Chapter Two - When I Woke

My stomach was rolling with nausea. I tried to roll to my side, but found I could not do so. My head was spinning and throbbing with a painful headache. Flashes of memories came to me that I couldn't make sense of. My chin being tilted up by hand and a bottle pressed to my lips. Warm, rough fingers laced through my own. A low rumbling voice speaking to me. A moving car. Blue eyes.

These memories came to me in flashes slowly as my mind became clear. Something wasn't right. As I became more aware, I could feel the bindings around my wrists and ankles. The makeshift blindfold that had been placed over my eyes was knotted behind my head and was uncomfortable to lay back on. The bed was too soft, and the air felt… wrong.

The memory of the car came to me again. A heavy pit settled in my stomach. I was almost certain that I was no longer in my room. And if I wasn't in my room, then where was I? My throat and chest felt tight. I could feel the panic rising in me, so I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself.

Although I was blindfolded and my wrists and ankles were bound, I was well aware of the fact that I was not gagged and it terrified me. I could scream, but if I had not been gagged, it most likely meant no one would be able to hear me. If I screamed, whoever had tied me up would know I was awake.

Aside from the killer headache and nausea, I wasn't in any pain. It terrified me to think that the person who had taken me from my home wanted me awake for whatever they planned to do.

My mind, as usual, went into overdrive, presenting every single possible torture that could be inflicted on me. I became dizzy with fear. My hands shook as I pulled at my restraints. I felt along the silky material, my fingers searching for knots that could be undone. My ankles were bound so that I couldn't reach the headboard. Whenever I pulled, my bindings tightened until I was forced to stop from the pain.

A door opened. I immediately let myself fall limp, letting my head roll to the side, away from the sound of the door so that I was not facing it. It took everything I had to take slow, measured breaths and feign sleep.

"I know you're awake," he said. I winced. His voice was so loud in the quiet room and my head was still throbbing. Despite his words and my reaction to them, I didn't move, hoping I could still pull off the act. He sighed. The bed sank with his weight and he sat beside me. I held my breath.

Warm, rough fingers stroked my bare forearm. "I didn't mean to bruise you. I'm sorry," he said, regret in his voice. My fingers flexed automatically as I tried to feel the bruises he spoke about. As I did so, a memory of a man on top of me and his knees pinning my arms down came to me. "Do you want me to remove the blindfold?" he asked, his weight shifting. A hand lifted my head off the pillow.

"No!" I gasped, pulling back. Well, I guess I was officially awake now. It was silent for a moment, but he didn't pull back right away. When he did, his fingertips skimmed over my throat and shoulder.

"Why don't you want the blindfold removed?" the man asked. There was humor in his voice now, as if I amused him. I tried to swallow the knot in my throat, but couldn't.

"Because once I see your face, you can't let me go," I said. His fingers left my shoulder, where they had been resting. Goosebumps rose where they had been.

"And what makes you think I'm not planning to keep you?" he asked. He was playing with me, or at least that's what it felt like. My mind raced at his question. It made dark thoughts and theories rise. Was he going to kill me after he tortured me?

"Then why bother with the blindfold?" I asked.

"Because I wanted my face to be the first thing you saw after you woke," he said, leaning forward once again. Before I could pull away, he pushed the blindfold up and over my head, sliding it off. I had managed to squeeze my eyes shut before I saw anything, but somehow, I now felt exposed. I flinched back as his hand stroked my cheek.

"Don't touch me," I spat.

"Open your eyes, Jamie," he said, and they almost did at the use of my name. Once again, I froze.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, panic clear in my voice. I winced as he firmly took my face in both of his hands.

"Look at me, Jamie," he demanded calmly. I tried to shake my head no, but couldn't in his grasp. "Yes. Look at me. You saw my face last night."

"No..." I whispered, my throat knotting up as tears welled up in me. But he was right. The memory of blue eyes came to me once again. Every shred of self preservation in me screamed not to open my eyes, but I had to confirm if it was true.

I had to blink several times at the light in the room. I kept my eyes on the ceiling at first, refusing to look directly at the man sitting just inches from me. He waited patiently, releasing my face. After several minutes of trying to build my courage, he spoke. "Jamie." It was an involuntary reaction. My eyes immediately flew to him and then it was too late to take back the action. He looked relieved as his eyes flitted over my face. I swallowed.

"How do you know my name?" My voice was calmer this time around, which was a relief. He looked down, picking up the edge of my night shirt and playing with the hem.

"I know a lot of things about you," he answered. His thumb stroked the skin below my belly button. I jumped at the touch of his skin against mine.

"Please don't touch me," I said as politely as I could, worried I would provoke him. He stopped the caress and looked up to meet my eyes. After a moment, he lifted his hand away, holding it up as if to show that he had listened.

"If it makes you a bit more comfortable, I'll try to keep my hands to myself for now," he said genuinely. His choice of words didn't go unnoticed and neither did the way he looked at me. Aside from the obvious heat in his gaze, I couldn't get a good reading off of him. Could he be talked into letting me go?

"I'd be a lot more comfortable if I wasn't restrained," I prodded gently. He smirked.

"You're cute, but that's not happening. At least, not until I can gauge how you are going to react to what I tell you," he said. I didn't know how to respond. It took me a moment to figure out what I wanted to say.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I asked, terrified of the answer I would receive. He looked taken aback. His eyebrows pulled together in concern as he looked at me.

"No. I could never hurt you, Jamie," he said, before his eyes flickered down to my arms at the large bruises there. Sadness touched his eyes for a moment. "At least not on purpose."

