I woke to the sensation of rough fingertips dragging along my skin. They traced the curve of my hip before brushing a strand of my hair back over my shoulder. Though my mind was still hazy from sleep, I pushed away the hand. "Stop," I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut. I wasn't ready to wake just yet.
"Wake up..." a low, rumbling voice breathed against my skin. A surge of adrenaline rushed through me as I remembered where I was and who the voice belonged to. Alex must have felt my body go stiff, because his fingers stopped teasing my skin. Instead, he slid his arm around my waist, flattening his palm against my stomach. "You don't need to be scared of me Jamie."
Hesitantly, I reached for the hand on my stomach, pushing it away. When Alex complied, I pulled the edge of the t-shirt down and sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. "Do you have to touch me so much?" I asked. The anxiety that had left me during sleep was returning once again. Alex raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I get your whole goal for this insane plan of yours, but aren't you supposed to be lulling me into compliance or something?" I said.
"Would it achieve a different result?" he asked. His blue eyes danced with mischief. I paused, thrown by the question. Obviously the answer was no, but I couldn't say that if I wanted him to stop touching me. "I didn't think so." He stared at me, taking in my appearance. I nervously tugged at the hem of the t-shirt again, wishing I had some pants.
"Uh... Can I have some real clothes now?" I asked tentatively. He didn't respond for a moment. "You're not expecting me to stay naked, right? You had clothes for me in the closet," I said.
He sighed dramatically before offering me a wry smile. "Of course not. I want you to feel comfortable while we get to know each other a little better today," he said. I stiffened, unsure what he meant. He took in my posture and amended his words. "Talking, Jamie. I meant we'd be talking." I relaxed just a bit.
"Okay..." I said hesitantly. "So can you unlock the cabinets in the closet now?"
"Of course," he said. But, he didn't stand. Instead, he seemed to be hesitating. "I know you're going to fight me on this, but we both need to shower."
"No," I said stiffly.
"Jamie-"
"I'm not taking a shower with you." I turned an icy glare on him. He stared back coolly.
"I didn't mean you had to take a shower with me. I meant we both needed to take one. Not necessarily together, although I wouldn't be opposed," he said, giving me his best, disarming smile. When my demeanor didn't change, he sighed. "I'll give you 20 minutes to shower and get dressed, and then I'll be coming back in."
I knew I needed to start picking my battles, but it was difficult. It was difficult not to fight every action, every demand, every statement. Not fighting felt like compliance. Acceptance. I bit back another denial before stiffly nodding. "Fine," I said through clenched teeth.
"Good," he said, heading towards the bathroom and closet. "Let's get you some clothes then."
After unlocking the cabinets and allowing me to choose an outfit while he pulled on a pair of shorts, he left me in the bathroom alone. I stood for a moment, anxiety welling up within me. I heard the bedroom door open and close. I rolled my shoulders, taking a deep breath. If I didn't want him to return while I was naked in the shower, then I needed to get to work. I quickly stripped down, leaving my clothes on the floor for the moment. Alex had explained that everything I needed was already in the shower.
I timidly stepped into the stone shower room. The shower was a work of art. It wasn't large as far as rooms go, but it was the largest shower I had ever seen. The room was around five foot by five foot with a slate floor and light colored, smooth stone tile walls. There were two shower heads. I tried not to think more on that observation.
I turned a knob, fidgeting until I figured out how the shower worked. Within moments, steam filled the room. I stepped under the spray, sighing as I felt the sweat and grime on my body wash away. As promised, I found shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and face wash on a recessed shelf in the shower. They were all the brand I typically bought for myself. Briefly, I wondered if they were actually mine from home. I wouldn't put it past him. He'd obviously brought other personal items of mine.
As I tilted the half empty bottle of shampoo in my hand, my stomach quivered. It was mine. I hadn't thought too much about how he'd managed to extract me from my room until that moment. I had been too focused on escaping my current situation to think of anything else.
But now, my stomach was in knots. I felt sick. How had he managed to sneak into my room, drug me, carry me out of the house and still managed to go back for other things without waking my parents? I had a hazy panic filled memory of him being on top of me and telling me they wouldn't be interrupting. Why was he so sure? What had he done?
I rushed through the rest of my shower, trying not to let myself go down the rabbit hole. I didn't want to think about the possibility that Alex was capable of murder. Even though I'd only known him a short time, that didn't seem realistic. Was he delusional? Obviously, in some ways. Violent? I didn't think so, but I couldn't know for sure.
