Stockholm Syndrome {h.s}

Two

After an hour of excepting my mother leaving me for the night with a man I had never even known existed, I find myself in the kitchen fixing dinner. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy for her to find a man after my father's death four years ago, it's just new to me... clearly. I'm just worried for her as she'd be me; like, what if he's making her feel uncomfortable? What if he is being rude or ignorant and not who she expected he was? What if he did something unimaginable to her? I should stop thinking like this, I don't even know the man and she said he was amazing, wow, I'm totally over thinking this. I shake my head and let out a small laugh at my silly thoughts as I pour dressing into my bowl of lettuce and vegetables.

I walk over to the living room and bend down to pick up the television remote on the couch and watch as the television screen comes alive and sound surrounds me. I toss the remote back onto the couch cushion and I sit back on the couch ready to dig into the salad that seems to be calling my name considering I didn't eat much today.

Dammit I forgot a fork.

I groan in frustration, tilting my head back and lift my body back up and walk back over to the kitchen to pull the drawer and grab a shinny utensil closing the drawer behind me as I walk back over to the couch and plopping my body onto the cushion, my body sinking into the couch.

When I'm done my salad, I'm completely stuffed. I move my eyes to the big clock hanging from the wall. 7:42. Time ticks by when you're watching your favourite shows. Another eighteen minutes go by and it's 8:00pm. I grab my empty bowl and turn the television off, walking back over to the kitchen to put my dishes into the dishwasher. My mother always taught me to clean up after myself and that's how I'll always be.

After cleaning the kitchen, I head upstairs to study. When I reach the top of the stairs, I go straight to my room. When I push open my door and turn on my light I look around my room for my bag full of my books.

Dammit I forgot my bag downstairs!

"Fuck," I mummer to myself. What is it with me today? I stock out of my room and rush down to get my bag. I turn back around and my muscles are tired from my little rant so I find myself going upstairs slowly with my head down. I look up slightly when I get to the top of the staircase. I gasp and my eyes widen at the sight in front of me, dropping my school bag as well. A tall dark figure stands less than a foot away from me, only the light from my room distant but I still don't recognize the face. I try to move or run or anything! But my feet seem to be glued to the floor.

"Well, hello baby," a deep but raspy british accent says to me, sending chills down my spine. I turn heading for the stairs but I'm grabbed, a big muscular arm wrapping around my shoulders and a sharp pain comes to my head. I don't remember anything after that.

***

Hello loves! I hope you all enjoyed! Sorry for the small chapter! Vote and comment!