Lesser Evil

4| The Princess

It had been three days since my attempt to escape, which failed horribly and ended in a few painful realizations. I realized what he was saying was the truth. I could have been stuck in a situation much worse than this one. He was my kidnapper, he could've touched me inappropriately, could've taken advantage of me, could've beat me up, and left me to starve. But he hadn't, he hadn't done any of those things though I had hesitantly accepted that he was very much capable of doing them. He was powerful, twice my size, he could've easily forced himself on me. But he hadn't.

In return, I decided on playing nice. Maybe if I didn't act like a pain in his backside, he would let me go though I doubted it. But at least he wouldn't be compelled to do anything with me and leave me alone, even if I was still locked.

I also wondered where my father was. He was a top lawyer in the country, and he had his connections so why had he not been able to find me yet?

For a change, my kidnapper had left me alone for most of the time. I would see him twice for less than a minute each time as he came and handed me something to eat and left, taking the previous time's empty plate with him. I couldn't say I didn't appreciate it but... it intensified the feeling of loneliness with him not looming over my head. He was probably having his best sleep knowing he didn't have to watch over me with the iron binding my left ankle, confining me to this place to rot away. I was left to move about, but it didn't lessen the feeling of being treated like a pet dog, except the collar was a ring on my ankle.

The only thing keeping my shred of sanity intact was the sharp rock I had found laying on the floor. I tried to keep a tally of the time and days I had spent here, doodling on the walls, and the ground.

The food he had been bringing me seemed homemade for most part. I had enough experience with takeouts to know that they tasted different. It made me hesitate before eating, I wasn't sure if it was poisoned or not.

The familiar sound of the lock turning open ringed in my ears. My head snapped to the door, anticipating his arrival. It was the second meal of the day meaning it was nighttime.

He looked... different. I soon realized it was because his hood wasn't pulled up, his face wasn't concealed behind darkness. He looked like a normal human being like this. I didn't like the feeling of relief of that bloomed in my stomach at the sight of his face. He was actually human, like I was. I hadn't believed it.

"Sorry, I'm late." My eyebrows shot up at his quiet mumble. I wouldn't know if he was late, it's not like I had a way to keep track of time. What shocked me was his apology. He apologized.

Like all the previous times, he bent down to set the plate down. Unlike all the previous times, he sat down himself as well, grunting as he did so. Was he hurt? It was unnerving, it threw me off. He wasn't acting like my captor, he was acting human. I hated that he was acting human.

"What are you doing?" I slid to my left, away from him.

"Nothing, I just need few moments of peace." He tilted his head back, resting it against the wall as his eyes closed. His arm was propped on his raised knee, the other leg laying flat on the floor.

I was so, so confused with the change of behavior. I stared at him, trying to figure him out, but figures that he doesn't wear his emotions on his face. There was not a single indentation on his face that would tell me why he was acting like this, so different.

I noticed his features, for once all exposed under the flickering light bulb. His hair were a dark mess, strands going this way and that and some matted to his forehead with sweat. A small, easy-to-miss scar marred the skin right over his thick brows. Long lashes swept over his cheeks that seemed to have a red tint over the tan skin. His cheek— it was bleeding.

"Your cheek is bleeding." I told him anxiously, scared of his reaction. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me before reaching out the tip of his finger to spot the injury. It came back bloodied as expected.

"Ah, those assholes must've done more damage than I thought." He wiped the blood on his dark pants and closed his eyes again, unbothered. But I was bothered. The cut was constantly bleeding.

"What—what happened?" I asked, but I don't know why I did. Maybe I was yearning for some human conversation after three days of being alone.

To my surprise, he answered. "I was returning from the bar when I bumped into this guy who was a part of a trio. Those three guys pounced on me, I think they were just looking for a fight and I was the perfect candidate. Anyway, we fought and I had the situation under control until one of the guys whipped out a knife that threw me off. I dodged it but I guess he managed to get a cut on my face." That was a lot of information to absorb. Him visiting a bar, a fight with three guys that I assume he took down by himself considering he's here sitting with me. He was one dangerous man.

A frown etched onto my face. "You drink alcohol?"

His eyes opened once again and he ran me over with a lazy stare. The corner of his lip kicked up. "Yes, princess, I do." I scowled at the nickname but said nothing.

When he turned away and I took in more of his appearance, my eyes widened at the object pushed into his back pocket. There was no mistaking the black metal handle of a gun.

I backed away, getting as far as I could with the chain binding. He had a gun, and I would bet anything that it was real. "Y-You have a gun."

He glanced at me once before reaching behind him and pulling out the gun. He expertly tossed it in the air once, the gun landing back in his hand. His hand that I noticed had a scar running through the palm. Another indication that he was a dangerous man.

He nodded once, and continued to play with the gun like it was a child's toy. "I do." He paused his movements and turned to me, carefully observing me. "You're shaking." I hadn't realized until he spotted it out.

"P-Please put that away." I shut my eyes, disappointed at how weak my voice sounded. He listened and tucked the gun in his pocket again.

Slowly, he moved closer to me. I tried backing away but my ankle strained against the chain. "Why are you shaking? Are you scared of me?" I would've found the tilt of his head adorable if I didn't know the reality. "You don't have to be scared of me, princess. There are people in this world who are far more evil than I am, trust me, I would know."

I gulped, my heartbeat easing. "Why do you keep saying that?"

He ignored me. "What's your name?"

What? My eyebrows furrowed comically. How can he not know my name? "You don't know?"

"What's your name, princess?" He pushed.

"Ayat."

He looked thoughtful as he repeated my name. I hate how my name sounded coming from his mouth.

"You have a beautiful name."

I pushed aside the compliment. "What—what's your name?" I definitely didn't expect him to tell him his name.

He stayed silent for a few seconds. "My name... You can call me Shaz."

I could call him Shaz, but that wasn't his real name. That's what he meant.

Then, I thought of an explanation for why he was acting so uncharacteristically. He'd been consuming alcohol, which I have heard can mess with a person's senses. "Are you drunk, Shaz?" There was absolutely no need for me to say his name, but I did anyway. It rolled out smoothly, which I reluctantly accepted that I liked.

He froze for a hot five seconds before he quickly pushed himself up on his feet until I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Eyes that he hid behind his hood once again. "I thought the fight would have sobered me up but guess not, considering I'm here having a chat with you."

I only watched as he took a step back, and another before he turned and stalked toward the door, the metal shutting behind him with a loud bang.

He left me here all alone again.