Changed Direction

Changed Direction Part 17

Chapter 17: Emilia

I'm not sure what to think about this. Breakfast? Outside of the closet? When I had left the bathroom and didn't see Ethan, I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know whether I should just go back to the closet or if I was allowed to go and find him. I am kind of glad I did. It's easier eating at a table than balancing a plate on my lap. He seemed glad I sat with him this morning, so that was good. I am beginning to earn his trust, I think. First, he didn't drug me last night, and then this morning he let me eat in the kitchen with him? Things were changing. I'm not even tied up right now, but I think maybe he just forgot. I'm sure Ethan meant to.

I don't know what the deal with the books was. I didn't ask for anything to help pass the time. I am okay just sitting here in the dark with nothing to do. Okay, so that probably isn't true, but I wasn't going to ask for anything. He thought of that himself. Was it just a kind gesture, because he felt bad about locking me up? Or was it just the next step in trying to gain my trust so I'd let my guard down? Was not tying me up also a step in trying to gain my trust? This is very confusing. A part of me is seriously beginning to think that maybe Ethan's not so bad. Maybe the Ethan that I talked with and laughed with at the Waffle Hut is the real Ethan. Maybe there is nothing sinister in his plans for me. Another part of me, however, still says not to trust him. Beware his kindness. He must want something from me.

Reaching for the flashlight, I think it is very odd that he just left me sitting here with the door wide open while he ran and got me books. I could have run and might have made it to the front door. I could have done something. Sitting back in my spot, I flip the flashlight on, illuminating the closet. Why didn't I do something? Now that's going to bother me. I could have tried to escape, and yet I stayed here and waited for Ethan to come back, waiting for Ethan to lock me in the closet. Why? I don't know. I couldn't explain why I hadn't moved. I guess I was so confused about what Ethan might be doing that I didn't think of it in time.

Good gracious am I stupid. A chance to run and I didn't take it. I could have made it to freedom. I could have at least screamed and startled the neighbors. I could have done something that would have led to my freedom. Now the possibilities of what might have happened are filling my mind. The consequences of escaping, or at least trying to escape come rushing in. Flicking off the flashlight, I lean my head back against the wall. Why am I such an idiot?

If I had run, if I had gotten out the apartment, I would not have stopped running. I would have run until I was lost. Until I was far enough away to ask for help. I would tell someone who I am and that I needed help. The police would come to question me, my parents would be called, the tabloids would be filled with articles rich with rumors, lies, and ill-informed half-truths. Most importantly, though, I would be free.

If I had screamed, then maybe neighbors would have heard me. They might have called the police. Even if Ethan had caught me, drugged me, and thrown me back into the closet, they might have inspected the apartment. They would have found me. Then I would be rescued and Ethan would be arrested. Most importantly, though, I would be free.

On the other hand, if I had screamed and neighbors had heard me, it might not have mattered. Ethan could have caught me, drugged me, and thrown me back into the closet. When the police showed up, he would tell them it was him who was screaming. He'd hurt himself or saw a spider or whatever. It was nothing. If the police didn't have a warrant or reason to suspect Ethan of wrongdoing, then they would leave. If that had happened, then I probably would have been punished. At best, if Ethan was nice, that would mean being kept sedated and locked up. At worst, that might mean torture or murder.