Show Me What Home Is

Chapter Three: Roses and Thorns

Chapter Three: Roses and Thorns

A/N: if the chapter suddenly comes to an odd stop please let me know.

Jennifer's POV:

I sit on the couch, staring blankly at the T.V. that isn't even on.

Not but an hour ago, Michael told me he had work to take care of. The disturbing part: he kissed me on the cheek and said "I'll be home to you soon, Love". That's something a husband lovingly does to his wife, not a psychotic, delusional man does to a woman he kidnapped and nearly killed.

I had already developed bruises on my throat, shaped perfectly to the size of Michael's hand. At the time, he scared me... but my father has done much worse. Mentally, emotionally, I'm a damn strong brick wall. I just have to find a way out of this house.

All Carly could do is report me missing. My boyfriend, Shane, won't even realize I'm missing until Carly calls him. That's my fault though, I've ignored him for over a week before, he won't recognize the difference. And my parents, I can forget that for sure.

For now, my biggest problem is that Michael has one of his rent-a-thugs constantly watching me, making sure I don't make any moves.

My most faithful plan is to study Michael's routine, his behavior, the routine of the guards. I also have to be careful not to trigger Michael, which will be hard. I'm not even close to fully understanding his intentions or his thought process.

My thoughts are interrupted, "You've been instructed to eat, it's 1:00PM," says the rent-a-thug from the corner.

"What?"

"Master Rolland has instructed me to ensure you eat lunch every day." He says with a blank face.

Master Rolland? What the hell?

The black man just stands there, waiting on me. He's in a military stance: feet apart, arms behind his back. I think he's the same one I called a big ass moose this morning.

Wait, so his name is Michael Rolland?

"Now," he demands, "please."

I stand and walk to the kitchen, seeing a fairly large salad waiting for me at the dining table, fully prepared.

The rent-a-thug followed me, still watching, quiet as a mouse. I never saw him go into the kitchen, so there is definitely more than one of him.

I sit down and begin mixing the cup of ranch into my salad.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Call me One." He responds.

"What, does Michael have you all numbered or something?" I ask, scoffing at the end.

He takes a seat at the end of the black wooden dining table next to me, but remains silent.

I'm right.

"Why are you working for him? Do you not see what he does?" I ask with a slightly bitter tone, taking a bite of my salad.

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"What? You watch women get beaten to get a paycheck? He must pay you hella well. I mean, look at this house." I scoff at him in disgust.

That's when I see the first emotion he's ever given wash over his face: guilt.

He's got a sense of emotion, could he be my way out of here?

I finish my salad and I'm confused when One extends a beautiful, florescent red rose to me.