I don't know anything anymore. I've been trapped in this room for what feels like forever. Almost a week, and I haven't seen the light of day. She brings food and clean clothes, but I'm still her prisoner. I hope Grace—or my father—hasn't given up looking for me.
She's playing it smart, though. Takeout from my favorite places, plastic utensils so I can't turn anything into a weapon. Like that's supposed to win me over.
When she comes this time, I can't hold it in. I need answers.
"Are you ever going to let me go?" I demand, my voice shaky with frustration. "Or are you just going to kill me when this is all over?"
Her smile is sickly, unbothered. "This will be a long while, sweetheart. And I still haven't decided which yet."
She leaves, and her words hang in the air. I feel my anger bubbling over. I can't stand this anymore. I need out.
That night, I make my move. I pack my bag, scanning the room for any advantage. I look at myself in the mirror—bags under my eyes, hair a mess—and punch it. The glass shatters. Carefully, I gather the shards, waiting for the right moment.
Then I hear the doorknob turn.
"Is everything okay in here?" Her voice drifts through the room, light and mocking. She steps inside.
"Yeah... everything's fine," I lie, keeping my voice steady. My heart is pounding. My bag is ready, glass hidden beneath it.
Adrenaline spikes. I grab the shards and jab her arm before she can react. She falls, cursing and scrambling. I don't hesitate—I grab my bag and sprint down the stairs, knocking out two bodyguards along the way. My chest burns, my legs scream, but I don't stop.
Outside, rain pours over me. I don't look back. I run until I reach a gas station, break down, and sob into my hands, the blood and the fear mixing in a blur.
Through the tears, I realize I'm near Kian's neighborhood. Barefoot and soaked, I clutch my bag and stumble toward the gates. I know he probably doesn't want to see me like this, but I don't care. I have nowhere else to go.
I knock. A young girl opens the door—dark-skinned, long black hair, familiar somehow.
"Sorry to bother you, but is Kian here?" I ask, trying to smile despite the mess, keeping my hands hidden behind my back.
She looks down at my bare feet before calling for him.
Seconds later, Kian appears, shirtless, wearing only joggers. I freeze, staring.
"Hi," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see, but I didn't have a phone, and I know your family is probably being blamed for my disappearance."
He steps forward, pulls me into a hug, and suddenly, for the first time in days, I feel safe. Warmth and familiarity wrap around me.
"Come on in," he says, motioning me inside. "Sorry about my cousin. That's Roselina."
He leads me upstairs into his bathroom. Without questions, he grabs a warm washcloth and starts wiping dried blood from my hands and face. I don't speak—I'm too tired, too raw.
He disappears for a moment, then returns with a shirt and sweatpants.
"Take a shower," he says simply. "I'll be right here when you're done."
No questions. No judgment. Just... help.
I strip off my bloodied clothes and step into the hot shower. Steam clouds the mirrors, but I let the water wash over me, letting the tension, fear, and exhaustion slip away. I stay under it as long as I can, just breathing, just being human again.
Thirty minutes later, I step out, changed into Kian's oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants.
He's sitting on the bed, waiting quietly. I feel... a little safer. Not safe, not yet, but safer.
"Can I use your phone to call my dad?" I ask, voice barely a whisper.
He hands it to me without a word. I dial. Voicemail. My heart pounds, but then I remember Grace.
"Hey, Gracie, it's me, Stella. I'm okay. I'm safe. Don't worry—tell my dad, and I'll see you in the morning."
"Oh my god, Stella! I've been so worried! Steele wouldn't have left unless he knew you were safe. I love you!"
"I love you too," I whisper, hanging up.
I hand the phone back to Kian.
"You can sleep on the bed if you don't mind sharing with me again," he says, offering a small smile.
I nod. Strange as it feels, I allow myself to feel comforted. For the first time in days, I'm not completely alone.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing with a stranger
Ficção AdolescenteStella was born into the black Knights gang. Her mother was killed and her brother was kidnapped. with her father being the only one left in her family and her best friend now joining. At 21 now she's willing to stop at nothing to figure out what ha...
