A Kidnapper's Dream (Unedited)

-Chapter 3: Avoiding the Past-

@Copyright all rights reserved 2013

-Written By: LovableMonster-

(Yet again another dedication to @FireGoesDown for those lovely side banners.)

-Chapter 3: Avoiding the Past-

Luca returns with a silver tray in his hand. He places it in front of me, lifting the lid. All that he has prepared me is a tiny filet, no side dishes or a drink. He hands me a fork and expects me to eat this, only this.

I look at him and he looks back. "My Jessalyn forgive me, I will get you more soon," he begs, bringing me a pitcher of water. He pours it into a cup and hands it to me. I stare down at the pathetic excuse for a meal and wonder how this man has ever lived.

After my prison meal, he asks me something, "Can I paint you my dear? In that beautiful red dress with the light of the candles?" Before I can refuse, he leads me to the desk, sitting me down in the chair and taking out another canvas.

Sliding his arm around me, he reaches into the front drawer of the desk and pulls out a set of paints and a handful of brushes. Setting them all on a nearby table, he starts his work.

"Why do you like to paint?'' I ask before he starts, wondering why he's so interested in the arts. I still feel the quaver in my voice, telling me he's nothing but a kidnapper, but I've been foolish before. I must be strong enough to conquer this situation...

He smirks his lopsided grin and starts dabbing paint on the board.

"I don't like to paint, unless it's of you my angel. Now, please sit still, I wouldn't want to have to punish you," he warns, and I obey his command and rule number one. Though a thought still remains; this is not how a kidnapper behaves. This act of a threat sobers me up from my irrationality.

When he's done I hop off the chair and walk over to him, prepared to see a horrible thing drawn and colored on this canvas. The painting is of me, every detail is true, but it's not hideous. In fact, it is actually beautiful! Somehow he manages to make me look like I belong to someone's heart, to someone's soul.

He puts down his brushes and wipes the sweat from his forehead, placing an arm on my shoulder. I quickly move away to shake it off of me.

"Do you like it my sweet?" he asks and I say a quick, "Yes." No one has ever done such beautiful things for me, or show me such compassion, especially when I've shown him so little. I back away from him even more and he still manages to catch me.

He rubs his fingers up and down my arm and grips at my skin, I can feel warmth jut through his nails and his fingertips. I look into his eyes again, the feeling bears something I cannot explain. I ignore it and he notices my quick act of kindness, “Thank you.” He removes his fingers from me before I even get the chance to guide myself away from him.

He adjusts the painting and removes it, hanging it on the wall next to a painting of a little farmhouse somewhere off into the country. It's beautiful and I wonder if he made that one too, in the dead of night screaming for someone to love.

I push away the thought and he grips me around the waist, "I've been unkind to you. I've expected you to love me without a word from me. I'll tell you what you want,'' he whispers in my ear and we head over to the couch, I don't want to sit next to him or even be near him. I'm afraid of what he'll do if I don't though. I sit in the opposite place, the loveseat across from him.

It's nice to know that he's come to a realization, but what will he tell me and will it all be true?

I finally have the urge to ask him a question, but I don’t think it through. "Why...why do you wear those?" I ask, pointing at his jeweled cloak.  I didn't know he'd act so strongly to my question...