Life in captivity

1.  Life in Captivity

BELLE

I woke up before Grayson did, and I had no clue what to do. I could feel his breath against the back of my neck, slow and steady. I thought of my mom and wondered if she was worried after I hadn’t shown up at her apartment last night.  Maybe she would call the police and they’d come looking for me. 

But there was a large chance that she hadn’t even noticed I wasn’t there—or just assumed that I hadn’t come out of anger. That sounded like something I would do. 

So it would be smart not to rely on her trying to find me. 

I was on my own. I had to find my way out of here. But how? 

I could try to run away again, but the memory of the pain that I’d experienced earlier this morning went through my mind. There was no way I was doing that again. 

So I had some options: I could completely give up—just lie there and wait for Grayson to wake up, and let him have his way with me. 

Why does that sound like a good option? 

I could wait for Grayson to wake up, then pretend to still be asleep till he hopefully left the room, then try to find my way out. 

I could act sweet and like I trusted him, and then pull a sneak attack and try to knock him out with a lamp or something, and then run away. 

I could be really, horribly mean to him and hope that he got sick of me and kicked me to the curb. That could work, right?   

I could hope that my mom actually did care about my absence enough to call the police. 

It’s unlikely but it could happen. 

It suddenly occurred to me that it was Christmas Eve. I was supposed to be with my family celebrating Christmas in Paris, enjoying life for the first time since my dad had died. 

My dad. God I missed him. 

If I had known last year that it was the last Christmas that I would spend with him, I wouldn’t have taken it for granted. We’d always had the best Christmases together.  Since I wasn’t in touch with any of my grandparents on either side of my family, it had always been just the two of us. We would watch Christmas movies and eat until we couldn’t eat anymore. We’d exchange presents, sing Christmas carols, decorate the tree, and enjoy each other’s company. 

It had always been my favorite day of the year: no worries, just me and my dad on Christmas. 

I felt tears well up in my eyes and I sniffled, trying to get them to stop. 

Now was not the time to feel sorry for myself. I had to figure out how to get out of this hotel suite, which was starting to feel more like a prison. I didn’t even care about seeing my mom for Christmas anymore, I just wanted to go home. 

I have a life to live! 

Yes, my dad was dead. And that was unbelievably devastating, and I missed him every single day. But just because he was dead didn’t mean that I was. 

I was alive. 

And there was no longer anything stopping me from living. I no longer had anyone to take care of besides myself. 

I could go to college. I could make friends. 

I could go out dancing and drinking at bars and meet boys and make bad decisions and get a new apartment and a cat and a fancy job. There was nothing stopping me. 

Okay, so there was one thing stopping me. And that thing was breathing on my neck and had its arms wrapped around me and was unbelievably good-looking. 

That thing was the huge man behind me who had kidnapped me and claimed that I now belonged to him. 

God, what’s wrong with me? 

I thought about last night and how I had basically just let Grayson do whatever he wanted with me. I had just fallen into his arms and given up. 

I had spent too much of my life giving up, feeling powerless and alone, letting life just have its horrible way with me. No more.  I was going to live my life.  

And nothing and nobody would stop me. 

I felt Grayson move behind me. Oh God, he’s waking up.   

I immediately closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. Hopefully he would just leave and I could jump out the window or something. 

It was time to leave.