It was day fifteen; the rooster's boisterous crow woke Faith from her slumber. Her languid eyes were greeted by the full brilliance of the burning star pouring through the window she forgot to close.

Last night, she sprawled across her bed, gazing out the window as the moon's luminescent glow streaked across her room was the only way she fell asleep. Her bored, trapped mind drifted to times when she had more freedom than she could handle. She lied under the thin quilted blanket listening to the rooster's entire chorale letting all souls near know that it was time to rise as she replayed the things she thought about last night

"What's her name again?" Harper asked lounging in the backseat of Isabeth's Land Rover in a tie-dyed bikini top and white shorts skimming the page of a weathered book. "Georgia?"

"No, she's from Georgia." Isabeth corrected sliding the gearshift to park in front of the stonewashed storefronts on Emerald Lane. The spaghetti strap slipped off her shoulder as she unbuckled the seatbelt. "Her name's Gidget. You know like the movie."

"What movie?" Harper inquired jumping up and propping her arm on the passenger seat.

Faith pushed Harper's arm off her seat, "You know she doesn't watch anything made before 1991." Isabeth shook her head disapproving of her friend's lack of appreciation for the classics while Faith smirked as she shifted her azure eyes to the buildings. Her gaze on the storefront a couple of feet away from them with pristine glass windows displaying high-priced jeans and appealing blouses. Above the windows in bold, black, plain lettering was the name—Hamilton. "I can't believe Fiona's parents make her work in the summer."

"They say it builds work ethic." Isabeth swiped through the texts on her clear-cased phone. "I, on the other hand, was born with a gift."

"Lying...is that the gift you have?" Faith teased snatching the phone out of Isabeth's hand.

"Gave me that back." Isabeth tried to get her phone from Faith's quick hands.

Faith leaned against the door with the phone close to the window, "Malachi. Malachi. Malachi. How many times have you two texted? Damn."

Harper's eyes lifted from the book her mother made her read because she told her she was bored, "You and Malachi."

"Relax, Harper." Isabeth read the girl's sad face in the rearview mirror. "I'm not trying to steal your imaginary boyfriend." The words made the backseat rider roll her honey eyes. "We're just working on something." She slapped Faith's bare arm, "Give me."

Faith paid no mind to the reddish mark glowing on her tanned olive skin as she gave Isabeth the phone back, "Friends shouldn't have secrets, Isabeth."

"We don't." Isabeth dropped the phone in her lap staring ahead at the BMW parked in front of her. "It's a non-issue. We're just friends."

"Humph." Faith let out as she looked back out the window. The golden summer sun basking over Evening highlighted the unrefined beauty of the girl at Fiona's side. "I don't like this Gidget girl. There's a darkness about her."

"Oh give it a break, Faith," Harper spoke up tossing the book in the seat. "You're not a mystic. I don't care if your Grandmother is from New Orleans."

Faith bestowed the girl with a wicked stare then turned back around, "All I'm saying is we don't know any O'Malley's and if we don't know her family how are we supposed to know what kind of person she is."

"Here's a hint..." Isabeth began as the pair neared the car. "Get to know her."   

Familiar knocks tapped against the door ripping Faith out of the domicile of her mind to the prison that awaited her in reality. The door swung open and she rocketed upright clinging the blanket to her chest, braless and free. She frowned at the boy with fierceness in her eyes as he shut the door behind him.

"Up and at em, Miss. Payson." The Boy clapped his paddle hands, the noise cracking through the room like thunder during a spring rainstorm. "It's a new day and I have a surprise for you."

Faith tucked the blanket under her arms staring at him with beguiling tainted eyes. His easy scent of freshly squeezed grapefruit and clean linen circled the room with the help of the gust of wind blowing through the window, sweeping up the floor-length curtains.

"What kind of surprise?" She flatly asked stacking the pillows and lounging back on them. "Are you setting me free?"

His hearty laugh ignited a fire in her core as her eyes flung daggers at his approaching frame. "Oh no." The corners of his mouth lifted to his nutmeg eyes, "Not that kind of surprise." His smile lingered as he reached behind him, "Since you were a good girl and ate like you were supposed to...I thought I'd reward you with entertainment." His arm came back around with a green hardback book in hand. "I know this place can get kind of..." His eyes lulled up in search of a word. "Stale without the creature comforts of your generation."

