Frostbitten Past

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ANDORRA LAID on her back and stared at the ceiling. Her dress clung to her in a suffocating way, and she longed to take it off, but she couldn't bare the implications of what would happen when Kyle and Paul walked in, seeing her in nothing but her bra and panties. That thought alone scared her into keeping the dress on.

It was daytime now, and she could tell by the light streaming through the window. Judging by the height of the sun in the sky, and where it was shining, she could make the easy guess that it was midmorning, not yet noon but getting close.

Another indicator was the smell of coffee in the house, wafting up from the kitchen. Her nose had picked up on that when she first woke up, startled by the sound of people moving around. It took her half a minute to realize no one was in her room with her, ready to strangle her.

She hated feeling like a caged animal, but that was all she felt like. She was on edge, ready to attack if someone came in her bedroom. And, her stomach was growling, a sure sign that she would attack someone on food-bases only, begging for something to put into her mouth of the fruit variety.

She forced herself to lay still on the bed, looking up at the pale white ceiling, wondering if she would ever be set free, or if her life now revolved around laying in a locked room like a damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued.

She had an idea of who she'd like to rescue her, but she squashed that daydream immediately, hating that the thought even entered her brain. Stupid. I'm stupid.

The smell of coffee was drifting closer, as was footsteps in the hall. No chatter from Kyle or Paul, but that was almost worse because she had no clue who was approaching her room, and she hated not knowing.

There was a pause in front of her door, as if the person was preparing themselves to enter, and then she heard the key in the lock, turning the gears. She was quiet and patient, and she continued to lay on her bed and force her gaze on the ceiling. I will not look. I will not look.

The door swung open, but she didn't watch it. She forced her eyes to stay still, forced her head to do the same, as if it would grant her some sort of gratification. It didn't, and the person who entered only set down something on the desk and then was bent over, looking into her line of sight.

It was Kyle, his hair disheveled and his face so tight and strong and mature. She'd forgotten just how old he now looked, just how much he'd aged since he first brought her there.

"What?" She said, her tone hard and biting. I will not forgive him. She chanted that in her head so she wouldn't get any stupid ideas, which she was prone to do. And, she had a soft spot for Kyle, the friend she never had.

His face was saddened by her tone as he pulled out of her line of sight, then he let out a long sigh. She could hear his hand rubbing his neck, the hand chafing against the skin there. "I brought breakfast."

Her stomach growled at the thought of eating, but she didn't move from the bed. She was great at playing the game of being indifferent, and so she would do the same until Kyle left. She had no desire to thank him for food, nor did she want to talk to him.

So, she said nothing in response.

"Andorra, I know you're mad. Please understand, I didn't have a choice."

She didn't believe him for a moment. "Everyone has choices, Kyle. You made yours perfectly clear. You know, kidnapping is illegal, right?"

Kyle didn't respond to that. He just let out a sigh and moved back towards the door, towards her food, his hand reaching for the plate to take it back. It was like she could tell exactly what he was doing without looking at him, like his hand movement made so much sound she could hear what he was doing.