sympathy

Chapter Five

        When I woke, I was back in the bed. My wrist had a fresh bandage. My right ankle was tied to the bed post with a scratchy rope. There were burn marks where it was tied, most likely from me moving too much in my sleep. I was restless.

        You were beside the window. You looked tired. The sun was hitting your green eyes, and your skin was... beautiful. In that moment, just that moment, you didn't look like a kidnapper. You looked like the best friend everyone wishes they had. You were mine, once upon a time. Part of me always hoped it would become more than that. 

        I never told you that, Clay. I did love you, before you stole me. Maybe I still did. 

        You stared at me, waiting for me to say something. Anything. You saw me staring, and after I caught myself, I broke the silence.

"Where am I?" I whispered with such a quiet voice.

"Australia."

"Why am I here?"

"I won't do anything to you. I needed to save you."

"From what?"

"Your old life."

        You explained how you thought you were my guardian angel or something. You said you had to save me from the friends I had in England. The ones who fed me lies, betrayed me,  and hurt me over the years. I was always easy to forgive them, but you thought it was stupid. You like to hold grudges.

        I stayed in that bed for four more days. The pillowcase became thin from the tears. You would come in every so often, and the conversation would be the same. Are you thirsty? I was, but I would always say no. Then you would try and explain it all and I would ignore every word. There was a slight crave I had for when you came in the room. I craved your voice. It was soft, and gentle. I had always admired it. 

        The next morning you came in when I was testing my strength. I was standing, trying to see if I was strong enough to try to escape again. I was standing by the window, trying to learn the landscape. You came in, and stood next to me. 

"You're thinking something," you said.

        I shook my head no, lying.

"Does your wrist still hurt?"

        "No." I lied again.

"I need to change the bandage."

        Your hand reached for mine, lifting my arm so you could see the cut. You peeled the bandage up, and studied how the scabs were formed. I didn't dare look at you. I was already shaking the second you touched me.

        You saw that I was uncomfortable and in pain. You were always good at being able to tell what someone was truly feeling. That's when you lowered my arm, and dragged your fingers from the inside of my elbow all the way up to my ear. You pulled a piece of hair and tucked it behind my ear.

        You moved so that your body was up against mine, standing behind me. I heard you swallow. It reminded me of when we met in the airport. You were close enough that I could feel each breath you took. I moved away and turned around to look at you. Your hand was raised like you wanted to touch me. Like you wanted to hurt me, or caress me. I couldn't tell.

        "Don't," I whispered. "Please.."

        You moved your hand and threaded your fingers through your hair. I couldn't look into your memorizing eyes any longer. I looked at the shadows behind you instead. Everything about that moment made me feel sick. 

"Clay?"

"Yes?"

"How long are you going to keep me here?"

        You shrugged in a way that made the question seem stupid.

"Forever, of course."

Total Word Count: 635