Nearly a week and a half had gone by since Seth had taken me for himself. The routine of solitude growing boring and long, though I never willed for Seth to return from work, rather hoping he would be brutally injured in a car crash or even killed. I knew that if he were to die before coming back here to release me, I'd probably die of thirst or starvation, but I was willing to take either of those chances.

The days were all the same, marked by the books I had read. At this point, the stack of books I had read was larger than the stack of those I had left. I had nearly given up on the loose shelf, making headway about four centimeters from the wall before it refused to budge. Even sticking my fingers through the crevice was not enough to wiggle it free. I had tried to use one of the boards from the board games to try and pry it open, but I just ended up snapping the thin cardboard. None of the other shelves showing any sign of moving at all. I had wrestled with it until my fingers bled, and there seemed to be nothing more I could do with it.

With Seth gone and no television or other mode of entertainment, all I had were the books. They had become my friends and my family. I knew some of the stories by heart, but every time it still transferred me to somewhere else. Immersing myself in them, the otherworldly settings a release from my confined prison cell. The only thing this room was missing was bars, not that I wanted or needed them anyway, Seth able to control me without them.

Every morning before he left to work he would take me upstairs to shower. Always holding me firm and rushing me to the bathroom as if afraid what I would catch a glimpse of something that would reveal himself to me and he had forced me to do for him. Every single day I looked into the other rooms if I could, hoping to find what made him so scared of me going into his space. Clearly an invasion of privacy wasn't an issue for him as he continued to watch me undress in front of him before diving into the safety of the shower.

He started to get closer to me, always touching me as I undressed. It started out with just my arm, grabbing it to hold me as he spoke softly as if afraid someone else could hear his threats. Eventually it moved downward towards my stomach and then my ass as of today. His touch was always uncomfortable to say this least, his hands cold and burning at the same time, leaving my skin tingling. I always scrubbed as hard as I could in the shower, hoping that if I got down to bone he might stop.

Thankfully he wasn't the first to touch me like this, in this intimacy. I had someone else who had given me my first experience, my first wonderful experience. Liam had been my first. My first kiss, my first love, my first everything. He had been my first boyfriend to last more than a month and every time I spent with him was perfect. Liam had wanted to please me, to make me comfortable with him and his body. Every touch better than the last, leaving me wanting more. More of him and his love. Liam had showed me how to trust someone's touch and Seth seemed determined to drag all of that away, taking pleasure in my discomfort and pushing further once I had grown numb to certain aspects.

The only thing I couldn't figure out was why he was holding back. He knew he could take what he wanted from me, I had no power over him, yet he moved slowly. He inched down my body, further every day, but each time he would stop himself at some point. He knew he could take me, but he didn't. Did he really want me to love him too? The idea of that seemed preposterous, impossible from my end. I couldn't explain it.

I knew I couldn't bear him for much longer. he had already explored my body with his eyes and much of it with his hands, I knew I couldn't fend him off for much longer. He wanted more, craved it, but not for the same reasons. He did it out of spite. I don't know how I know this, but I do. He wants to love me and wants something resembling love from me in return, but he hates me. Somewhere deep down he feels like I have wronged him in some way.

I think I learned this one morning before I stepped into the shower. That morning he had woken me up, his hair suddenly blonde instead of the dark black. I didn't question it, only gave him a backhanded compliment that he didn't pick up on. He dragged me upstairs and had me undress as usual, but when he leaned close to whisper one of his threats I noticed something unusual. On the side of his face, right above his jaw was a scar. A scar so small I could have missed it, but the new blonde from his hair didn't hide it as well as the jet black, if anything it accentuated the mark. Before I knew what I was doing I touched the side of Seth's face, nearly cupping it in my hand, my finger lightly tracing over the scar. That time he flinched, taking a step back in horror. My touch had wrecked him as much as his had to me. That was intimate to him, something he was uncomfortable with.

I tilted my head to the side, taking in his confusion with a slight sense of pride. I studied his face, the disgust and fear it displayed. I felt strangely calm, no longer afraid of him as intensely as I had been. I knew he wouldn't kill me unless he had to. He needed me alive. His face grew angry as he noticed my content. Before I knew what was happening he threw me into the sink, my head colliding with the white marble of the counter top. I blacked out. The next thing I remembered I was back in the basement on the mattress in clothes similar to the ones I had when I first woke up in the dark room. There was a blood stain on the mattress where my head had laid, but it had since stopped bleeding. He didn't come down to the basement to be entertained by me for the rest of the day, joining me only after I had fallen asleep for the night.

That was the last time he had acted out in aggression towards me, the rest of the time he had been fairly gentle. Well, gentle isn't the word, but he'd been impressively more cordial, occasionally letting me go to the kitchen with him to make a simple dinner. His smile still sent shivers down my spine, chilling me to the bone. He was and would always be a predator. At least he was trying, genuinely trying to care for and about me. One day after work he even brought me a new book, claiming that he knew how much I liked to read and noted that I would soon get bored of the darker novels.

He wasn't wrong about how much I liked to read, but I wasn't growing bored of the darker books. In fact, I was learning a lot from them. In many instances the main characters or the villains resembled Seth, helping me figure out ways I could destroy him or shock him enough to slip up, hoping that he would soon either actually fall in love with me and let me walk out of his front door, or let his guard down enough for me to strike. Most of the books didn't shine to greatly in my favor, but if I knew what didn't work, then I wouldn't try them and face the consequences. Any failed attempts the heroes made helped me learn from their mistakes and conjure up new plans.

Reaching near the two week mark, my spirits had started to lift, thinking the police would be here in just a few days to arrest Seth and set me free, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. This kidnapping had been nothing like my first and there was no reason for me to believe that they'd catch him or even know who he was after two weeks. I was stuck for the foreseeable future. Utterly trapped. I had to face the dilemma of whether it was worth waiting for the police, or if I should attempt my own grand escape and risk dying in the process.

I wanted to die. Some days more than others and some days less, but I knew I wouldn't survive being with Seth for long. But something had spooked him. He had dyed his black hair blonde, enough to hide some of his identity. Someone was looking for him, Liam, and he likely found something, enough to send Seth running to the nearest CVS for some cheap bleach.

With his hair as blonde as it was, he reminded me of the kid in my memory. The one watching me as I was saved from the family friend. His eyes were the same kind of haunting, his hair the same color of sun soaked sand. Both seemed to hate and admire me at the same time, and both wanted to hurt me in ways I had never been hurt before.

I shook the idea from my head, trying to pay attention to the pages of the next book I was into. I heard the slam of Seth's car door. I glanced up at the windows above me and frowned. He was coming back earlier and earlier. Something was keeping him from going to work. I wondered just how long it would be until he was here for entire days, solidifying my living hell. I promised myself I'd give myself another week and a half before my grand escape plan, giving the police three weeks total to try and find me. That also gave me a week and a half to try and find something I could use to kill Seth.