Kidnapped by a Killer (Edited Version)

Chapter 9

After the encounter I had with the stranger named Rowen, Cliff spent a lot of time at home. He claimed it was that he had off from work, but I didn't believe him. It was clear that there was something on his mind, and I suspected it had something to do with Rowen. He was concerned about him returning, and if he was that worried, so was I.

It was the middle of the night several days later and I couldn't sleep. My mind was wide awake with thoughts that I couldn't quite connect or understand the relevance of. A part of my brain was conscious of my lack of sleep, while an entirely separate part was worrying over what I would do if I ever escaped. My pessimism told me I wouldn't escape, but my natural optimism told me I might one day, and if I did, what would I do? Go back to school? Try to put everything behind me? I didn't know if I could or even wanted to put this experience behind me; my family had been murdered after all. Honestly... I wasn't sure of anything and that knowledge sent me tossing and turning for many hours.

Cliff lay on the opposite side of the bed with his back to me. He hadn't slept much the last few days either, so it was a secret relief to finally have some peace. I said peace, but maybe it was more like privacy. His recent need to stay close to me left me with little time for myself.

I knew it was because of Rowen, and I wasn't in contrast to Cliff. Rowen's visit had unnerved me in a way that I couldn't explain, and I felt on edge. There was this fear that he would come back. As a result though, I found I was more eager to listen to Cliff if I thought it would keep me prepared for a second visit. I had started to notice how much I had let my guard down. I ate what Cliff gave me now, and I wasn't opposed to sleeping in the bed anymore so long as he stayed far enough away. Sometimes we would actually have conversations; just about random stuff, but it still happened. It was... frustrating, to say the least.

I slipped out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Closing the door, I flipped on the light and stared into the mirror. Despite being allowed to shower daily, my hair was a tangled mess and my clothes, a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, looked like they could use a washing. I looked like a drug addict. But that wasn't what I noticed when I looked in the mirror. No, what I really saw was something in my own expression that was far more terrifying. So much so, I couldn't put to words if I tried. There was just something... lifeless about me.

Just then, there was a noise outside the bathroom and a voice called my name. "Zane?"

I sighed and opened the bathroom door. Cliff was sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I'm right here," I said. "Go back to sleep."

He stared at me with glazed eyes, unable to see me well from the shine of the bathroom lights. "What are you doing?" he asked, sleep evident in his voice.

"What do you usually do in a bathroom?" I asked. It was worded like a joke, but I wasn't really trying to be funny.

Still, Cliff chuckled wearily. "Sorry. I'm just a little on edge lately, I guess."

I dropped my eyes. "I noticed."

He stretched and looked at me expectantly. Though it should have bothered to have to return just because he looked at me that way, I obediently turned the light out and walked back to the bed. Sitting with my back against the headboard, I closed my eyes.

As I breathed out in content, willing myself to grow drowsy, I felt moved at my side. Immediately, I opened my eyes to glared at him, and he stopped whatever advances he had been making to frown sheepishly. I turned away from him to curl up on the far side of the bed. I still didn't want him to touch me, and he knew that.

Listening closely, I heard him get up, and the door to the bedroom opened and shut softly. Knowing he was gone, I turned and stared at the door. I kept waiting for the day when he'd had enough of waiting for my permission and took what he wanted just like the first time. But that day had yet to come and I was beginning to wonder if it would. Like my slowly lessening malice towards him, his consideration for me was frustrating. How was I supposed to hate him when he treated me so gently?