He shifted beneath me, his hand moving from my waist, up my body, and to my hair. He stroked it slowly, then twisted a strand between his fingers.
“You awake?”
I nodded against his chest.
“What are you thinking?”
I exhaled loudly but refused to look up at him. “How wrong this is.”
His hand froze in my hair, along with the rest of him. “Funny. I was just thinking how right it was.” He sat up, moving me with him.
“It can’t be right, Nate. It might be for now, but when all of this is over…”
He sighed. “You’re just a girl, an incredibly pretty girl, living in my house. And I’m a guy, Bailey. Who says it’s wrong to want to be near each other like this?”
I got out of bed and stood up. “I do,” I said, ignoring the ache in my chest at his words. He said I was pretty, but he also said I was just a girl. And he was just a guy. And that’s all he thought this was. I felt stupid for thinking more, for wanting more. I left his room and showered in the guest bathroom, the entire time I fought to keep the tears at bay.
If this was how he could already make me feel, I’d hate to think about what it would be like after weeks. Months, even. There was no end in sight for my captivity.
*
“Did you want to do something today?” he asked, walking into the kitchen where I was making coffee.
I kept my eyes on my cup. “Like what?” I scoffed. “Go outside? Get some fresh air?”
He sighed and sat up on the counter next to my resting forearms. “I thought we were going to make an effort to make this work?”
My head dropped forward and whatever tiny piece of fight I had completely left me. “I think I’m going crazy, Nate. And it’s only been two weeks. I feel like I’m trapped.”
“You are trapped,” he mumbled.
“No. Not just physically. I mean mentally trapped in my own head.” I looked up at him, and his eyes met mine. “I feel like I’m going insane.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t know, either.”
He jumped off the counter. “I’m sorry, Bailey.”
“Me too.”
13
Nate
For weeks I watched the life in her eyes slowly fade, not that she had much to begin with. But the lifelessness wasn’t what tore my insides to shreds. It was the sadness she didn’t bother hiding, the pain and anger that lay beneath the surface. Every night, she’d only speak a few words to me before locking herself in her room. I can’t count the amount of times I stood outside her door, my hand fisted, wanting to knock. I just wanted talk to her, to see her, to ask her if there was anything I could do to make it better.
Because I would.
I’d do anything.
As long as it meant saving her.
But she resented me. Hated me, even. I could tell by the way she looked at me, cold and distant. Sometimes, it was as if she’d rather be out there with nothing. Or worse, she’d rather I’d pulled the trigger. How could I explain it to her? That I just wanted to save her. Why wouldn’t she let me save her?
Bailey
Weeks passed, and we were back at the beginning. Me avoiding him, and him… I have no idea how he felt. I spent my days cleaning the house and sleeping and cleaning the house again and sleeping some more. Each day created a different mood. Some days I’d be grateful for my life, other days I’d wished to be out there in the rain with my cold feet stomping on the pavement searching for shelter. It sounds stupid, I know this, but at least out there I knew who I was.
In here, I barely existed.
The front door opened, and the beeps of the alarm that had become so familiar sounded as he disengaged it. It took all my energy to get out of bed, my head spinning when I sat up straight. I’d gotten weaker over the past few days. Almost as weak as I was when I’d gone days without food. But I’d been eating, so I put it down to my depressed moods and lack of motivation to do anything.
I opened my door and lazily walked to the kitchen where I sat at the table, waiting for him to dump whatever food he’d purchased that night. I expected to eat in silence like we did every night. Him watching me, me glancing up at him to catch him watching me, and him not bothering to look away when I did.
I picked at a worn spot on the table, ignoring the light-headedness and slow spinning of the room. My breaths amplified in my eardrums. Sweat dripped from my forehead and into my eyes and I wiped them away just as he sat opposite me. He faked a smile. I knew it was fake because he had nothing to be happy about. And if he did, it sure wasn’t me that was making him smile. For a second, I thought about what it could be, and my mind immediately latched on to the image of him with a woman.
My throat made a sound as I pushed down the puke.
The thought of him with someone in that way made me feel even sicker.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded and stayed silent.
He sighed, reached down next to him and then set a white cardboard box on the table. I looked from the box, up to him, my heart suddenly racing though I had no idea why.
“Happy birthday, Bailey. I know it’s not much but—”