cherry (h.s)

seven

Charlotte Thompson

The first thing Harry made me do was his laundry.

His laundry.

I didn't mind the work itself, it was just the fact that I was doing the work for him. The guy who kidnapped me and took my life away.

But, like I said, I need to be on his good side...just for a little bit until I find a chance to get out of here.

I've avoided Harry all day. He's mostly been in his room, doing god knows what.

I would just run out the front door, except this house is in the middle of nowhere. I don't know where I am and Harry knows that.

He's dangling my freedom right in front of me, knowing I can't take it back.

I had spent the entire day doing shit for him.

Laundry. Sweeping. Cooking. Scrubbing.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted.

It's been a full day since I was taken. I didn't even know if anyone was looking for me. That's what scared me the most.

I might be all alone once I get out of here.

I trudge into my room. I was still in the same clothes I was in when Harry took me.

I don't have any clothes here.

For some reason, I found myself walking to Harry's bedroom door to address this problem to him.

I knock twice.

I hear an annoyed groan from behind the door, then footsteps stomping up to it. The door swings open to reveal a seemingly annoyed Harry.

"What?" he states harshly.

"Uhm, I don't have any clothes." I simply say.

He looks at me like I just spoke the dumbest phrase on the planet.

"Yes you do. Have you even looked in your closet?" he cocks his brow, looking at me still like I'm stupid.

How was I supposed to know I had clothes in my closet?

He rolls his eyes with a sigh and walks out of his bedroom. "C'mon."

I follow him silently. He walks into my room and opens the closet. Sure enough, there was a closet full of clothes right in front of us.

"W-where did you get these?"

He shrugs. "Picked 'em up a few days ago."

If he already had clothes in this closet, that would have to mean that he's had my kidnapping planned for a while. A few days at least.

"I'm also gonna need some hygiene stuff."

'Hygiene stuff' includes tampons, razors, etcetera. I didn't want to have to say that out loud. Not to him.

"Got it covered. Bathroom." he says.

I bite my lip and nod. "O-okay."

Without even giving me a second glance, he leaves.

If I'm such an annoyance to him then maybe he should've just let me go.

It was getting late, so I decided that I might as well get into pajamas. I put on a pair of fabric shorts and a white t shirt, leaving my hair down.

I crawl into the unfamiliar bed. It was cold, like no one had slept in here for a long, long time. It felt strange. It felt wrong.

Probably because it was wrong.