Captivated by shadows [h.s.]

35.

It's impossible to feel empathy for your own kidnapper, a person who has killed other people, who has done drugs and illegal things almost every day.

That's what I thought.

But here I am. Next to Harry among all the rubble that was once surrounded by a happy family.

His family.

I've never seen him as broken as he is now, let alone heard anything so personal from him.

Is today one of those days that I will remember for years to come because it brought us a little closer together?

I revealed to him a few hours ago that I like him, and I'm pretty sure he cares about me too. Otherwise, he would never have brought me here, would he?

Ever since I met Harry, my emotions have been in chaos. It's more than just confusing to admit to myself that I care about someone as horrible as Harry.

Isn't that called Stockholm syndrome?

Should I be worried that I'm completely mentally disturbed?

What would my family think of me if they knew I was making friends with my kidnappers?

Questions upon questions. Every day they overwhelm me like an avalanche, but today it's not about me. It's about Harry, who stands before me like a heap of misery as he revealed to me a few minutes ago what a terrible fate has befallen him and his family.

Is that why I'm so fascinated by him? Because we are both broken souls who try to survive every day and forget the past?

It sounds strange, but for the first time I see something we both have in common. A commonality that is not necessarily positive but that connects us in a certain way.

I wouldn't say that I justify or condone all the bad things he has already done. I still think it's all terrible, but I felt like I could understand him better.

He gave me an insight into his past for the first time today, and I am more than grateful to him for that.

"What are you going to do?" asks Harry after we've decided to go back.

He looked after me suspiciously as I walked past the car we came in and headed straight for the golden wheat field.

"You can see that." I reply, shrugging my shoulders. A few seconds later, I'm stomping through the tall corn that sticks up to my waist.

"That's totally stupid." He shouted to me in a monotone, which made me roll my eyes.

"You think a lot of things are stupid." I interjected and looked over my shoulder in his direction. I could see him walk to the edge of the field and look at me with his arms crossed.

"Get out." He calls out to me, as we are now a good five metres apart.

A smile creeps onto my lips. "No"

"No?"

"No." I shake my head.

The light breeze that blew around us made his brown curls fall into his face, and although he squinted his eyes because of the sun, I could clearly see the green in his irises.

Harry's black T-shirt clings almost perfectly to his chest, and my gaze wanders along his bare arms, where I can see the many small tattoos from afar.

"Rosie" he pronounces my name, and I almost had the feeling he was warning me.

"Harry"

"Get out of this fucking field now."

"Why?" I cross my arms too.