Pointed Gun

No History, No Secret

Syncear

IT WAS approximately thirty minutes till seven, and I was all alone. Without much to hold my time away from dying boredom. I needed something to past the time. Quietly snooping through anything I could before getting caught. I'd found a few worn books.

From fantasy fiction and romance. I'd found my liberation from monotony. I wouldn't usually vision Boston as imaginative besides when it came to planning and executing one of his plans. How sweet to know that my abductor had a soft spot for books.

With one of the fantasy fictions to past the time between my fingers and my mind elsewhere, I'd gotten nowhere. Within the earlier moments of five, Ryder took leave as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. Trying to convince me that he had other more important things to do back home, wherever that was. He probably occupied most of his time back at their HQ.

Much safer from the stupid woman that fell for two guys in one night.

Despite any of that, I knew that if it weren't for our so-called 'connection', we could've had a better night. We would talk about what interested us most or laugh about our dumbest childhood memories, because why the hell not?Or better yet, not talk about any of that at all, because that wasn't what criminals did in their spare time. They didn't reminisce about past experiences or bore their lives with hobbies besides the obvious, of course.

And yet, I didn't hold a clue of what they did for a living. And here, I judge.

Maybe he felt just as inevitably guilty and confused with the entire situation as I had. He would know better than I would what the consequences were for crossing Boston. But I knew for sure, it wouldn't end well.

I shook my head, sighing. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. But having Ryder here was nice for the company, I guess. Tempting company that I could only wish to forget, but appeared to have a terrible time.

Not engaged in the words of the novel anymore, I marked my page before tossing it aside. I flopped to my side to watch the time tick on by in meaningless loops. Seven o'clock already, and I'd accomplished more nothing. I washed away a perfectly plump thirty minutes pounding my brain with useless banter to enhance a migraine for the rest of the day.

I just love torturing myself, I see. I tossed those words around my brain hoping to slap some sense into myself.

Indulging myself in sinful pleasures. I seriously hated myself right now.

My mind soon wandered to my insanely fun best friend, and what she could possibly be doing at that very moment. I wondered if it was hard for her—or anyone that knew me—to attend work normally while watching my desk collect dust in my absences with no idea how to fix it.

It hadn't at all been long since my disappearance. A measly couple of days that dressed itself into an eternity. Sleeping and waking on someone else's schedule that wasn't my own—or in a different case, my job's—I had to adjust to a newer bullshit life.

Actually becoming someone's prisoner always impersonated itself as something far sinister than what I was going through in my mind. With Boston never actually home to ruin my life every second he could, I spent most of that time alone.

Except for his adorable pet that'd grown to like me and vice versa. Those piercing icy blue eyes and black and white coat snagging a one of a kind spot in my heart despite our differences before then.