Fear

24 • Opening Up

A few days had passed since the argument, and the atmosphere between Tyler and I had shifted. The tension was still there, but it was less palpable, replaced by an uneasy truce that made mealtimes a little more bearable. We hadn't talked about what had happened, but there was an unspoken understanding that something had changed.

I wandered into the bedroom one afternoon, my mind preoccupied with some random thought I can't quite remember. As I approached, I heard Tyler's voice, low and almost desperate. I paused just outside the door, listening. He seemed to be talking to himself.

"I've said I'm sorry, Lucy. I should have protected you..."

His voice trailed off, and my heart pounded in my chest. Who was Lucy? I'd never heard him mention her before. I pushed the door open gently, catching the last of his whispered words.

Tyler looked up, his expression one of surprise and then immediate guardedness. The vulnerability I had heard in his voice vanished, replaced by his usual stoic mask. He stiffened as I walked into the room.

"Ty?" I said softly, approaching him. He didn't respond, his eyes following me warily. I chose not to ask about what I'd overheard, though the name lingered in my mind. Instead, I sat next to him on the bed. I don't think he knew that I'd eavesdropped, and didn't say anything.

He tensed as I moved closer, his body language screaming discomfort. Ignoring his unease, I took his hand in mine. For a moment, he let me, his hand ice cold. I looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of the man behind the mask.

After a minute, Tyler let go of my hand and looked away, breaking the eye contact. I sighed, exasperated but determined.

"Ty, please. We can't keep going on like this. You need to open up to me."

He remained silent, his expression sad and distant. The silence was deafening. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough.

"I don't think you'd understand... I thought self-punishment was the way to cure myself, but it's only made me worse. Then you came along."

"Ty... if being around me is such torture for you, why are you doing it to yourself?" I asked, my voice soft but insistent.

"Because I've realised that punishing myself wasn't my Act... You're my Act. You're supposed to be my cure..."

He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat. I didn't know what to say, so I placed my hand on his back and let him sob quietly into his hands.

When I first got into this mess, I would've never thought that I'd see my kidnapper cry in front of me, let alone fall in love with me, but it seemed like that was what was happening.

If I was completely honest with myself... I was falling too. He was becoming more than just the man who had kidnapped and tortured me for months. It crossed my mind that perhaps I had Stockholm Syndrome.

After what felt like an eternity, he lowered his hands and looked at me, his eyes stained with tears. "I don't know how to be around you, Emily... I'm scared."

The pain in his whispered confession made me ache in a way I didn't know how to describe. Was it just sympathy? Or did I really feel for him? I wasn't entirely sure of the answer. But for now, all I could do was comfort him, knowing it would help.

"I know," I whispered, trying my best to reassure him, "and that's okay. We'll figure it out together... no matter how much it hurts."

His confession was raw, and I found myself struggling to process his words. The man who had seemed so invincible, so in control, was now baring his soul to me. It was a side of him I'd never seen, or even expected to see.