Stockholm Syndrome

Stockholm Syndrome 7

Chapter 7

This time, Louis is supposed to join me for dinner. Eleanor sets a table for us downstairs and prepares a meal of local fish, rice, beans, and plantains. It's her Caribbean recipe, she tells me proudly.

"Are you having dinner with us?" I ask, watching as she carries the plates over to the table.

I still can't believe they're letting me walk around the house freely. There are knives in the kitchen. I could steal one and use it on Eleanor at any point. I'm tempted, even though my stomach churns at the thought of blood and violence.

Perhaps I'll do it soon, once I've had a chance to learn a bit more about this place.

I'm learning something interesting about myself. I apparently don't believe in grand, but pointless gestures. A cool, rational voice inside me tells me that I need a plan, a way to get off the island before I try anything. Attacking Eleanor right now would be stupid. It could result in my being locked up or worse.

No, this is much better. Let them think I'm harmless. I stand a much greater chance of escape that way.

For the past hour, I've been sitting in the kitchen, watching Eleanor prepare food. She's very good, very efficient. Spending time with her is distracting me from thoughts of Louis and the night to come.

"No," she says, answering my question. "I'll be in my room. Louis wants some alone time with you."

"Why? Does he think we're dating or something?"

She grins. "Louis doesn't date."

"No kidding." My tone is beyond sarcastic. "Why date when you can kidnap and rape instead?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Eleanor says sharply. "Do you really think he has to force women? Even you can't be that naive."

I stare at her. "You mean to tell me he doesn't make a habit of stealing men and bringing them here?"

Eleanor shakes her head. "You're the only person besides me who has ever been here. This island is Louis private sanctuary. Nobody knows it even exists."

A chill runs down my spine at those words. "So why am I so lucky?" I ask slowly, my pulse picking up. "What makes me worthy of this great honor?"

She smiles. "You'll find out someday. Louis will tell you when he wants you to know."

I'm sick of all this 'someday' bullshit, but I know she's too loyal to my captor to tell me anything. So I try to learn something else instead. "What did you mean when you said you owe him your life?"

Her smile fades and her expression hardens, her face settling into harsh, bitter lines. "That's none of your business, little boy."

And for the next ten minutes while she's finishing setting the table, she doesn't speak to me at all.

* * *

After everything is ready, she leaves me alone in the dining room to wait for Louis. I'm both nervous and excited. For the first time, I'm going to have a chance to interact with my captor outside the bedroom.

I have to admit to a kind of sick fascination with him. He frightens me, yet I'm unbearably curious about him. Who is he? What does he want from me? Why did he choose me to be his victim?

A minute later, he walks into the room. I'm sitting at the table, looking out the window. Before I even see him, I feel his presence. The atmosphere turns electric, heavy with expectation.