Stockholm Syndrome

Stockholm Syndrome 9

Chapter Nine

I wake up slowly, in stages. First, I feel the tickling sensation of my hair on my face. Then the warm sun on my uncovered arm. For a moment, my mind is in that soft, comfortable limbo between sleep and wakefulness, between dreams and reality.

I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to wake fully, because it's so nice.

Then I realise I can smell pancakes cooking in the kitchen.

My lips curl in a smile. It's the weekend, and my mum decided to spoil us again. She makes pancakes on special occasions and sometimes just because.

The hair tickles me again, and I reluctantly move my arm to push it off my face.

I'm more awake now, and the warm feeling dissipates, replaced by harsh, gnawing fear.

No, please let it all be a dream. Please let it all be a bad dream.

I open my eyes.

It's not a dream. I can still smell the pancakes, but there's no way it could be my mum cooking them.

I'm on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, held captive by a man who derives pleasure from hurting me.

I stretch carefully, taking stock of my body. Other than a slight tenderness in my bottom, I seem to be mostly fine. He had only taken me once last night, for which I am grateful.

Getting up, I walk naked to the mirror and look at my back. There are faint bruises on my buttocks, but nothing major.

All in all, I seem to have survived another night in my captor's bed.

As I brush my teeth, I think back to last night. The dinner, my silly plan to seduce him, my feeling of betrayal at his actions...

I can't believe I had begun to trust him even a tiny bit. Normal men don't kidnap people from the park. They don't drug them and bring them to a private island. Men who like normal, consensual sex don't keep people captive.

No, Louis is not normal. He's a sadistic control freak, and I can never forget it. The fact that he hasn't hurt me badly yet doesn't mean anything. It's just a matter of time before he does something truly awful to me.

I need to escape before that happens, and I can't take my sweet time seducing Harry. He's far too dangerous and unpredictable.

I need to find a way off this island.

***

After I take quick shower I go downstairs for breakfast. Eleanor must've been in my room because there is a set of clothes laid out. A swimsuit, sandals, and a light grey button up shirt.

Eleanor herself is in the kitchen, and so are the pancakes I'd smelt earlier.

At my entrance, she smiles at me, yesterday's tension apparently forgotten. "Good morning," she says cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

I give her an incredulous look. Does she know what Louis did to me? "Oh, just great," I say sarcastically.

"That's good." She seems oblivious to my tone. "Louis was afraid you might be sore this morning, so he left me a special cream to give you just in case."

She does know.

"How do you live with yourself?" I ask, genuinely curious. How can she stand by and watch someone being abused like this? How can she work for this cruel man?

Instead of answering, Eleanor places a large, fluffy pancake on a plate and brings it to me. There is sliced mango on the table, right next to a bottle of maple syrup.