I had just finished toweling off and getting dressed when I heard the bedroom door open. I wasn't ready to face him. I picked up a brush from the counter and started working the knots out of my wet hair. There was a knock on the bathroom door. It caught me by surprise. I had half expected him to just walk in. When the door didn't open, I reached out and opened it a fraction. Alex dipped into the room, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "Enjoy your shower?" he asked as I set the brush down and reached for my curl cream hair product.
I worked the product through the ends of my hair, working my way up. I tried not to avoid eye contact as I did so. "It was a bit unnerving," I said after a moment. When he didn't say anything in response, I continued. "Did you actually bring my stuff from my house?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
"How?" I asked as I moved on to the next product.
"What do you mean?" he asked. I wasn't sure if he was feigning confusion or if it was genuine.
"How did you manage to break into my house, drug me, get me out of the house, and take a bunch of my belongings without getting caught? My parents should have woken up. We live less than ten minutes from a police station. Police should have been there before you even had a chance to start driving away," I said.
"What are you really asking me Jamie?" he said. His gaze had hardened just a bit. I didn't answer. I was terrified to ask the question that was haunting me. "You want to know if I killed them?" he said bluntly.
"Did you?" It came out as a whisper. A frustrated sigh left his lips as he closed his eyes and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"Is that why you're acting so scared of me?" he asked.
"No," I said with a scoff. "I have plenty of other reasons to be scared of you. This is a more recent concern." I didn't really believe he'd killed or hurt my parents, but I had to know for sure.
"I'm not a killer, Jamie," he said softly. "I have no intention of hurting anyone. Your parents most likely have no idea what really happened."
"How is that even possible though? They aren't exactly heavy sleepers. I screamed. I remember," I argued.
"I used chloroform on them before I even came into your room. I made sure that they wouldn't wake up. They're probably confused as hell but there's not a whole lot they can do about you being gone," he said. He sounded far too calm and confident for my liking.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.
"They think you ran away, Jamie," he answered. I was floored. Ran away? Why would they think that? "I told you. I've been planning this for months. I didn't want the police looking for us."
"Obviously my parents are still going to call the police," I said, stumbling through the words.
"Maybe, but it won't do much good," he said with a shrug. "You left a note for your parents, drained your bank account, packed a few bags, and left in the middle of the night. It's not a very convincing case for kidnap."
I was stunned into silence. He really had planned it out. "They'll realize it's not my handwriting," I said, grasping at straws.
"Give me a little credit," he said with a hesitant smile. "I've perfected your handwriting over the last few months." I didn't have a response. What was I supposed to say to that?
If what he was saying was true, there was no one looking for me. And if no one was looking for me, I was completely on my own. Alex wasn't exactly a genius but if he really had spent months preparing for my abduction, I was screwed. There was very little chance of me escaping anytime soon.
And that meant I needed to prepare myself. The reality was, some things were probably going to happen before I escaped this nightmare. "You're disappearing into your head again. Where are you going?" His voice snapped me back into the present. My hands were trembling. I shoved them into the pockets of my jeans.
"How long do I have before you take what you want?" I asked boldly.
"I'm not sure that's something you really want to discuss, Jamie," he said cautiously.
"Will it be soon or do you want me to be willing when it happens?" I persisted.
He leveled his gaze, stepping forward to place his hands on my shoulders. I squirmed, resisting the urge to bolt. "I haven't decided yet."
"I thought you had this all planned out?"
"I couldn't plan out exactly how you'd react, Jamie. I know a lot about you. I've had some insight as to the way you think and process things, but I'm not psychic, and I knew that you'd end up throwing me a few curve balls," he said.
"What are you leaning towards right now then?" I asked. My stomach was a fluttering, anxious mess. His fingers trailed from my shoulders, along my spine, to my lower back. A shiver ran through me as a blush crept up my neck.
"Not knowing is part of the experience," he teased. He leaned in, quickly pressing a kiss to my lips before stepping away. It happened so fast that I didn't have time to react.
"Stop kissing me," I blurted out, the heat creeping up to my cheeks now.
"I can't," he laughed. "That's part of the experience too." He unbuttoned the shorts he had pulled on that morning and let them drop to the floor. I spun towards the door. Obviously our conversation was over. I retreated to the bedroom, sitting cross legged on the bed as the shower started.
Ten minutes later, Alex strode out of the bathroom wearing dark jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. "How about some breakfast?" he asked.
"Sure," I mumbled, hopping off the bed to follow him. As we made our way to the kitchen, I wondered if I should start our conversation up again. I felt a little more at ease knowing that my parents hadn't been hurt and while they were probably worried about me, they most likely weren't scared for my well-being. It was something to be grateful for.
