If this was how he could already make me feel, I’d hate to think about what it would be like after weeks. Months, even. There was no end in sight for my captivity.

*

“Did you want to do something today?” he asked, walking into the kitchen where I was making coffee.

I kept my eyes on my cup. “Like what?” I scoffed. “Go outside? Get some fresh air?”

He sighed and sat up on the counter next to my resting forearms. “I thought we were going to make an effort to make this work?”

My head dropped forward and whatever tiny piece of fight I had completely left me. “I think I’m going crazy, Nate. And it’s only been two weeks. I feel like I’m trapped.”

“You are trapped,” he mumbled.

“No. Not just physically. I mean mentally trapped in my own head.” I looked up at him, and his eyes met mine. “I feel like I’m going insane.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t know, either.”

He jumped off the counter. “I’m sorry, Bailey.”

“Me too.”

13

Nate

For weeks I watched the life in her eyes slowly fade, not that she had much to begin with. But the lifelessness wasn’t what tore my insides to shreds. It was the sadness she didn’t bother hiding, the pain and anger that lay beneath the surface. Every night, she’d only speak a few words to me before locking herself in her room. I can’t count the amount of times I stood outside her door, my hand fisted, wanting to knock. I just wanted talk to her, to see her, to ask her if there was anything I could do to make it better.

Because I would.

I’d do anything.

As long as it meant saving her.

But she resented me. Hated me, even. I could tell by the way she looked at me, cold and distant. Sometimes, it was as if she’d rather be out there with nothing. Or worse, she’d rather I’d pulled the trigger. How could I explain it to her? That I just wanted to save her. Why wouldn’t she let me save her?

Bailey

Weeks passed, and we were back at the beginning. Me avoiding him, and him… I have no idea how he felt. I spent my days cleaning the house and sleeping and cleaning the house again and sleeping some more. Each day created a different mood. Some days I’d be grateful for my life, other days I’d wished to be out there in the rain with my cold feet stomping on the pavement searching for shelter. It sounds stupid, I know this, but at least out there I knew who I was.

In here, I barely existed.

The front door opened, and the beeps of the alarm that had become so familiar sounded as he disengaged it. It took all my energy to get out of bed, my head spinning when I sat up straight. I’d gotten weaker over the past few days. Almost as weak as I was when I’d gone days without food. But I’d been eating, so I put it down to my depressed moods and lack of motivation to do anything.

I opened my door and lazily walked to the kitchen where I sat at the table, waiting for him to dump whatever food he’d purchased that night. I expected to eat in silence like we did every night. Him watching me, me glancing up at him to catch him watching me, and him not bothering to look away when I did.

I picked at a worn spot on the table, ignoring the light-headedness and slow spinning of the room. My breaths amplified in my eardrums. Sweat dripped from my forehead and into my eyes and I wiped them away just as he sat opposite me. He faked a smile. I knew it was fake because he had nothing to be happy about. And if he did, it sure wasn’t me that was making him smile. For a second, I thought about what it could be, and my mind immediately latched on to the image of him with a woman.

My throat made a sound as I pushed down the puke.

The thought of him with someone in that way made me feel even sicker.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded and stayed silent.

He sighed, reached down next to him and then set a white cardboard box on the table. I looked from the box, up to him, my heart suddenly racing though I had no idea why.

“Happy birthday, Bailey. I know it’s not much but—”

“What?” I whispered.

He lifted the lid on the box and showed me the cake. Two candles—a one and an eight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, then proceeded to light them. “I hope you like white chocolate,” he said.

There was wetness in my eyes, but it wasn’t sweat this time. “How did you know?” I asked him.

“I have my ways.”

I swallowed the lump formed in my throat. “I…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say. I stared off into the distance, trying to remember the last time I’d celebrated my birthday.

“Blow them out,” Nate said, his voice low as he leaned in closer. “Who knows? Maybe your wish might come true.”

I nodded.

Closed my eyes.

And I wished for freedom.

*

He let me choose what to order for dinner considering it was my birthday and all. I chose pizza. Not for me, but for him, because I knew it was his favorite. We sat on the floor of the living room and ate. “I wanted to get you a computer,” he told me. “I had it ordered and everything but Tiny nixed the idea last minute. Sorry.”

“You were going to get me a computer?”

He just shrugged. “I wanted to get something to help you out a bit. I know you’ve been struggling lately with being cooped up in here all day.”

“You noticed?” I asked, looking up at him.

“I notice everything, Bailey,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m glad you didn’t. That’s way too expensive.”

He licked his lips and leaned back on his outstretched arms, his legs crossed at his ankles. “There’s not a lot you can do on the computer without Internet. And Tiny—he kind of crushed my dreams about not allowing you online. Just like he won’t let you watch TV or read books or magazines or anything like that. He thinks it could be dangerous… not just for you getting escape ideas but because it might make you a little crazy not being able to experience it all while you’re in here. He said—” he broke off with a quiet laugh. One I hadn’t heard before. “Let’s just say Tiny’s smart. He thinks with his head and I…” he trailed off, his gaze flicking to mine a moment before looking away.

“You what? You don’t think with your head?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes on mine. “Not when it comes to you, apparently.”

“So…” I hesitated to ask, “What do you think with?”

He sucked in a breath before quickly coming to a stand, and my heart dropped when he walked away. I assumed the moment was over, so I started picking up the napkins and pizza boxes off the floor, but then he returned, sat back down, and held out a small silver box. “It’s not a computer,” he joked.

I picked it up, finding it impossible to breathe. I’d seen boxes like these in the many jewelry stores I’d walked past, but I’d never held one in my hands. A part of me was hesitant to accept it, but a bigger part of me was just too damn excited. And that excitement couldn’t be contained when I ripped the ribbon off and snapped the box open.

If I could bottle time, this would be one of them. Every sight, every smell, every feeling of this moment… I’d bottle it so I could experience it over and over.