Stockholm Syndrome

3. 5 Things About You

I woke up at 10 a.m. that morning, getting 7 hours of sleep, the most sleep I've gotten in a few days. I noticed that J wasn't by my side this time. But what I did find on his side of the bed was a sticky note on his pillow. I yawned, pick it up, and read it.

Emily, I went out to run an errand. I will be back shortly. Do not leave or you will regret it, I swear. Signed, J.

Would he be mad if I just went outside? Hell, we're in the middle of nowhere. So, as my thoughts went on, I went outside. I sat on the steps that led into the house and I hugged my knees, it feels nice to have some fresh air. All I want to know is why I'm here and why he's keeping me here. I want to see my family and friends again, I miss them. I hope they're okay, I hope my friends are okay. They're probably worried sick. I hope they didn't get kidnapped like me. I let a tear fall down my cheek. "It seems like I've been here for days," I whispered to myself, "let me go." I closed my eyes tight hoping that this was all a dream. I then heard a car pull in, my head went up as I saw the black car park. I heard the car door open and then close while I heard bags shuffling into someone's hands. "What are you doing outside?" J asked revealing himself getting out of the car and holding the bags. "I just needed some air," I explained as I got up. He dropped the bags and came towards me. I got scared, I backed up into the door. "Don't you EVER," he started, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and pinning me against the door while my feet lifted off of the ground. He continued, "step foot outside of this house. Do you understand!? Don't you ever come outside unless I say you can!" He was furious with me, his breathing was uneven. His eyes turn into a black color when he's angry and his cheeks flush slightly red because of his light skin tone. "Go inside," he let me go and I did as he said quickly. I sat on the couch watching him bring bags of groceries into his home. He then closed the door, but about 5 minutes after closing the door, there was a loud pounding sound of someone knocking. "Police! Open up!" they yelled. Finally! someone is going to find me and bring me back home! I rushed to open the door... but J grabbed my wrists tight. I could already feel the marks forming. "Go hide in that closet." He demanded letting go of me. "But-" I started, "I said, go hide in the damn closet!" He whisper-yelled and threw me in there. He closed it. The closet had a small crack in it so I could see what was going on. "Have you seen this girl? She is 18 years of age," the police asked J and showed him a picture of me. That's me! I'm finally going to be found! "No, sir I have not. What's her name?" J asked. Did he really just deny that!? "Emily Miller," the police replied with my name. "No, sir, haven't seen her. But I will notify you if I do," J nodded as if he had never kidnapped me. "Thank you, sir," the police then drove off in their car. I covered my face and let the tears fall. The closet door opened, "you can get out now." J let me out of the closet. I said nothing to him and sat on the couch, hugging my kegs with my face dug into my knees. I cried and cried. J left to shower and came down a few minutes later but I was still crying. J sighed and sat on the opposite side of me. "Why are you crying now?" he asked annoyed with my crying. "They almost found me," I whispered between tears "I know, that was close," he said relieved. "I know! I want to go home J! You're mean, you kidnapped me! I don't like it here! I was almost found and I was so close!" I was the one to yell at him this time. I got up and rushed up to his room while he chased after me, this isn't good. I went to slam the door but he was to quick for me, he stopped the door from slamming. Great. He then slammed me against the wall, just liked he slammed me against the door 10 minutes ago. "YOU don't talk to ME like that. Do I need to punish you for you to understand?" This is my time to actually tell him off, but I'd rather stay alive. "Well I-" I started, but he has a bad habit of interrupting my sentences. "Don't talk back to me," he slammed me against the wall once and let me go, then he walked down the stairs. He hurt my back, he's strong. This is the first time he actually hurt me. I stayed in the room for the rest of the night. I didn't come down for food or anything. He only told me once to come down but he understood I was upset with him and that's why I didn't come down. He came up to the room at about 7 o'clock in the evening. "Do you realize how nice I've been to you? I suggest you drop this attitude you're having." He starting telling me. "Nice? Nice!? No, you're not nice!" I started to raise my my voice at him. "Do you know what any other person would have done to you? They would have raped you, or killed you by now. They wouldn't give you food or water, barely even any shelter. They would keep you locked up in a bloody cold basement and let you die!" He explained the worse to me. "You should be thankful you have me," he finished saying. That is true, he's probably the nicest kidnapper out there. "Okay," I was sort of speechless. "Then why are you so nice to me?" I asked. "Because I'm not like the others, Emily Miller," he replied using my full name. "Why, out of all the girls in that club, why me?" I didn't want to argue but I was desperate to know why. Did he grab me by accident? "Because I thought you were attractive, dammit! Stop arguing with me before I actually do something bad to you!" He yelled at me. HE thought I was attractive? "You think I'm attractive?" I questioned disbelievingly. "Yeah, but not with this attitude you're having," he rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm 18 and you're 21, it's not going to work, so please just let me go," I tried to make him agree with me. "Hey, I said you were attractive. I didn't say I wanted to get with you." He explaining to me. My cheeks got red from embarrassment for actually thinking he wanted to date or something. Even though I would have said no because of the way he's treated me. "I wouldn't try to get with you, the police would kill me... literally." What did he mean by that? "What do you mean?" I asked. "Nothing. Why are you always trying to find stuff out about me?" He asked curiously. "I don't know. Trying to get to know you, trying to distract you from being so mean, although it doesn't help because even in your answers you have attitude," I snapped at him. "Well, so do you," he snapped back. Touche. I rolled my eyes. He then denied to me that he was rude, even though he is. I sighed, "Look, I'll ask 5 questions for you, and you ask 5 questions for me. Deal?" I suggested. "I guess," J shrugged his shoulders.