Stockholm Syndrome

10/20 8:00

I miss the sky. Looking up at the royal blue atmosphere above me and embracing the stars is one of the many dreams my brain imagines.

I miss the air hitting my face as I strolled down a street.

I miss cold snow on the ground lighting up the sidewalk.

I miss sound of chatting and cars honking in Times Square.

I even miss the blazing heat radiating off burning sun that lit up the horizon back home.

Oh, the beach; you never realize how much you crave the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore as they hide mysteries of the deep.

That room gave me time to think. Time to think about all I've done to deserve this and what I should do differently if I ever get out. Was it something I said to a friend or stranger? Was it talking to a person I guess I wasn't supposed to? Or was it just the way I lived my life, alone and free. He just had to take it away from me. From time to time a voice in my head will tell me to give up. It keeps telling me that I'll never get away, no matter what I try. But, I can do it; I just don't know how.

The door creaked open. I sat on my bed quietly as I waited his arrival inside the dark, dun tomb I was residing in.

"I brought you your breakfast," he sounded optimistic, walking in towards me. "And I need to change your bandages."

Oh yes, the cuts on my wrists I made with a sharp piece of concrete from my recent suicide attempt. I was almost gone when he found me lying on the floor in my own blood. I never had a chance to really listen to what he was muttering as he stopped the bleeding. He "saved" me yet again; my hero.

"You've been very good this week," he whispered as his hands reached mine.

"One question." I started, "were you dropped on your head as a child or were you just born a psychopath?"

"You're smart Scarlett. You should know what a psychopath is. And I'm sure not one."

"That's exactly what a psychopath would say." I looked away sighing.

"What's the definition of a psychopath Ms. Know-it-all?"

"A psychopath is a person that has amoral and antisocial behaviors, failure to learn from experience, and lacks the ability to love or to establish meaningful personal relationships."

"Well if I were a psychopath would I take care of you, like I am at this moment?" He asked wrapping up the gauze on my left wrist.

"Well, no-"

"Would I have cried so hard when I found you on the ground when you hurt yourself." I was about to speak when he interrupted me again.

"Would I have taken the time to learn about you for as long as I did?"

I sighed, "no."

"But hey, I'll make you a deal. If you stop hurting yourself, I'll answer any of your questions, but no more one a day."

I looked at him. "I've got nothing else better to do."

"I'll take that as a yes then."

I nodded.

"Well eat your breakfast and I'll be back later." He raised his body and closed the door behind him.

I took the wooden tray of food he left me and set it on my lap. Surprisingly for a crazy person, he actually made good oatmeal.

What is his agenda? How could any psychopath act this emotional. I will not die before I figure out what the hell I am doing here. That'll be the last thing I'll ever do as a sane person. I promise.