Set for failure

I’ve been held in this room for the past four days. No internet. He locks the door when he leaves, but there’s plenty of food and fruit, a hot shower—this is like an upgrade from what I had back home. There are books and comic books I can entertain myself with. Lowkey, I love it here. Obviously, I can’t say that out loud. It’s crazy.

My captor comes at night, his clothes stained with blood. Is he a hunter or something? I ask. He never answers. I still don’t know why I’m here or his name. I call him Ocean Eyes. My Ocean Eyes. Huh, that’s just wishful thinking, but just imagine him being mine—those strong arms holding me at night. I’d never be scared of anything ever again.

“You can sleep on the bed. The floor ain’t good for your chest,” he says while undressing. I shamelessly check him out, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“What about you?” I ask.

He says he’ll sleep on the sofa downstairs. That’s a no from me. I need my cocoa butter smell here with me. It helps me sleep. Of course, I don’t say that out loud.

He takes a shower and comes back. “Come up here, we can share,” he says, tapping the bed. I run—literally—before he changes his mind.

I can’t sleep. I’m afraid of breathing too loud, turning too much. I don’t know when sleep catches me, but when I wake up, I’m alone. There’s breakfast on the table and a note:

No noise. My cousin is downstairs. No going out. Will bring you your schoolwork.

I’m not a kidnapper, but what the hell is he doing?“Are you not afraid I’ll run away?” I ask.

He looks me straight in the eyes and says, “I’m a wanted man out there. The cops want me. The killer—the revenge killer—wants me. And the public too.”

That shuts me up.

Then he laughs. This heavy, heavenly laughter that rattles my head. He ruffles my hair as he passes.

My stomach flips. Butterflies. I can’t breathe.

Wow. Just… wow.

I want to listen to that laugh every day.Most of the time, I do the talking. He does the ignoring.

Last night, I went on and on about how one of his comic books has a missing page and I’ll never know what happened.

Today, he showed up with a brand-new one. Oooh boy, it’s like he’s setting me up for failure—making me feel spoiled and unsure how to handle it.

Later, he came into the room with warm milk to help me sleep better.

This is pathetic to admit, but this is the most someone has ever taken care of me. Not even my own parents. Pathetic, right?Sometimes I catch him watching me from the corner of my eye, those ocean-blue eyes soft and unreadable.

I don’t know what to make of it.

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