Stockholm Syndrome

70: Now There' s Blood

70: Now There's Blood

I really wish I could just go back to last night. Last night when we fell asleep together to Twenty One Pilots. Last night when everything in my world wasn't spinning upside down.

I plopped onto the couch for a forty five minute show and by the end I was ready to start the day. After one more episode. Ok, so I watched three episodes and then I drank a cup of coffee and was ready to go. I should not have drank that coffee because my hand was shaking from the caffeine.

I asked Luke if he was alright with me doing some exploring around the house. Noticing that I didn't really know too much about the nooks and crannies of the house, I wanted to change it. Luke said it would probably be fine.

"Just stay out of my closet, I don't want you stealing anymore of my shirts." He finished playfully, peering up from his book. He was sitting on the red chair in his bedroom, glasses on, looking way too official and reading a book with a big tree on the cover.

Where to start? Where to start? I walked down the stairs and took a left. First there was a piano. Of course I'd seen that before. I'd had Luke play for me before.

Then I went into the lounge, noticing my purse that Luke had stashed in here a while back. He had told me about it and let me know I could take it. I had only used it to google Stockholm Syndrome and that was it. Using it more than that scared me. It made me feel way too connected to my old life.

 I opened up a drawer and found three books of photo albums. I flipped through the first one. There were plenty of pictures of Luke with who I assumed was his ex. There were a couple pictures of him with his mom and a few pages dedicated to places he had traveled.

Then, the second one, I wish I had never opened it. I wish I had set it back in the drawer, closed everything, and walked out of that room.

 But, no. I flipped through some blank pages until I landed on a picture of my dad. My dad. I had to do a double take, make sure it was actually him.

For a while I tried to convince myself it wasn't him. But it was. I was focusing so hard on convincing myself of something not true, that I didn't realize I was biting my lip.

Now there's blood.

 I tentatively flipped the next page. More of my dad. But the rest of the book – probably seven pages – were all of me. Some had my dad with me. There was a scarce amount of my mom. But so many of me from over the years that there was no getting over the fact that he had stalked me for a lot longer than two months before he kidnapped me.