Captured

Chapter 1

I never knew I would capture you so soon.

You're laying down facing me with lips partially open. Your breathing is gentle and slow. You're sleeping so deeply. I wish to touch you, but you're so delicate. So fragile. I do not deserve to touch such a treasure.

You bat your eyes now. You're waking up. You look so peaceful but that look is soon replaced by fear. You begin to distance yourself from me on the bed. Your knees are up against your chest now. Why ? I will not hurt you.

I lean forward to calm you down. That's what I'm here for. You let out a scream and attempt to hit me with your hands. Oh no.

I have to take a step back, I can't have you injure me. 'It's okay. I will not hurt you.'

'Where the hell am I?'

'You're with me.' That's how it should be. That's how it's meant to be. Safe and sound in this little room.

'Who are you? I've never seen you before in my entire life.'

'I cannot disclose such information. For now, please, take a seat.'
I motion to the chair opposite the bed.

You walk to the chair and sit down clutching onto the handles. I wish you could trust me more. Your blonde hair covers your face now. Tears fall from your face and can see you're not happy with me. I want to change that. You deserve only the best.

I leave the room and lock it behind me. This is for your own safety. I don't trust the world out there. It's full of people that would hurt you. I won't. That's why I brought you here. To protect you. To love you.

After I leave the room I hear you banging against the door and shouting. 'LET ME OUT NOW!' Why on Earth would I do that? And why would you do such to your lovely hands? I wish you knew how safe you are with me. I will not be letting you so you going to have to continue till you fall asleep. You will eventually realize everything is okay.

I walk to the door and touch it. It's a brown wooden door. My father built it for us. My voice is soft but firm. 'I'm afraid I can't do that for you. You're safer inside.'

She bangs some more. 'Please!'

I let out a smile. 'I'll make you something to eat.' I give the door a knock as I leave. She must be hungry. Mother would be in a grumpy mood whenever she was hungry.

I begin to prepare a meal for us. I know you like spaghetti bolognaise. It was what you used to talk about at school in the cafeteria with your friends. I know that you didn't like them very much but you're too kind to ever leave them. I made sure that you do. I know how to make you happy.

We were at the same school. I was one of your schoolmates. You intrigued me. The way you were so different from everyone else. The way you ate to the way you spoke, you really captured me. I know that you don't deserve to stay there and be surrounding by people that don't love you. I will be your rescuer. I will save you and cook you meals. I'll make a spaghetti bolognaise that only chefs could dream of ever cooking. But first I need to learn how.

I don't really believe in the internet for information, I prefer good old recipe books. There's a certain authenticity paging through these books. Accidentally dropping gravy sauce on a page, it's how recipe books should look. Full of marks of the attempted meals. They show experience, trial and error. They leave memory behind.

The spaghetti does not take me long to learn and make. I'm quite excellent at learning new things. I sprinkle some cheese over the spaghetti just how you like it. I leave a moment of silence to hear if you're tired of your antics. You're done banging against the door. Good girl.

I open the door and I see you sitting on the bed. Your hands are bleeding. Poor thing. I really shouldn't let you stay alone in here. But it's for your own safety.

'I made you some dinner. Spaghetti bolognaise. On me.' I let out a laugh.

'What kind of sick fuck are you?'

Well that was vulgar. I can't say that I'm pleased to hear that.

'I'm sorry. I've made you some dinner.'

You look at my plate with complete disgust. I will not lie that hurt me a little bit. Your gaze softens though, you know this is your favourite. You reach out and take the plate. You must've been starving. I know you are. I stole you yesterday.

I look at your hands. Blood drips onto the plate. 'Would you like some bandages?'

'Y-y-yes please.' You're nervous. Don't be.

I exit the room, locking the door.
Bandages , bandages , bandages. Where does father keep them? Or mother? Surely they have to be in a first aid kit somewhere. I look in the cabinet in the bathroom and find something. Ah! Bandages. I hope that you do not hurt yourself anymore from now on. You don't deserve any pain.

I enter the room and I notice your plate. It's empty.

'I brought some bandages. May I wrap up your wounds?'

You turn away from me and let out your hands, waiting for me to bandage them.

'Why am I here? What did I do?'

You asking me too many questions. You just ate my bolognaise and you're already ungrateful. I cover your wounds, that should stop you from bleeding.

You're staring me in my eyes now. Your blue eyes are glittery and I can't ignore the blood smears on your face. You've been crying ever since.

'I love you, that's why.'

That's all you need to know. And that's all you ever need to know. I stand up eruptly and slam the door behind me.