Captivated

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

I sit at the dinner table staring at Tori. She's wearing a ruby red velvet dress; the same one I'm wearing, except mine is blue. Dane has spent the last two hours prepping for this dinner, and now he sits at the head of the table smiling over all of us like a king. In front of us lies an extravagant layout that he has prepared. A giant dead bird in the centre surrounded by mashed potatoes, gravy, roasted vegetables, cranberry sauce, stuffing, yorkshire pudding, and pumpkin pie. I almost didn't believe it was for us at first. I thought this was Dane's way of taunting us. But when he came around and began serving food onto our plates, I realized he was serious: he actually made all of this food for us.

See, that's the thing that confuses me about Dane Donavon. He's this deeply scarred, psychopathic man who kidnaps girls and keeps them locked in his basement, while he simultaneously dresses them up, feeds them dinner, and makes sure that they are okay. Talk about a paradox. I've only seen Dane get angry twice since being here. The first was when I accused him of killing his wife, Charlotte. The second was only a week later when he caught Avery with the note. And with the way I speak to him sometimes – I'm surprised he hasn't snapped and killed me yet. I guess I've been fortunate. I mean, I wouldn't choose to be kidnapped, but if I had to pick a man to hold me captive, I guess I would be better off with Dane.

"How are you liking everything?" he asks to Tori and I.
"Good. It's all really good," I say with my mouth partially full.
"Yeah," Tori says. "The turkey is really well done. And the potatoes are so soft and fluffy."
"Why thank you, Victoria. I worked really hard on all of this. I'm glad you appreciate it."

I laugh to myself at how absurd this all is. Is Dane really that lonely that he has to force girls to sit with him and enjoy his dinner? Could he not find anybody else to do that voluntarily? His own son won't even look at him at times. I'm not surprised he couldn't find many other companions.

I steal a side glance at Avery, letting my eyes linger longer than they should. He's sitting two seats down from me cutting his food. I look back down at my own plate before he can catch me watching him. I think about earlier. How his mouth was on mine, his hands in my hair, our bodies intertwined. How I let myself become so vulnerable to him. I wonder if he's thinking about me. I sink my fork into the mashed potatoes, and just as I'm placing the spoon in my mouth, I feel his eyes on me, burning into me like coal on a fire. I shift my eyes sideways to return the gaze, but it's gone. He's facing down, no longer looking at me.

I have so many questions bouncing around my head that I could ask Dane. Like why is he doing all of this for us if he just plans on killing us? Or if he's heard the radio and knows that they're looking for me in the wrong areas. I have a feeling he's the type of predator that likes to play with his food before he eats it. Maybe he's the one responsible for the Oregon lead. I wonder if his coworkers ever talk about it: the kidnapped girls all across the state. I wonder if he feels guilty. I wonder if he gets nervous. Does he ever feel paranoid when he walks to his car at night? Does he check behind his shoulder to see if anyone's following him? I guess people like Dane don't feel fear – they only inflict it on others.

I could ask Avery some questions as well. Like if he's changed his mind about aiding in my escape since our last encounter. Or if he's ever kept awake at night with the thought of me. Or if he still blames Dane for his mother's death. Some things I can ask Avery in a game of 20Q. Other's – not so much. Some things are better left in the dark, where they belong.

Dane asks us if we want pie and Tori says she'd love some. I agree to a little piece and even Avery enjoys some as well. Dane tells us how happy he is to have us – his new family – here with him at Christmas time. He goes on for a while about the joy of the holiday's and how no one should ever have to spend it alone. I guess I can see what other people see in him. The people who don't know him. He's nice – charming even. I understand how he goes unnoticed in society. He blends in perfectly. And I even see a slight side of him that perhaps Charlotte fell in love. He hasn't been this horrible forever. I try to remind myself of that.