Faith studied The Boy's smooth supple skin. Not one wrinkle was on his tawny skin. Not even a shade of facial hair dusted his chin. He couldn't be older than her.

"My generation." She huffed with sarcasm. "What foster home did he pillage you out of?"

All humor faded from his face. His fingers tighten on the book, draining the blood from his tips, "You don't know a thing about me, Faith Emilie Payson." The corner of his eyes twitched from the indignation swirling through his thin body. "Our lives are complete opposites of each other."

Hostility wasn't something that deterred Faith. She grew up in a house where her mother's wrath was as absolute as twenty-four hours being in a day.

"So, your life's fucked up and mines has to be too." With a tilt of her head, her curly locks fell. She pushed up her no-longer arched eyebrows urging him to give her a rebuttal.

"No, quite the contrary." An easy smile spread on his lips meant to be warm but supremely missed the mark. "My pathetic life changed since The Collector found me." He drummed his evenly filed nails on the book's cover. "I'm skipping in a land of daffodils." He winked. "If you get my gest."

Faith's nose bunched up, as she nodded, "No. Not at all." She rested her hand under her chin with a priggish smirk claiming her face. "My mind doesn't frequent the realm of lunatic. So, I can't see the sunny side of kidnapping people." She fanned her hands out with a brimming smile.

"You're understanding when you meet him." The Boy gave her a knowing nod as he stood at the end of her bed. "The Collector is captivating. He'll have you under his spell just like everyone else."

Everyone else. The two words had her wondering who else was locked away in this house. She didn't know how many rooms the house had or if the place she was kept hidden in was a house at all. She could see a never-ending driveway made of flat dirt and rocks out her window and greenery but nothing more of the structure that was her new abode.

"We shall see." She raised her arms above her head stretching her dormant muscles. The blanket tumbled onto her lap as her chest rose from the deep breath she inhaled. Faith felt the lingering heat of his eyes trace her body; the curve of her torso, the suppleness of her skin, and the outline of her perky breast through the thin fabric. "You see something you like, little boy?" Her arms lazily lowered as her eyes flickered open. His gaze sheepishly fell to the book and the corner of her mouth raised with satisfaction. Her overt sexuality made him timid and she liked it.

"I...um..." He cleared his throat nervously refusing to make eye contact with her. "Got you...this...um...book."

"You did." She said with a tone laced with excitement. She crawled to the edge of the bed, sitting on her haunches. "Just for me?"

"Y-Yes." His eyes skittered up to her then back down. It was probably from the sultry smile she gave him or the spaghetti strap hanging off her shoulder displaying more skin than he was used to seeing. "I-I think y-you might like it."

Her fingers brushed against his as she dragged the book out of his grasp, "I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings." She opened the cover and fanned through the pages. "Are you trying to tell me something? Do you think I'm a caged bird?"

"I..." He shook his head taking a step back. He toyed with his fingers. "I think you're a Harpy Eagle."

Faith's nostrils flared, "Now, you're calling me a Harpie."

"No. Not like that." He quickly waved his hands, "It's a fierce eagle in the Americas. It's rare. Exotic. And dangerous; just like you." His eyes scrolled up menacing and knowing. "As I said, I know you. You're ravishing and intoxicating and any man in your eyeline is your prey. That's why you're here." His arms fanned out and his chest rose with pride. "You're wildness caught The Collector's eye." He slapped his hands together; the loud clap caused her to jump. 

"Now, it's almost time for breakfast." He glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom, "Clean up. Get refreshed. The Collector isn't a fan of filth." He marched towards the door. He stopped in the doorway. His lustful eyes trailed over her body, "The Collector's going to have fun with you." He smiled nefariously. "You're his best get, yet." He slipped out the door and slammed it behind him.

Faith flung the book at the door. The book's thud against the door drowned out the soul-crushing click of the lock. She collapsed back in the bed coming to one conclusion with surety; if she was going to get out of there, she was going to do something she vowed to her friends she wouldn't do. She was going to have to get her hands filthy and not with dirt. 

What do you think Faith is thinking about doing?