Dang Fine Saviors

Day 1

Can we all just take a moment to admire the beautiful creation before us on the top/side... thank the amazing juicy40197 ... because it was her that gave us the opportunity to even look at this work of art called a man, and do an amazing job doing the title and everything else.. Bravo juicy40197 ... Bravo

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"So what am I supposed to do all day?" I ask Slate.

Lucas left a few minutes ago, he had to go "take care of stuff."

Before leaving he mentioned he would, "See ya later toots," with a wink and I am not sure what to think about that.

I am still seated on the chair thing, which is also a couch, that my teen ears has yet to learn the name of. A couch-chair it is.

"Anything you feel like that doesn't involve trying to escape or bugging me," he says coldly.

Back to the pissy Slate I know and love.

"Yay," I say.

"I'm going to go make a sandwhich," he uncrosses his arms and starts walking towards the kitchen.

Wait.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I have questions?" I pout.

"You don't deserve questions..."

"then I guess I will just have to escape again.." I warn.

He looks at me impatiently, "One question, but no guarrantee that I will answer it."

That was a different answer than I expected, "umm," I try to think.

He starts counting down, "5.. 4.."

"What's your favorite color?" I hurridly ask the first thing that comes to mind.

Favorite color? That's the best you could come up with Victoria?

He does that condescending smirk down at me, "sky blue."

While he's walking through the swinging door he yells, "Nice question."

"Nice answer," I retract although I don't know how my comeback might have been offensive.

Slate is out of sight.

Although the explanation given about why I was kidnapped could be really cool I decide that I should keep being skeptical about it.

You know, sleep with one eye open.

Keep the fork I stole last night around. Just in case.

I stand up from the couch realizing my need to pee.

"Could you point me in the direction to the place where a girl can relieve herself?" I walk into the kitchen to Slate smearing mayo on a sandwich.

He looks up, "there's a bathroom right next to your room."

Your room.

As in I have ownership over it.

As in this stay is not short term.

"Let's not call it that," I say, "how about from now on we refer to the room as The Homestead," I offer the first name that comes to mind from the book I just recently finished.

He raises his brow at me probably wondering about my discomfort with the original name. Or maybe just thinking about how weird I am.

"Glad we agree," I point finger guns at him as I exit to use the restroom.

I use the giganto bathroom and then decide it is about time for a shower, it's been like 3 days since I have.

Before I do I make sure the door really does lock and put my fork in a reachable position just in case Slate comes in. It's best to be paranoid than raped right?

When I see that my same brand of conditioner is on the rail from home and that there are fresh towels sitting on a shelf, it makes me realize how they must have really prepared for me.

It both scares and comforts because

a) what kind of danger was I in for them to prepare this much (if I am in danger at all) and

b) Maybe this preparation proves that I wasn't kidnapped for whore use in the first place because I haven't ever heard of a kidnapping that's victim was treated this well (besides Slate's way of speech and jerkiness) I have been treated good.

It's also only Day One so my analysis is probably too early to tell.

I spend a half hour in the shower because at home there is a five minute rule and I just have always wanted to stay in for a minute longer and I decided to make it an extra twenty five minutes longer instead.

It was twenty five minutes of bliss.

Uninterrupted bliss, which gives the non-rape side of my hypothetical score sheet one point.

I'm hungry.

I change and go downstairs.

I have chosen to wear a teal Nike hoodie today and black yoga leggings today.

On the table there is a note:

I'll be back in an hour. Don't try anything. You can watch netflix on either of the tvs, listen to music on the speaker, run on the treadmill or, actually that's the only things you can do. Don't try anything.

He mentions not to try anything more than once so that must mean that I have to try something. What? It's my rebellious side.

I look to the iPod on the table hooked up to the speaker.

A shuffle.

Of course.

What in the world am I going to do without social networking?

At least I have Friends. The show.

Before I go begin a marathon I to explore.

It failed.

All of the doors in the house are locked except the kitchen, my roo-er-the homestead, the bathroom and the living room.

"Disappointing," I mutter to myself then decide before I go watch tv all day that I will do something productive. Like a prank.

Hey it was his fault for saying quote, not to try anything. Twice.

I saw some icy-hot in the bathroom so I smother it on the kitchen sink handle and the top couple pieces of the sandwich meat.

Which by the way is the only thing decent in the fridge.

All of the stuff there is healthy crap.

I go to my roo- The Homestead to begin my binge watch for the day.

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Not the most exciting chapter, I hope you don't mind because I'm trying to do the next one in less than a week and I think it will be fun to read because it's been fun to write so far.

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