The word irritated wasn't enough to describe the complete confusion Ghost felt after leaving you down there in the basement. Not to mention the fact that he somehow felt bad because they forgot your sweet'n'sour sauce. He was a soldier, a cold-blooded killer, and now he felt sorry because his abductee didn't get her sauce.
Mistake Number 1: Getting your victim fast food.
Maybe this whole job was a test, and his client only wanted to see if Ghost was easy to manipulate. That theory was a bit too far-fetched, even for Ghost's liking, and apart from that, he was failing this hypothetical test already, so he decided to just go to sleep. Maybe you would behave like a normal victim after a night in the damp cellar.
"Good morning."
Your cheerful voice was the last thing Ghost had expected to hear first thing the next morning, and it seemed like you did not turn into a frightened abductee overnight. Something about your demeanor was intriguing, in a concerning way, but intriguing nonetheless. He opened the hatch, walking the few steps down in silence. Somehow, he didn't know what to say to you. He really did not want to make friendly small talk, but yelling at you or being mean somehow felt wrong too. This whole job was torture.
His gaze fell on you, sitting on the mattress, wrapped up in the blanket like a burrito. It seemed like you were cold, even with the thick blanket covering you. Not his business, this wasn't a five-star hotel stay, he reminded himself.
You smiled at him while your hands rested on your knees, still tied together. You didn't give off the slightest impression that you wanted to run away, and it wasn't like you could run off, because the hatch was the only way out of the cellar, and Ghost always made sure to lock it, even when he was in the house.
He was sure that you wouldn't cause any problems if he removed the cable ties from your wrists. Ghost crouched down in front of you, the balaclava still hiding his face. Not that it would have made a difference, because his expression was frozen most of the time. It was probably easier to decipher the emotions of a rock than to try your luck with psychoanalyzing him based on his facial expression.
Even though there was a slight change, his eyebrows scrunched together slightly as he grabbed your wrists. Carefully, he removed the cable ties, only to see marks on your skin. That was weird because Ghost was more than sure that he didn't tighten the ties that much. Besides, the marks looked older, not as brightly red as they would be if they were from his restraints.
But again, it was not his business, so he kept his mouth shut. As if you could read his thoughts, you pulled the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. It was cold in this cellar after all.
"I have to leave for a few hours, you won't start any funny business, right?" Ghost grumbled, rising back to his feet.
"Nope," you replied truthfully, "I'm going to wait patiently for your return."
Ghost clenched his teeth as you looked up at him with big brown eyes. Like Bambi.
Mistake Number 2: Comparing your victim to a Disney character.
"Do I have anything in my face? Sorry, there are no mirrors down here," you joked as you noticed that he had been staring at you for the past few seconds. He just huffed as he turned around to walk back up the stairs. It was a good thing that he had to buy a few things, being with you in that cabin wasn't good for his sanity. If the tiny slivers that were left of it even deserved to be called that.
Something between one and six hours passed until Ghost returned. It was a bit hard to keep track of time while you were locked down there. While he was gone, the big black spider tried to invade the privacy of your mattress not one but five times, and your attempts to reason with it weren't really futile.
But smashing it was off the table, you would have felt bad, and apart from that you feared that its spider buddies would team up against you if you killed one of their peers. So you tried your best to keep an eye on it until you heard someone enter the cabin. Soon after, the hatch opened, and Ghost came down, holding a bag in his hand.
"Here," he mumbled after he dropped a book on your mattress. It was a romance book, and you couldn't help but chuckle as you grabbed it. You wondered if he asked the cashier for help picking it out. Probably, he didn't appear like a guy who read romance books in his free time.
It was a nice gesture; no one ever gifted you anything, and the last time you read a book was in school. Your husband didn't like it when you read; he always told you that it kept you from doing your chores in the household, and he thought bookshelves looked ridiculous. "That's something for stuck-up snobby people," he'd snarl while sitting in his recliner, drunk out of his mind.
"Thank you," you said with a smile. A genuine one, and that seemed to startle Ghost a bit because he averted his gaze from you, concentrating back on the bag in his hand. Pulling out a bag of chips and a pack of four muffins. It was not the most nutritious meal, but after your plea for fast food yesterday, he thought you would be happy with that.
Something about the way you sat there was so pitiful in his eyes, even though you didn't look like you felt bad. But God, Ghost felt bad for you. He swallowed thickly, giving himself the chance to think about his decision for a few more seconds because he was already sure he'd regret it, but this one single piece of his humanity was screaming louder than his common sense.
"Grab your stuff and come with me."
He turned around and walked away immediately after saying the words because there was no way he was waiting for you, let alone helping you carry the few things upstairs.
Third mistake: treating your victim like a roommate.