As Alex poured cereal for both of us, I watched him. Who was he? Why was he doing this? "I wanted us to get to know each other a little better," he said as he passed me a bowl and spoon.
"I thought you knew everything about me," I muttered as we sat at the table by the window once again.
"I know a lot about you, but I don't know everything. There's a lot of things I've wondered about over the last two years. Things I've wanted to ask you," he said. It surprised me. There wasn't really anything that interesting about me.
"I'm not really in the mood to tell you even more personal details about myself," I said, pushing my cereal down into the milk.
"Well I thought that maybe we could trade questions and answers. You can ask me a question about myself and I'll answer honestly, and then I get to ask you a question," he offered.
I shoveled a spoonful of Captain Crunch into my mouth as I thought it over. The little game couldn't hurt me in any way. If the questions got sexual or anything like that, I'd just stop. It'd be a good way to learn more about him. I needed to know more about him if I wanted to convince him to let me go or learn something that would give me leverage. "Okay," I agreed. "But if you ask me any pervy questions, I'm done."
"Would you like to start?" he asked.
"Uh... Okay," I said, trying to think of a question. "Tell me about your family."
He smiled. "I'm fairly close to my parents. Less so over the last two years. They obviously wouldn't approve of what I'm doing, but I still have dinner with them at least once every few weeks. I don't have any siblings. Grandparents and other extended family live on the other side of the country so we're not close." I deflated a little. I had hoped he had a sister. Someone to use to play on his sympathy.
"Alright, your turn, I guess," I said.
"I want to know about your dad," he said. A jolt of shock went through me. It hadn't occurred to me that he might ask about him.
"What exactly do you want to know?" I asked.
"What happened?" He said, leaning forward in his seat. "Sometimes your mom will try to talk to you about him but you tend to shut down those conversations pretty quickly. I've never seen him visit even though he lives just a city over."
My heart clenched as old hurts welled up within me. I tried not to let it show on my face. "There's not much to tell. He left when I was ten, married someone else, and hasn't really wanted anything to do with me since. I get a birthday and Christmas card every year, but other than that, nothing." Alex waited, watching my face.
"I'm sorry, Jamie," he said when I didn't continue speaking. I shrugged, shoving another bite of cereal into my mouth.
"How were you able to afford building this house? Are you rich or something?" I asked.
"Depends on your definition of rich," he said. I raised an eyebrow. "I won the lottery when I was twenty-three."
"No you didn't," I said in disbelief.
He grinned. "Ten point eight million dollars after taxes. I paid off student loans, car, and my parents' house and then I invested the rest. I feel fairly confident that we won't run out of money any time soon. This property and the house definitely put a small dent in the balance, but we can easily live off the dividends and interest." I was stunned. I'd been kidnapped by a delusional millionaire. "It's our money now," he offered. "Once you're adjusted, we can travel or buy a house closer to our parents if you want. I know you've always wanted a farm and to ride horses."
"How long do you think it'll be until I'm adjusted?" I asked.
He smirked. "That's another question. It's my turn," he said. I frowned. "Where do you think your anxiety stems from?" I stared at him for a moment. I was surprised by his questions. They cut to the core of me. What made me who I was. I had expected questions about my friends or writing, not this.
"You'll have to be more specific. I have different forms of anxiety and they're caused by different things," I said hesitantly.
We continued for an hour, learning more about each other. He managed to learn some of my anxiety triggers, more information about my father, my greatest hopes and fears, and even some of my thoughts when it came to our situation. He had this way of putting me at ease and then drawing information out of me. It was unsettling. I rarely opened up to anyone.
I learned more about his upbringing. He had led a fairly normal childhood. He was a great student and went on to pursue a psychology major. When he revealed that piece of information, I realized I needed to be more careful. Looking back on the events of yesterday and this morning, I could now see how he had carefully laid out the situation. Letting me run from him, catching me, and then revealing that I wouldn't have been able to make it out anyway. Forcing me to strip naked and then giving me a shirt. Locking the access to clothing and then letting me choose an outfit once I agreed to take a shower. They were designed to let me think I had power or the means to negotiate, when in the end, he got the result he was after. It made me look at everything differently.
Despite all that, Alex had once again gotten the result he wanted. Because, now, he wasn't Alex, my stalker and kidnapper. He was Alexander Graham Strider, the only child of Bethany and James Strider. He had a schnauzer named Winnie growing up and fell in love with psychology because it helped him understand the people in the world around him.
I had fallen right into his trap. I didn't want to view him as a person. I needed to stop viewing him as Alex and go back to thinking of him as my captor. Anything else was giving Alex exactly what he wanted.