The Kidnapper's Son

Part 1: Corner to Corner

My eyes opened into slits. The life in the room was as minimal as usual. Just me in here! Don't worry about it! 

I opened my eyes a bit more and looked around the room. It was dark but the light coming from the boarded up window peaked through, so I could see for the most part. 

I sat up and gazed around. Everything was the way it had been. The small table with the radio clock was still there and there was a stack of clothes in the corner. I pulled myself out of the mattress and checked the bathroom. A toothbrush, toothpaste, and a huge bottle of body wash in the shower. Literally a gallon of the stuff.

I sighed. Two days had passed. I was starving from no food for the past day. My stomach ached and growled at me. Shut up, I thought back lazily. It wasn't really worth it to complain. Complaining got me no where and to me, no where was where I was. But no matter what I did, I knew nothing at that point would help settle my stomach. Unless someone just walked in with ginger ale in their hand randomly.

I sat back down on my bed and sat back against the wall. My baggy shirt drooped to one shoulder and my old shorts I had been supplied with gave me a wedgie, but I didn't care. Honestly, by then, I didn't care about anything but being fed and staying alive. Being able to take a breath was most important to me. After that, trying to find the strength to think of a way out was next. Then getting out. But that could take a year for all I knew. They may never feed me ever and I could die here. But I didn't want to die here. Definitely not now.

I hugged my knees as I looked toward the door. It looked like someone had banged and banged on it, wanting to get free. I could just imagine someone begging to be set free because they were literally dying of hunger, boredom, dehydration or some disease. But that wasn't me that had beaten up the door. It was just what my mind wanted to do. But I promise you, I'm smarter than that.

After about an hour of staring at the scratched up door, I hid my head between my arms. I had stayed in the same position, holding my knees. I think my kidnapper was trying to starve me.

The door opened and a white light shone through it. I looked up after a moment and someone, a boy, was shoved into the room. 

"Dad-" said the boy.

"Go," said a deep, serious voice directed to him, then the door shut. His presence remained at the door. I looked at him. In the dim light, I could see shaggy, black hair and unforgettable green eyes. His eyes reminded me of cat's eyes, vibrant and very creepy at night time. His jawline and over-all face was attractive. By the look of his body shape, he looked a bit scrawny, but I'm sure it wasn't true. Everything about me right then was messed up.

"Who are you? Please don't hurt me," I said. Well, that wasn't like me. It especially wasn't what my mindset sounded like. I was never wimpy. But I was just weak. I'd do anything for food, even the unmentionable things that strung along in my mind briefly.

"I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt a girl," he said. His voice was gentle, but deep like the other voice. "And my name is Evan."

I slowly got up. I noticed the tray he was holding. "What did you bring me? Food?" I asked. He nodded and he flipped on the light. The artificial light spread across the bland room and his face was more clear to me. He was a handsome boy, but I had no reason to like him. Not in this situation.

He stepped closer and handed me the food. Finally. I sat back down and ate what I was given. Tasteless oatmeal and orange juice. I thought it was awkward to have him just standing there, watching me eat, but he didn't seem to mind. And surely, I didn't care.

As I ate, I noticed a note that had Cassandra written on it and that had been sitting on the tray with my food. Oh, God. Please don't tell me he's gonna kill me. I opened the slip of notebook paper and read what was written for me:

Go ahead. Talk with the boy. You never know what will happen.

-R

I looked up at Evan. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his dark wash jeans and his head down, his jet black bangs covering his eyes as he gazed down at his sneakers. His brown polo looked perfectly ironed, as if his mom had done something to it. If he had a mother. I didn't know anything about the guy except that someone that lived in the house with him had kidnapped me. "Your name is Evan, right?" I asked him. I wanted to be sure. I could get killed if I made one mistake. For all I knew.

"Yeah. And you're-"

"Cassie."

"I was gonna say Cassandra. That's what my dad told me." He was looking at me again. The green in his eyes glimmered lightly. The looked shy, but very kind

"I don't like that name."

"I think it's a nice name for a girl like you."

"Not a girl like me. Maybe for a girl who likes frilly dresses, but not one that wears scuffed up Converse," I said. "Well, wore." I looked toward the wall and shrugged. All I knew was that they had been taken away from me along with my iPod, phone, and original clothing. And I couldn't get them back. But when would I need them? It almost seemed like I was never gonna leave the house. And why the hell would I be let go?

Evan shrugged. He walked to the other side of the room and sat in the corner. "So, how's your stay been?" he said.

I looked at him. "Creepy as hell and miserable. Why am I here?" I said.

"My dad... He... I honestly don't know," he said, holding his right hand in with his left as he sat casually. "And I'm very sorry that you're miserable."

I sat on the bed, on the other corner of the room. "Tell me about yourself," he said to me.

I looked at him. If I just get to know him, he could be my ticket home. Hey, I'd eaten. Now was the time to devise an escape. I shrugged. "Depends on what you want to know."

He shrugged back. "Anything," he said. He seemed to make a lot of eye contact with me. "Father's orders." His father seemed very demanding. But what was he trying to do, set us up? And if he was, he kidnapped the girl he wanted to set his son up with. That is disturbing.

I sighed. "Well, first, I was happy," I said. "Not until, I was forced here."

He continued to look at me, his cat-like eyes staring deep into my own. Evan really was a good-looking guy. And I had his full attention. But the sad thing was was that I had no idea were to begin. Where could I even think to start?