A Fresh Ending

Chapter 5

I remained inside my room for the next few days, trying to understand the meaning behind Steve's words. Bewilderment struck me on why I desired him to want me by his side more than ever. The thought made me think of Noa and the other women and what happened to them that night. I couldn't remember a thing, no matter how hard I tried. Headaches arose when I attempted to recall memories after picking up the gun.

"Ms. Y/L/N, are you feeling okay?" Ms. White questioned, placing a tray on the table next to me.

She limped about, taking a stance directly in front of me. She studied my emotionless face while I stared outside, the wind blowing about the autumn leaves.

"I saw you leave Mr. Kemp's room the other day. Is this why you have been keeping to yourself, young lady?" she asked in a motherly tone.

I remained unfazed, trying to push away anything that resembled feelings. No one needed to know that I was starting to feel something for the man on the other side of the house. I couldn't let that type of emotion show. I forbade myself from displaying any form of vulnerability.

"It's okay," the older woman whispered, patting my hand. "He is a good guy. His particular lifestyle is a bit outside the box, but from what I heard, he cares a great deal for you," she assured me, cupping my cheek.

I didn't want to believe Ms. White's words. It was better to think Steve didn't care. It made this situation challenging to despise him. Though I knew I didn't hate him, no matter how hard I tried. He took me away from my life, but the life I had before Steve wasn't really a life. Knowing he might care allowed me to visit him later in the evening.

The house was eerily quiet while tiptoeing towards Steve's room. A small fire in the fireplace lit the space. The flames danced on the walls, inviting me. I took time to take in my surrounding, finding Steve's taste didn't venture too far from his other place.

Steve appeared to have healed some since I last laid eyes on him. The swelling was barely visible, and some of his bandages were gone. I couldn't imagine the pain he must have experienced that night, but the aftermath seemed brutal.

Shuffling into the room, I placed myself next to Steve. I carefully moved, grabbing a fresh rag from the nearby bowl. I wrung out the rag before placing it on the man's forehead. I sighed, pulling my knees up under my chin and staring at the sleeping man.

Why did I feel empathy for Steve? Why did I want to do everything in my power to help him get better? I closed my eyes, realizing I was falling for him slowly with each passing minute I spent with Steve. None of this was normal. You weren't supposed to care for the person who kidnapped you and planned to sell your body parts for profit.

I moved from the bed to the chair next to the fireplace. I pulled my knees up under my body, gazing at the flames dancing inside the fireplace. I let my thoughts wander, thinking about how things could be if Steve felt as I did for him. Maybe my fate didn't have to be the same as the girls before me. I would do anything not to end up like them. Would I really do anything for Steve to save my life?

I glanced over my shoulder, finding Steve awake, staring at me. I wanted to scream, run, anything, but fear took over my body. I gazed back at him, waiting for him to say or do something.

"I've been waiting for you to come back and visit me," he finally spoke, pulling the rag off his head.

My eyes never left him as he slowly pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. I listened to him groan in pain as he moved. I knew with his injuries moving had to be difficult for him.

"Please, come and sit with me," he requested, patting the empty side of the bed next to him.

I didn't want to move. I didn't want to acknowledge the man who took so much from me in so little time. But as I sat there, staring into his eyes, I saw nothing but kindness gazing back at me. He didn't want to hurt me, and even if he did, Steve was still injured to inflict any sort of pain.