*Three Months Later*
"Good morning" I smile, walking into the kitchen and seeing Harris cooking. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around him.
"You're in a good mood" He laughed. I laughed along with him before letting go and walking into the living room.
"How could I not be after last night?" I smirked, sitting down on the couch.
Harris told me, last night, that I was probably gonna have to stay a little longer than expected. Two years longer to be exact.
I, of course, freaked out and tried running away for the umpteenth time. Which landed me electrocuted again.
He dragged me back into the house and we ended up having sex.
Look, don't judge me- our relationship is very complicated.
But afterwards, I starting thinking...How could I escape?
As much as I didn't want to, half of me found this liking for Harris.
He was really a nice guy- just made a horrible decision.
That decision withheld my freedom, and the other half of me will always hate him for that.
So I thought, maybe I should play along. Be a "good girl", stop fighting him.
These pass three months have been a constant cycle of argument, escape, punishment, sex.
The punishment and sex parts I wasn't against but that's besides the point.
I hadn't tried to leave in 4 weeks, I mean- up until last night.
He had found a new trust for me....again, up until last night.
So, like I said, I gotta just act as if I had given up.
There was a phonebooth a little down the road. I couldn't measure it, but it seemed to be like 23 feet away, maybe.
Which, of course, is passed the distance I'm allowed to go from the house.
I never tried to go to it because Harris always caught me before I got too far and the pain of the shock was just too much.
What he didn't know was, after trying to escape so many times- I've built up a small tolerance from the shock.
I could last maybe 3 1/2 minutes without completely passing out or running back.
Which isn't long- but I don't need that long to call the police.
I just needed to be quick and have Harris somehow stay in the house.
So, you may ask, why was I so happy when I seen him making breakfast?
Well, because he was making muffins using the batter I pre-made last night. The batter that consists of a little bit of crushed up pills that I found in his drawers.
Enough to kill him? No. Enough to knock him out? Yes. He just needed to eat two.
Some time went by as I watched him take them out the oven. He sat them down to cool and gave me my plate of grits, eggs, and bacon.
"The muffins should be cooled once we're done eating" He said. I nodded and ate in silence, anticipating him going to get the muffins.
Soon enough, he got up and grabbed two, handing one to me.
