"How do you feel about the man who kidnapped you?" my therapist asks.

"How would you feel if a man had kidnapped you?"

"Well, the mention of his name would disturb me, and I would like someone to talk to- would you like that?" my therapist says, trying to hide his annoyance behind fake concern.

I push my glasses up my nose, that, mind you, I only wore for aesthetics, before i jotting down incoherent words on a notepad.

"Hmm... interesting. This isn't about me though, this is about you and YOUR feelings. It is best that a patient expresses all their feelings to know how they truly feel," I say in a mocking tone the words he tells me each and every session.

I Promise I'm not always this much of a bitch to him but honestly how many times can you ask a person to "express themselves" ? It just doesn't work especially after what happened.

He sighs, "What about the dreams you experience every night? What do they mean to you?"

"What about your dreams? What do they mean?"

"I... well, I'm not sure, but we should focus on you and your issues. Your withdrawals have been much more frequent during the past few weeks," he says rubbing his temples.

"Marybelle, maybe this could help you more than what we've tried before. The only way for that to happen is if you listen to the doctor," my dad says in a slow and very condescending, might I add, voice. " We might be able to...,"

"To what dad? Fix me? I highly doubt that's even remotely possible. To be completely honest, i don't really think there's anything that needs to be fixed. I've come to like this dark version of myself." I say almost chuckling to myself.

"No, that's not what I meant. I... ugh," my dad says in a defeated tone. "What has gotten into you? You never used to be like this..."

"Maybe it's these meds Dr. PopnCry likes to stuff me with," i mumble before looking down.

I knew my attitude is all over the place but something about being in this room closed in so tight made my skin crawl. I knew it was probably making my dad worse. Over the last few weeks, he gained a nervous tic of massaging the new wrinkles that form on his face. On a normal day, I enjoy making fun of him for his tics, but this was something that made him self-conscious. He'd never had wrinkles when my mother was around-- only once she passed did the youth slip from his face. When they were together it was like time had froze and they stayed the way they were when they met..

"No. Dad, I told you, I don't need a therapist. I--I can handle this okay?"

"Usually denial is the first stage of healing," the doctor says as he pushed his glasses up further on his face.

This is why I can never take this man seriously. How am I supposed to believe you are a well renowned therapist when you don't even know when it's not ok to speak?

Four-hundred and thirty days and six hours since the person saved me from Gus, my kidnapper. Three hundred and sixty two days since I started intense therapy. One hundred eighty-two days and twelve hours since I was allowed to leave the hospital. Ten hours since my last nightmare. Two hours since I saw the person.

It seems like it will never end.

"Marybelle," the therapist says in a soft voice, "even if it is only one small detail you tell me about your capturing, we can learn to grow and trust each other over time. From there we can work on getting to more personal matters. Can you accomplish that? The only other option would be to start from more personal matters and then move abroad."

I sit still, glaring at him for the moment. The memories float back into my head and take over like the fog that rises in the morning. My eyes close of their own accord as the image of a large round table and dishes surrounds me.

"Be my guest, be my guest,

Put my service to the test,

Tie my hands around your neck, cherie,
and you won't feel the rest.

Stab you heart!

To the core!

Blood will spill
on the floor,

Try to fight me,

Or
be suspicious......."

"Make her stop!" I sensed my dad's frantic screaming in the background.

A rush of cold water is splashed on my face and I am met with two worried glances. "I think that's enough for today boys, good session," I say as i burst out of the room.

I know they won't follow me. Every Time something like this happens instead of finding out what it means, they stay in and discuss medication and ways to subdue my brain when it clicks out of reality. They say I make myself a subconscious world that my mind retreats to when I'm stressed. At some point in life I might care, but today I am not in the mood to listen to their theories. I walk outside just in time to see the man who saved me, again.

I stare for a moment trying to match the face with the words that i hear in my flash back but it is all a blur. All I know is that he is connected to all this. He could know Gus or even maybe was the one who helped him kidnap me. I know he couldn't have been sharing me because Gus was to.... Protective. If he was a part of the kidnapping then why would he save me? I need to know why.

I walk into the book store on 6th street wondering why he would ever want to go in there.

"Hey belly-belle, how the day going? Therapy again?"

"You know it. I hate everything about that stupid place," I say to Mr. Lateef.

Mr. Lateef's family has owned this small shop for as long as anyone could remember. Lateef used to babysit me as a kid and was he one who taught me to read. By now I have read just about every book in the entire store. Even when I was older if I wasn't with my mom I was at this store.

"Hey I got some new stuff in the back you might like. Let me know when you want to check it out, k?"

I nod smiling sweetly and continue to follow my target, silently. I don't want to seem weird, so I do my best to stay normal. While glancing at the books on the shelves, there is one in particular that catches my eye. I've never been one for fairy tales, but this one draws me in with its seductive mystery.

"You know that's not a regular fairytale book, it's said to have a few... special features," a deep voice says from behind me. "Once you read it, it'll change your life forever."

His warm breath prickles down my neck as he speaks. He is so close I could smell a light layer of cologne on him barely masking his natural scent. He smells like earth and woods with a hint of vanilla, making me breathe deep to get more of it. When I turn around to see who is speaking, I see the man I am supposed to be following behind me. I have been stalked by my stalkee.

"Who are you?"

"It will take a long time for me to give you the answer to your question, but I will tell you my name." A glint of mischief swam within his dark brown eyes as he looked at me.

"W-well what is it?"

"Adam."

The urge to reach out and touch him comes over me. I tentatively lift my hand to touch him, but he reaches me first. His hand is soft as it lands on my shoulder, but the sparks that flow through our skin send an alarmingly beautiful feelings throughout every inch of my body.

"I would like to tell you my story if you tell me yours," he says.

Discomfort arises in my chest when I am unable to read his face. I could feel myself shutting back at the thought of telling this stranger, or partial stranger, my story.

"Why would I tell you anything? I have no idea who you are, I have never met you, and I of all people should know about stranger danger. What if you're . . .actually, I'm going to--"

"Go?" he said, cutting me off. "Well, you can't leave 'cause you owe me. I don't just go around saving any girl from a crazy psycho killer every day."

I gasped as the memory encapsulated my mind.

Blood flowed like a river from the wound in my chest and splattered all around the floor. Violent coughs racked my body and each time more blood came up. All the poor dishes were breaking and cracking everywhere as a tear escaped my eyes. They didn't deserve to be
broken like that. It wasn't their fault I didn't listen when he threatened to hurt them.

There was hysterical laughter in the background and the sickening sound of a knife puncturing through flesh. I slowly lifted my arm, knowing that he would continue stabbing me after his outburst, but there were no more cuts surrounding me.

Warm muscular arms wrapped around my body and I felt myself being lifted from the ground.

"I got you. Where is all the blood coming from?"

"My heart.....he wanted to break my heart..."

"I'll fix it for you."

My body connected with the ground again and he placed his hand over the open wound. Instead of feeling the searing pain I felt when I touched it, a calm warmth spread across my chest.

"I will have to put the knife back in but I promise this time it won't hurt. I'm going to use it to heal your heart but I have to make it look real for the doctors."

I felt myself chuckle, "You're going to mend my broken heart?"

"Every chance I get."

As the memory fades away so did I, from the bookshop. I run as far and as fast as my heart will
let me all the way back to my home. I don't know what to make out of what was going on but it was different. I don't want different. Different means that things are going to change. All I want right now is for things to be simple. I want things to go back, back to the way they were, back before Gus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So how do you guys like it? What do you think of Adam? How do you feel about Belle? Would you act the same in that situation?
Let me know how you feel and think and don't forget to vote.
-Chey