Stolen Love

Chapter 7

7

About two weeks have gone by since I've first got here. It seems like I have fallen in to a marathon of reruns for a tv show.

Everyday it is almost the same thing. We wake up, I shower while he makes breakfast. Usually I get done showering way before he comes back. I always turn the news on.

It scares me, everyday they talk less and less about the search. They have no leads, suspects, or witnesses. The only thing they do know is that I was taken somewhere between my house and Ryan's.

The last time it showed Ryan was a couple days ago. He looked terrible, but he still talked with an urgency and a confidence that amazes me. He said he'll never stop looking. Even though Ryan won't quit, it scares me that everyone else might.

In some ways, I wish they would all give up. Mom is an emotional mess and my brothers and Dad look just as exhausted as Ryan. They look more dead then him know, only because they don't know me as well. If they quit looking, they could stop worrying. Maybe life would be close to normal for them, maybe they would smile again.

But I also have the selfish side of me. The side that hopes they'll never quit until I'm found. It's also the side that doesn't care how much pain others go through for me. And most times, that side overpowers the others.

After Chris and I eat breakfast, we watch a few movies. I plan my time out well.

I want to be out in two weeks max. Something occurred to me last night while I was falling asleep.

Chris said that he would see Danny in a month on his wedding day. Even though it doesn't really have anything to do with me, it still makes me anxious and more impatient to get out.

Every few days when Chris chooses the movie, I go to the bathroom. While is occupied, I go to the garage.

I found his flat-head screwdrivers a couple days ago. Now I just need to find the right size. I think today is the day.

Anyways, then we have lunch. After that, we talk for awhile. Then he takes me to the room while he does something I'm not sure of.

The next time I see him is when we have dinner. When we are finished with dinner, we go up to the bedroom. He goes in the bathroom for about an hour. I swear he is in there longer than me.

I pretend to read. I'm actually trying to up with different scenarios, good and bad, with a solution to any problem that could arise.

I feel almost invincible when I do this. Because I can rewind any mistakes I make to make it better. It usually ends with him knocked out somewhere.

Once he is back in the room we talk again. I think he tried to kiss me once, but I slipped past him before he could.

I won't go as far as kissing yet, I'll start that if I get desperate enough.

Finally we go to sleep, preparing to repeat the same thing the next day. I think I'm about to lose it.

Everyday, I've been playing him for a fool. He is either to dumb, or has fallen to far heads over heels in love with me to notice my reluctance at contact. I hope it's the first.

I feel my heart rate pick up a bit, we are in the last minutes of the movie "50 First Dates". If things go as planned, I will have that screw driver and be out of here by night fall.

"I have to use the restroom," I say as soon as the credits start, "Be right back."

He nods, "I'll pick the movie."

I walk to the hall at my usual pace, then push in to a slight jog as soon as I'm out of sight.

I get to the garage and silently open the door. I hold my breath until I get in, it didn't make a creak.

My movements are swift and silent, I don't have much time. I open the too drawer of the big craftsman workbench and scan all the screwdrivers.

I choose a small flathead. He'll see it in my pockets so I do the only thing I can think of, I shove down my shirt in to my bra. He won't find it there.

I straighten it out, you don't notice it. My heart is pounding loud, it almost hurts my chest.

I'm close to the door, "Morgan?" Chris calls. Crap, how long have I been. I'm about to leave when I spot a small pair of wire cutters on a table right next to me. I grab them and shove them down with my with the pliers.

I exit the room and straighten myself out. Some of my hair is hanging annoyingly in my face. I brush it behind my ear.

When I turn the corner I bump in to Chris, "I'm sorry," I say. He doesn't look convinced. I shyly add, "It's that time of the month." A complete lie, but I know he won't push it any further.

Relief and understanding washes over his face, his eyes shine, "Ok, I was worried you were trying to leave."

"We've been over this," I say with a big fake smile on my face, "I like it here."

When we start the movie, I feel a bit more relieved. But I still have a big challenge ahead of me, finding a way past Chris.