Waiting For Winter

A Plan

"Wake up."

I didn't want to. I was tired. Why couldn't he just go away already? Wasn't he supposed to go away? Those were the rules.

"Wake. Up." The covers flew off my body, and I was yanked upright. My eyes flew open to find Dean standing beside the bed. He had his hair pulled back into a small ponytail, and was wearing a black shirt and loose fit jeans. "Put some clothes on."

I scrambled to pull the covers over my body again. I was blushing furiously. Two years had passed since I was kidnapped. Since I was Taken. I was sixteen now, going on seventeen. I was still shy. Nothing had changed. "Why are you here? You're not supposed to be here."

Dean yanked the covers back off of me. He bent down quickly and lifted my body off the bed. My eyes were wide in surprise. "W-What are you--!?"

"The rules are: you do what I say. When I say it. Got that Kim?" he growled in my ear. He walked to the small dresser across from my bed and put me down. I glared at him, my face heated with embarrassment. But I did what he said. He was right after all. If I didn't follow the rules...well, there've been stories told about what happens to you.

Opening the top drawer, I found a black mini skirt tucked underneath all the other skimpy-looking skirts that were all sorts of colours. Out of red, green, dark blue, and black?--I went with the black one. Inside the second drawer were the shirts. I sighed and searched for a blue one, and I was suddenly reminded of the day my step-mom came home from a job in Paris.

"Look, sweety!" she said, her face filled with excitement, her body jumping up and down. "Isn't this just the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

I scowled. "Don't call me that." I got up from the kitchen table to get a better look. It was sky blue with black polka dots and dark blue, pin-like buttons. The rim of the collar was black, and you could literally see through the shirt. She made me try it on--which I did reluctantly--and you could see everything. I didn't like that. I wasn't like that.

"This is hideous."

Her bright, shining smile faded.

Warmth on my right shoulder. "What are you doing?"

That meant, "Are you okay?"

"Yup," I heard myself mutter. I found a shirt and pulled it over my head; slipped the skirt up my slender legs. "I thought you were someone else."

Dean leaned against the dresser and gazed at my face. Expressionless. Always expressionless. "Yeah? Who?"

"The man who was here last night," I mumbled again, with a bit of annoyance. I turned to face him and crossed my arms. "Who do you think?"

Dean smirked. "What's gotten into you? You're suddenly not that super sweet, quiet girl I've come to know." He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I didn't resist. "I want to take you somewhere, Kim. Somewhere secret."

"Somewhere secret? There isn't--"

"I know how to get past the cameras," he said, interrupting me. "We have to move fast, or he'll catch us." His expression darkened. His fingers curled into fists. I backed up a bit. He didn't sound like himself, always talking about the rules. One night, a really drunk man had his fingers gripped tightly in a girl's hair, arguing to Dean about staying the night with her. Dean had stayed calm, telling the man that Alexander forbid any man staying with the girl through the night, or a girl with the man. The drunken man had gotten angrier and had tried to punch Dean. Of course, he didn't get the chance. Dean had easily dodged the wild punch, grabbing the man's arm and forcing it behind his back while the three other men ran to help contain him. Alexander had watched the whole thing. He had cameras everywhere. Everywhere but inside the girls' rooms and around and inside the baths. If he wanted to see anything happen, all he had to do was simply walk right into the girl's room while the man was busy on top of her and sit in the corner and watch. You became very popular if that happened. Yes, there were a lot of girls here who actually liked being here. Wanted to be here--to stay here. I didn't really know how I felt about it anymore... Two years of pain and loss and sorrow... You kind of forget it all after a while. Or at least block it out.