Dancing with a stranger

Chapter |13 ✨

I don't know anything anymore. I've been trapped in this room for what feels like ages. It's been almost a week, and I haven't seen the light of day. She brings me food and clean clothes, but I'm still her prisoner. I hope Grace, or my father, hasn't given up hope of finding me.

She's playing it smart, though-giving me food with plastic utensils, so I can't even do anything with them. And it's all takeout, from my favorite places, like she thinks that's going to win me over.

This time, when she comes, I can't hold it in anymore. I need answers.

"Are you ever going to let me go?" I ask, my voice shaky with frustration. "Or are you just going to kill me when this is all over?"

She looks at me with a sickly smile, unfazed. "This will be a long while, sweetheart. And I still haven't decided which yet."

She leaves, but her words linger, making me feel even more trapped. The anger inside me is boiling over. I keep trying to figure out a way out of here, but it feels impossible. I can't stand being here anymore. She's driving me insane.

That night, I decide to make a move. I pack my bag, preparing for my escape. I look at myself in the bathroom mirror-the bags under my eyes, my messy hair-and I'm so angry I punch the mirror. The glass shatters, and I carefully pick up the pieces, waiting for the right moment.

And then, I hear the doorknob turn.

"Is everything okay in here?" Her voice calls out, and I hear her step inside. She's walking toward me, her eyes flicking around the room.

"Yeah, everything's good," I say, trying to sound calm, even though my heart is pounding in my chest. My bag is ready, and the glass is hidden underneath it. I stand up, grabbing the bag and the glass shards beneath it, moving toward her with a sudden burst of adrenaline.

I stab her in the arm before she can react.

She falls to the ground, cursing as she struggles to get up. I grab my bag and bolt down the stairs, knocking out two bodyguards on the way. My heart is racing. I don't look back.

I make it outside, through the front door, and I don't stop running until I get to a gas station. My hands are covered in blood. I break down, sobbing in the rain, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me.

Through my tears, I realize I'm close to Kian's neighborhood. Barefoot and drenched, I clutch my bag and make my way through the gates. I know I'm probably the last person he wants to see, but it's the only place I can think of right now.

I knock on the door, my heart pounding. The door opens, and there stands a young girl, dark-skinned and beautiful with long black hair. She looks familiar, like someone who could be related to Kian.

"Sorry to bother you, but is Kian here?" I ask, trying to smile, even though I'm sure I look like a mess. I hold my hands behind my back, hoping she won't notice the blood.

She looks down at my bare feet and then calls for Kian.

Within seconds, Kian walks down the stairs, shirtless and wearing only joggers. I freeze for a moment, staring at him, and clear my throat.

"Hi," I say, barely above a whisper. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see, but I didn't have a phone or anything, and I know your family is probably being blamed for kidnapping me."

The moment I finish speaking, he steps forward and pulls me into a hug, surprising me. His warmth is the only comfort I've had in days.

"Come on in," he says, motioning for me to enter. "Sorry about my cousin. That's Roselina."

Kian leads me upstairs into his bathroom. Without asking questions, he grabs a washcloth, runs it under warm water, and begins wiping the blood from my hands and face, where it's dried from pushing my hair back. I don't say anything, too tired to even speak.

He leaves for a moment and returns with a shirt and some sweatpants. "Take a shower," he says simply. "I'll be right here when you're done."

His lack of questions is a relief. I don't have to explain myself or try to justify anything.

I strip off my bloodied clothes, feeling the cold hit my skin, and step into the hot water. The steam fills the room, but I can't shake the exhaustion from my body, the weight of everything that's happened. I stay under the hot water for as long as I can, just trying to breathe, to feel human again.

After about 30 minutes, I get out and change into the clothes Kian gave me-a sweatshirt two sizes too big and some sweatpants.

When I walk into the bedroom, Kian is sitting on the bed, waiting for me. It's quiet, but I can't help but feel a little safer here, even though I know nothing is guaranteed.

"Can I use your phone to call my dad?" My voice barely escapes me.

He nods and hands it over without a word. I dial my father's number, but it goes straight to voicemail. I try not to panic. My last hope is Grace.

When she picks up, I almost break down. "Hey, Gracie, it's me, Stella. I'm okay. I'm safe right now. Don't worry. Just tell my dad I'm safe and I'll see you both in the morning."

"Oh my god, Stella, I'm so relieved! I've been worried sick about you. Steele wouldn't leave your dad unless he knew you were okay. I love you."

"I love you too, Gracie," I whisper before hanging up.

I hand the phone back to Kian, feeling a bit of relief.

Kian looks at me, his expression unreadable. "You can sleep on the bed if you don't mind sharing with me again," he says, offering a small smile.

I nod, and though it's strange, I feel comforted by the offer. It's the first time in days I feel like I'm not completely alone.