ELIZA

CHAPTER NINETEEN: RECOVERING

Cosmo entered the room. Since he couldn't find me in bed, he called my name. The world danced before my eyes. And I danced with it, still holding back the nausea.

When my kidnapper went to the bathroom to look for me, it was the perfect opportunity. The front door was still open.

I staggered to the exit, just like a drunkard. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse and careful as a hunting cat. The reality, however, was different. I could hear my feet and screech as I opened the door. I couldn't wait any longer, at least I wanted to try before he catch me. I ran outside.

The light outside blinded me. The bright rays of the sun that I normally loved made me close my eyes and go in the dark. I couldn't see anything, just after a while I opened my eyelids so as not to fall into the trees. Yes, there were a lot of trees there. Afer escaping from the cottage, I found myself in the forest. In the middle of a wild, unknown forest.

I heard him. He must have been chasing me, but I didn't want to stop running. I didn't want to make it easy for him. It was the game, and he was the hunter.

"Eliza!" he screamed passionately, though his voice seemed to be getting quieter. Or maybe it was just what I wanted, maybe he was running just right behind me?

I turned around, terrified. But no one was there. I stopped exhausted, and I threw up.

My heart was pounding, as if it wanted to get outside and see a little bit of the world. But I couldn't slow down, I couldn't let Cosmo take me again.

Where was I supposed to run? I looked around in panic. The forest I saw was unlike any I had walked in before. The bent, densely growing trees made it difficult for me to get through them. There was no path anywhere. There was no way out anywhere. I started walking forward, stumbling over protruding roots. I was walking into the unknown.

"Eliza," it was Cosmo's voice that I heard behind me. He was almost fatherly, as if he was lecturing me that what I had done was wrong.

I stood. I felt like crying again.

I didn't want to turn around, I didn't want to look at him. My knees buckled under me. I fell to the ground.

"Eliza, you have a fever," it was Cosmo who was already holding me in his arms, even though I tried to evade his grasp, bite him and scratch him. He didn't let me go, he held me as if in clamps. I felt vulnerable.

I was losing my strength. The pain in my head exploded every few seconds. I was slowly losing touch with reality. I had the feeling that I was dying.

I think I passed out because I woke up again on a well-known bed. This time I wasn't alone. Cosmo was sitting next to me.

My head didn't hurt anymore. Instead, I felt some damp material on my forehead.

"Leave it," the man said, grabbing my hand that was already going up. "I'm lowering the temperature with this."

When I yanked my hand away, I noticed a cannula. I looked to the side. Near the bed, as expected, I saw a drip. I raised my eyebrows, was he prepared for everything...?

"I have to admit your body doesn't like drugs in large amounts," he explained, running a hand through his hair. "I'd rather not give you anything anymore, bear in mind that any substance is harmful to you, so if you don't want to..."

"Are you blackmailing me?" I asked, pleased that I had regained my voice.

Before, I thought I was going to pretend. That I will act as if I don't want to escape anymore, and one day I'll just run away when he doesn't expect it. But now? Knowing that I was in some wilderness, even running away was not an option. I couldn't get away without preparing. Out of the two of us, only Cosmo knew where we were on the map.

"Why do you find it wrong?" he was annoyed. He got up from his chair and paced the room over and over. He looked like a madman with disheveled hair and a dispersed gaze. "Think of it as a vacation. Many girls would kill themselves to be here with me..."

"Not me," I shrugged. I was definitely not one of those idiots. Maybe in the past. Now, never.

He looked at me in a way that I felt remorse. It's ridiculous, but I lowered my eyes against the sheets as if I was afraid to hurt him.

"We had so much fun on the trip," he approached me, kneeling by the bed. "I want nothing more but you."

He grabbed my hands and started kissing them as if they were the most precious things in the entire universe.

I tore them away, frightened by his sudden confession. I was scared of myself. Instead of disgust, shivers ran down my body.

I hurt him again, but this time I couldn't apologize. I was the victim, not him. I couldn't let the Stockholm syndrome have me. I couldn't feel sorry for him.

The next two days I was getting better. I finally started to eat something and finally started to think soberly. It's amazing how quickly I felt well. I was walking around the house, rummaging everything I could. I was looking for maps, books, newspapers, any kind of clues. The apartment, however, was well prepared. Whenever I found something, it was in a foreign language and I didn't understand it at all.

From time to time, however, I came across mentions in English. It was nothing interesting to me, but I was bored, so I was reading this as well.