Mr. Good Bad Guy

57 - Stockholm

Weeks passed. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought it had only been a few days. The hours were ticking away slowly as if they knew I didn't want to be here. They dragged on as if each second was a century, but I learned to cope. I learned to accept my fate and make the best of it.

After resting as much as the doctors were telling me to, I was finally able to roam around the house more. My ribs were fine and my arm had only been dislocated. My stitches were taken out and daily exercise helped with the pain in my side. I found myself sitting by the pool more often, watching the trees sway gently in the breeze and listening to the birds chirping. It was a peaceful escape from the hustle and bustle of the house, and I found myself appreciating the simple things in life.

More of the guards grew more lax, more comfortable with my presence. They no longer kept their distance, no longer treated me like I was a prisoner. They began to see me as one of them, someone who belonged here. It was a strange feeling, being accepted by those who had no choice but to be here was comforting. And I had more people to complain to, so that was a plus.

Though I wasn't close enough to them to know their real names, it was fun giving them nicknames that suited their personalities. I think they liked them, even though they kept saying I was making them sound like villains. But that's the thing, they were villains. They were people doing their jobs, trying to make the best of a bad situation. Just a soft definition of a villain.

Like Big Mac. He was a foodie. No one could tell by his small frame or his gruff voice, but the man had an appreciation for fine cuisine. When Ezra wasn't around, he would always make sure the kitchen was stocked with the best ingredients. He was the only one who would ever talk to me about food, and I think that's why I liked him the most.

Then there was Sherlock. He was a nosey motherfucker. Always asking questions, always trying to dig up dirt on people. I think he saw himself as some sort of detective, like he was in some stupid TV show. But I had to admit, he kept things interesting. He was the one who told me about the betting ring that went on between the guards, about who would be the first to make Ezra mad, and how long it would take for him to get back at them. Something I found daring and quite dangerous.

And my favorite, Panda. The guy was the nicest person you could ever meet. Always had a smile on his face, always tried to make people laugh. I think that's why Ezra seemed to hate him so much. He was too nice, too cheerful. Panda was the one who told me about the guards' secret poker games, and how much money they would bet on them. He said it was just for fun, but I could tell it meant more to him than that.

When I wasn't around Jovani, or the other women, I made myself their business. If I wanted something fun to do, I'd find one of them and have them treat me like royalty. It was fun as long as they allowed me to be so commanding. I think when Ezra saw that I was getting comfortable, he started to turn into the guy I'd fallen in love with. In the back of my mind, I knew I still loved him. I just didn't want to get caught up in whatever games he wanted to play.

"Parker was sick some time ago," Ezra said, coming to the edge of the pool. He stared at me expectantly. As if he was waiting for me to react.

I raised an eyebrow, pretending not to care. "You're telling me this because..."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just didn't want you to worry about her. It was nothing serious. She's missing you and Axel, but I can't let you go. As much as it pained me to see her like that..."

I studied Ezra's face, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed genuinely remorseful, but I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. If he was just playing some sort of mind game with me. I wanted to trust him, but I couldn't help but be cautious.