Stockholm Syndrome

11/28 19:18

Today would've been Thanksgiving. I don't know what to be thankful for. I want to be with my family. Sitting around the table with my wonderful relatives and eating roast turkey. I know we aren't the most perfect group of cousins, aunts, and uncles due to the many dramatic spats we've had time to time. But, they're mine; I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. The door opening interrupted my daydream.

"Get up," his spoke softly, but firmly.

I stood up as he instructed. I knew too well that I wouldn't be leaving that room for a while if I tried anything. I needed to get out.

He moved his tall body towards my smaller self and handcuffed my hands together. He smiled awkwardly and led me out of my cell. I was in a basement, just as I thought. Bright furniture filled up the room as it accented the colorful decorations. My bare feet treaded smoothly against the surprisingly comfortable carpet. I was brought to a small, wooden dinner table. It draped with a white lace tablecloth and food rested on top. You could tell he actually tried to make me feel comfortable, in a sort of weird "Beauty and the Beast" kind of way.

"I know how much you love Thanksgiving." He smiled setting me down in my chair. I didn't reply. "Do you want some turkey?" He asked.

I shrugged and he proceeded to serve me food. The aroma of the mashed potatoes, gravy and corn filled my nostrils. I felt like drooling. I can't be impulsive; my head needs to be held high, not in a plate of a delicious looking, gourmet meal. After sitting down at the other side of the table, he started on his meal.

"Are you going to eat?" He asked with a mouth full of mashed potatoes.

I looked up at him, at the food, then back at him. "I want to use my question of the day," I stared blankly.

"Ok what is it," he sighed. The clanking of his silverwear hitting the china plate echoed through the silent room.

"What am I doing here?"

"I love you. And I want you to be safe."

"How? I only met you once out there!" I exclaimed, pointing to the roof, "And I-"

"You promised you would eat." He stated. I snarled and rolled my eyes.

I picked up the plastic fork and knife and ate the turkey that was in front of me. It had been so long since I had a meal like this. We didn't say a word while we ate. I don't know what made me more emotional; the juicy ham and turkey, or the fact I'm in a goddamn basement with a possible psychopath, and not my family, eating the juicy ham and turkey.

"I'm glad you liked it Scarlett," he smiled with his mouth full of potatoes again, "I cooked it myself."

I looked up to meet his gaze. I felt helpless; tears started to flood my eyes. "Stop looking at me like that," his voice cracked. I looked down. I put my shackled hands to my face and started to sob.

"Don't cry please," he stood up, knelt, and put his hand on my back. His palm rubbed circles, "Please." My cries became worse. I don't know what to feel.

"I want to see my family,"I choked out through my sharp breaths. "I just want to see my family."