Stolen Love

9*

I wake up in the bed next to Chris. I'm slightly confused at first since the last thing I remember is falling asleep in the car during our long trip back. He must've carried me in here, I realize, which leaves me with a very unsettled feeling in my stomach.

Talk about being a heavy sleeper.

I'm still wearing the beautiful dress that I've learned to hate so at least he didn't try to change me or something. That gives me some relief and saves my dignity. Chris is still snoring quietly beside me. I carefully unwrap his arm from me and slowly sit up from the bed. Judging by the light streaming through the window, it is early in the morning which means I should have some alone time while Chris sleeps in.

I find my crutches are right next to the bed, so I grab them and walk to the bathroom, careful to keep the clack of my crutches silent. When I get in there, I lock the door and turn the shower on.

While the water is steaming up the mirrors, I look at the ring. My wedding ring. I used to always think I would feel a great sense of pride and joy when I would look at something so special, but now I just feel... nothing. It looks so wrong on me. It's too big and flashy. I've always liked the simpler things in life, so having such a big rock on my finger is quite uncomfortable. Plus I just don't want it. Many girls would love this, but I hate it.

I take it off my finger and carelessly toss it in the sink. It makes a scratching noise, and a part of me almost hopes that I damaged it in some way. It could fall down the drain for all I care.

I quickly shower and get dressed in to a pair of yoga pants and a graphic t-shirt. So much more comfy than a dress. I put my wet hair in to a tail and, reluctantly put the ring back on since Chris would probably herniate a disk if he saw me without it.

Hmm, not such a bad image, I laugh evilly to myself.

Chris is happily waiting outside the door for me when I'm done. He must've showered last night since he's already changed and his hair is back to being messy. "Good morning beautiful," he says bending down to kiss me.

I turn my head away, dodging his advances. Last night has changed nothing between us. "I'm hungry," I say bluntly. I look at him blankly, emotionless, as if I don't care about anything.

I'm guessing that wasn't the reaction he wanted because he slowly says, "Ok. What do you want?" I can tell he is more shocked than anything right now, but he is still trying to stay calm.

"Something quick and good, like cereal. Bring it up here when you are done," I say dismissively, not really looking at him.

"I'll be right back."

"Take your time," I mumble. He just looks at me then leaves.

So last night, I figured out the being nice approach isn't working. Look where it landed me: no closer to getting out and a huge ring on my finger.

So many it's time I act like I'm heartless.

Forget about earning his trust. I'm breaking out of here on my own. If he happens to be stupid enough to let me slip away so be it. I will be out of here before I am married.

Last night in the car, he was talking about a spring wedding in the meadow. I kept thinking about the dream. It's always in a meadow.

Maybe if I act the way I really feel, he'll get tired of me. Call the wedding off and let me go, if I'm lucky. That's what I'm hoping for, but let's be realistic here: I'm not lucky.

I'm sitting on the bed and staring at the ground when he returns. He brings a bowl of frosted mini wheats for me. I don't give him as much as a thank you. I can tell he is feeling unsure since he stands in the corner and eats a cereal bar.

Almost instantly, I can see the affects of my plan playing out.

Once we are finished with breakfast, he asks, "Want to watch a movie?"

"No," I answer blandly. I continue to look at the floor as if it is more interesting than him.

"Ok, so what do you want to do?" He asks getting annoyed.

I fight to hide a smile of triumph.

"Relax up here." I say while laying back on the bed. My mind is full of so many ways to get under his skin. He starts walking over to me. Just before he sits down, I add, "alone."

He lays down anyways and says, "That's not happening."

I figured he wouldn't listen, but I still had to try. I sigh and give my back to him. "What's wrong?" He asks. I don't answer. I keep my body still, acting as if I have do little interest in him that I didn't hear a word he said. "Morgan, answer me." His voice is cold and dark.

Not wanting to make him mad enough to the point that he hurts me, I know have to answer. I turn and look him straight in the eye. Somehow, I manage to keep my voice even when I say, "Everything is."

He looks taken back for a moment. "What are you talking about, Sweetie-"

"Don't call me that," I hiss.

His eyes darken, and a small smirk forms on his lips, "Ok, what's wrong then, Baby?" He asks innocently, emphasizing the word baby.

I glare at him, my hands tightening in to fists. "You know what I'm talking about," I fake innocence just like he did. I make my eyes big and voice softer, "Things like being engaged to my kidnapper."

His face loses all innocence and turns dark again. I mirror him. We glare at each other for a while, and he is the one to look away first letting me know that I have the upper hand.

I break the silence. "You know, I used to think your eyes were pretty," I whisper. His whole face seems to light up. He slowly takes my hand. The hope in his eyes disgusts me. "They reminded me of the Caribbean, so clear and blue."

It's time to extinguish the light in them.

I shake my head and snarl, "But now it feels like I'm trapped in the middle of them. I look all around me and I see the safety of islands and boats full of people who could save me, but no one sees me, and I'm stuck waiting to drown or for a fate much worse. Now I know how looks can be so deceiving." I don't have to raise my voice. Sometimes being calm and confident, is better than being scared and angry.

I don't look away from his eyes, even as they narrow and his grip on my hand tightens so much it hurts. His nails start to slowly dig in. The bulky ring starts to press in to my skin. I fight against the pain.

Finally it gets too much for me, a short gasp escapes my mouth. His whole expression changes.

His hand shoots out of mine like I just burnt him. Regret washes over his face but then he replaces it with anger. "Why are you acting like you hate me?" he asks quietly.

"Who says I'm acting?" I ask just as quiet.

His eyes turn watery and he looks away quickly. "I don't understand you sometimes," his voice cracks.

He turns around and takes long strides out of the room. The door slams followed by the click of lock.

I don't understand myself sometimes either, like right now. I wanted to hurt him, to be heartless like I was.

However, there is a pang in my heart. Why do I feel so guilty? It feels like my heart broke saying that to him. I was supposed to break his, but he will get over it. Knowing him, he will and say that I'm just confused.

Maybe I am confused. I'm an emotional mess, too. Yes that explains it all, but I'm still not convinced.

I should be happy I upset him like he's upset me so many times.

Tears start falling down my face, though, and I can't get them to stop. What is wrong with me?