think I belong to him. But, so far, he has been nice to me. He obviously poses a threat, and I mean to get away from him as soon as I can. I just can’t figure out how to act until then.
Zander smiles at me and nods his head toward the stove. “There’s breakfast on the stove if your hungry.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl like an angry lion, so I head over and fill up a plate. When my plate is full, I turn around and scope out the kitchen. We sat at the bar together last night, but there is also a kitchen table off to the side. Going to the kitchen table would give him the impression that I want to be left alone. Sitting beside him might make him think I want to be close to him. I glance at Jacob, standing just inside the kitchen door for guidance, but he isn’t even looking at me. My eyes dart between the seat next to Zander and the kitchen table so much that I must look like I am having some kind of a fit.
A surge of aggravation sweeps through me. I am not this girl. I am not indecisive and unsure. I rely entirely on myself; I always have. I refuse to become some docile, insecure woman over any man, much less this one.
Jerking into motion, I drop my plate on the bar beside Zander, and ignore him completely when he smiles into his plate of eggs and bacon.
We eat in silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable, and the food is delicious. How can eggs be this good? Eggs are eggs, right? I have to make a conscious effort not to moan every time I bring the fork to my mouth.
“Do you have a cook?” I blurt, thinking about maybe proposing to this unknown person. Who ever made these eggs deserves a ring. Man, woman, whatever Zander and Jacob are would make no difference.
“I do. There are several household staff members.” Zander gives me a quick run down of some of these staff members. A cook. Cleaners. Gardeners. Security. The things you would expect from people who have more money than they have sense. The extravagance is such a stark difference from my past that it makes me sick, but the eggs are delicious, so maybe in this one thing I can give him a pass.
“Well, he or she is phenomenal. Really, this is something else.” I say indicating my plate. A huge grin breaks across Zanders face, along with something that looks a lot like pride. It seems like a weird reaction to me praising someone else, but who know how rich people think.
“I�
�ll be sure to let the cook know.” Zander stands and takes his plate to the sink. I’m a little surprised when he doesn’t just set it in the sink and move away. Instead, he rinses it off and then puts it in the dishwasher. “I’m glad you came down this morning. I wanted to talk to you about something.” He leans against the counter facing me. “I’m going to be working from home for the next few weeks. I’m trying to give you space, so I’ll stay out of your hair as much as I can, but I wanted you to know that I’m around. If you need anything or just want to talk, I will be here.”
It’s clear to see that Zander is sincere, I don’t even need my gift to tell me that. He is hopeful that I will come find him. My first reaction is to tell him that there is no chance of that, but something about the look on his face stops me from saying it. Despite everything, I can’t say the words that would cause that hope to slip away.
I also can’t see seeking him out though, and I don’t want to give him more hope that will be crushed when he realizes I’m not coming. So, I choose the completely non-committal response and nod without saying a word.
Zander nods back, and then leaves the kitchen. That stress that I walked off earlier makes a reappearance after he leaves, and I can feel the tightness returning to my chest. So much for that.
After breakfast, I try everything I can think of to help me relax. I go back to my room and take a bath, but the tightness doesn’t ease. So, I try yoga. No change. A walk around the garden doesn’t help, and neither does watching a movie. Before long, it settles into the background and I stop worrying about it at all.
I decide to stay holed up in my room the rest of the day, but that only lasts until I get hungry again. On the way back from the kitchen, I stop off in a library that I stumbled across earlier. I have always enjoyed reading, but I rarely have the time or means to do it. Now, I have nothing but time. I pick a book off the shelf that I recognize as a classic and take it back to my room with me.