Stockholm Syndrome

5.

The next few days felt even less auspicious than the last.

Murdoc found joy in making my life a living hell, asking me to do impossible jobs only to belittle me after I completed them. It seemed whenever we had a talk he'd end it by making me feel weak and stupid. I could tell he was only testing me, but the conversation we had in the kitchen still irked me. The thought of him taking advantage of me made me sick to my stomach.

Yet he had been quieter today, and seemed distracted by something. I didn't question it; it wasn't any of my business, and I didn't particularly care about what was bothering him. I only did as I was told and kept my mouth shut, and so far it worked, Murdoc mostly kept to himself while I did my job.

Today was laundry day, so I had been cleaning the boys' clothes for the majority of the morning. It was a long process of washing, drying, and folding; and it got repetitive fast. Thankfully I was on the last load, and all that was left was to fold them.

Taking a deep breath, I placed the last of the clean clothes into the basket by my feet. I stretched my arms a bit before leaning down to grab it with both my hands, picking it up with a huff. Gripping the basket tightly, I made my way out of the laundry room and down the hall, headed for the living room. I had found that the couch was a good place to fold the clothes, and it was probably the brightest room in the whole building.

My eyes wandered my surroundings as I ambled down the hall. The off-white walls were mostly bare, a few portraits hung here and there. My eyes met the window at the end of the hall, and I slowed down as I noticed the blue haired boy standing outside; his back was facing me as he leaned on the railing. Curiosity got the best of me as I stopped to watch him for a moment, my head tilting slightly as I saw a cloud of smoke escape him and dissipate into the sky.

My gaze left the window and I turned to walk into the living room, holding the basket a little closer. When I reached the couch, I sat the basket down. My eyes moved to the sliding glass door that led to the deck, which was slightly ajar, and I bit my lip. Glancing around the room to make sure Murdoc wasn't around, I took a deep breath.

The silence of the room brought anxiety spiking through me as I quietly made my way over to the door. With much hesitation, I stepped outside onto the patio, my feet burning slightly on the hot concrete. I squinted as the sunlight hit my eyes, and as I looked at my surroundings, my gaze met the boy's. Working up some courage, I made my way over to him, shooting him a small smile.

"Hi." I greeted him meekly, and his eyes trailed up and down me for a moment.

"Hey." He simply replied, shoving his hand in one of his pockets simultaneously.

I watched as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, opening it promptly after and pulling one out. He placed the cigarette in his mouth before motioning the pack to me.

"Oh, no... I don't smoke." I declined his offer, shaking my head.

The boy shrugged slightly, lighting his cigarette before placing both the items back in his pocket. I moved next to him, and leaned up against the railing, my eyes wandering the beach below.

"I'm Juliet, by the way." I smiled again, looking at him.

"I know who you are." The boy responded, taking a drag off his cigarette.

My smile faded slowly as I turned my face from him, "Oh..."

An eerie quiet filled the air, the only thing that could be heard was the crash of the waves on the beach below. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to relax.

"My name's Stuart," He introduced himself, breaking the silence, "but everyone just calls me 2D."

Curiosity struck me as I looked at him, a small gust of wind blowing his blue hair out of his face. His fingers played with the cigarette in his hand for a moment before he brought it to his lips once again.