The Leader's Girl

9. Unlikely Friends?

Five days had slowly crawled by, each one feeling longer than the last. I was starting to feel like a prisoner in my own mind, trapped with only Juan and Jones as my company. Despite my initial reservations about Juan, we had found some common ground and he had even started to grow on me. In an attempt to pass the time, I had introduced him to my guilty pleasures of binge-watching "90 Day Fiancé" and indulging in sweetcorn-topped barbecue chicken pizza. To entertain ourselves, I had forced him to judge a makeshift fashion show featuring designer dresses from my closet.

I knew it may seem strange or even silly to others, but being stuck in a secluded cabin without any communication with the outside world can do strange things to a person's psyche. You start to cling onto anything that brings some semblance of normality or joy.

As the clock struck midnight, we lounged on the worn leather couch with an open bottle of tequila between us. Our eyes were glued to the TV screen, fully invested in yet another dramatic episode of the show.

Juan couldn't believe Ed's naivety, his hand wildly gesturing at the screen as he exclaimed his disbelief. "Seriously? How can Ed think she's with him for anything other than money?"

I couldn't help but play devil's advocate, defending Rose's intentions as I poured myself another drink. "Well, she does seem genuine in her feelings towards him," I argued.

There was a tense pause before Juan took another swig of his tequila on the rocks and turned to me with curious brown eyes. "Can I ask you something?" he finally spoke up.

"Sure," I replied cautiously.

"What changed?" he asked almost accusingly, "You stopped fighting and you haven't even attempted to escape since our first day here. Not even when I went out to get us pizza."

I hesitated before answering, not wanting to reveal too much. But the truth was, I had grown accustomed to our routine and felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence. "I don't know," I shrugged, "maybe it's the Stockholm Syndrome kicking in."

He let out a soft chuckle.

The weight of the glass in my hand was a comforting anchor as I leaned back into the plush sofa, crossing my legs and taking a sip of the amber liquid. My thoughts were scattered and rambling.

"I also realized, it's futile," I continued, shrugging, "my brother will do everything he can to get me out of this mess, and I guess I'm just hoping Jones doesn't kill me before that happens. And honestly... you're not the worst company Juan."

I could feel the alcohol starting to take effect, causing me to speak more freely.

"I'm not a fan of this situation," he said, swirling the liquid in his glass and watching the ice cubes knock against the sides, "If I didn't think Jones would kill me for it, I'd let you go in a heartbeat. We may do some pretty messed up things, but this.. this is on another level."

I nodded in understanding, gazing down at my drink and mulling over my next words.

"You didn't put me in this situation," I finally spoke up again, "can I ask how you ended up here? Working as one of his minions?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in thought before answering, "I wouldn't call myself a minion. I chose to be loyal to Jones."

"Why though?" I pressed on, curious about this mysterious man sitting beside me, "You don't seem anything like him."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he replied, "I've done some pretty bad things in my life too. But Jones saved me when no one else would, so I choose to stand by him."

My curiosity piqued even further at his mention of being saved by Jones.

"What do you mean?" I asked, eager to hear his story.