Somehow, that scared me almost as much as if the answer had been 'yes'. He spoke as if he knew me, and knew me well. "How do you know my name?" I asked one more time.

He sighed, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine once again. "I know your name because I have watched you for nearly two years now. I know everything about you."

"No..." I muttered in disbelief. "You can't. That's impossible. It doesn't make any sense. Why?"

"It started out as just curiosity," he said, shrugging. "Then… something happened that changed everything."

"But stalking?"

"I prefer the term 'watching', but essentially, yes. For the last two years I've been stalking you," he said. He at least had the sense to be embarrassed.

"No," I laughed.

"Excuse me?" he said, taken off guard.

"There's no way you watched me for two years without me noticing. Without anyone noticing," I exclaimed.

He raised his eyebrows. "Jamie, you're not exactly the most observant person." I flushed in embarrassment.

"No. You have me mixed up with someone else. You've made a mistake," I argued.

"Why would you think that? Don't you think I know the face I've been staring at for the last two years?" he asked, sounding amused.

"I don't believe you." I set my jaw. It couldn't be true. It didn't make any sense. Why me? There was nothing special about me.

"Do you want me to prove it?" he asked.

My stomach dropped. "No," I answered honestly.

"Well I'm going to anyway. Your birthday is November 23rd. Your favorite color is blue. Your favorite meal is chicken spaghetti, and you hate scary movies because they terrify you and give you nightmares."

"Wow," I said dryly. "All that info could be found on my Facebook."

"Okay. So you want me to get into the more personal stuff? How about the shoe box you keep hidden in the back of your closet?" he asked. My eyes widened as my body stiffened. "You know, I brought it in case you wanted it. I also wanted to save you the embarrassment of your parents finding your toy." He said it in a matter of fact way. There was no cruelty in his voice, but I was mortified. He leaned down and I could hear a box being slid out from under the bed.

My eyes flew to the ceiling and I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. "Stop," I plead.

"I charged the batteries for you too," he said, pressing the button. It buzzed to life for just a moment before he clicked several more times, turning it off. I refused to look, but could hear him place it back in the box and slide it back under the bed. Tears threatened to fall as another wave of humility washed over me. "Jamie," he said, brushing away a fallen tear with his thumb. "You don't need to be embarrassed. Most women your age have one. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Did you watch me?" I choked out.

He paused before answering. "I didn't start watching those… private moments until later."

"How much later?" I still refused to look at him.

"After about six months," he said, looking away.

"You're sick," I spat. He flinched. I turned my eyes to him, glaring. "You need to let me go."

"I can't," he said. "Now that you've seen my face, I can't take you back." I inspected him. Was this some sort of joke?

"Then what? What's going to happen to me?" He didn't answer. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Do you really want to know?" he asked, picking up a strand of my hair and playing with the curl. I watched as he twisted it around his finger and then tugged.

I hesitated. Did I want to know? "Yes," I said, before I could change my mind. He released the curl, resting his hand on my hip. I squirmed beneath his touch, but he didn't seem to notice.

He searched my face for a moment. "You and I have something in common," he said. When he didn't continue, I raised an eyebrow. He finally removed his hand from my waist to run it through his short, dark hair. "A similar… desire."

My heart went from zero to sixty in two seconds flat. He couldn't possibly know. "Stop," I nearly shouted. "I change my mind."

"Jamie, not hearing what I have to say doesn't change what's going to happen here," he said gently.

"Then tell me something else. Anything else," I bargained. He looked disappointed at my response. "Please."

He broke eye contact before speaking again. "You're not ready to hear everything. That's fine. I'll give you some time to think everything over and come to terms, but soon, we're going to discuss why your here."

"Soon?" I asked in astonishment. "How long do you plan on keeping me here?" I tried to stay calm while waiting for his response. He seemed sane enough, but what sane person stalks someone for two years and then kidnaps them?

"Forever, Jamie." Those two words shattered me. "Of course, I hope we can get to the point where you stay here because you want to, not because I force you to. But whether you want it or not, this is your life now. Just you and me."

"You're fucking crazy!" I shouted in disbelief. He stared back at me, his gaze a bit harder now.

"Do you need to use the restroom?" he asked, as if he hadn't just given me a life sentence.

"Yes, and your phone too!" I spat. His stony expression cracked and he laughed. It was a deep, beautiful laugh. His blue eyes lit up with humor.

"Jamie, you're cute, but that's not going to happen. There are no phones here. No devices you can use. And, before you get any ideas," he said, pointing at the large windows in the room. "Those are not regular windows. They're thicker, and they're not made of glass. This house was designed and built with you in mind. A lot of planning has gone into bringing you here. I don't want you hurting yourself."

He leaned forward and started to untie one of my wrists. I wasn't sure what to do after hearing everything he said. Some of my hope had already started to die. He was trying to tame me before I even attempted escape. He was lying. He had to be.

When both of my wrists were free, I held them close against me. My muscles ached from being in that position for who knows how long. The man moved to my ankles, his fingers skimming along my legs. I shivered as goosebumps rose in their path. He made quick work of the knots. My legs screamed as I pulled them up, tucking them beneath me. I pulled my night shirt down as far as I could to cover my legs. My shorts weren't doing a very good job of it.

He turned his blue eyes on me, carefully watching me. "I'm not going to make a run for it," I said. I just wanted him to stop looking at me. I felt naked in front of him.

"Not yet," he said. When I didn't respond he reached for me. I scooted away from his touch. He sighed. "Come on," he said gently. "I'm sure a hot shower or bath would do wonders for you right now."

"I'm not getting naked with you anywhere near me," I said bluntly.

"If I wanted you naked, you'd be naked," he said just as bluntly, but with humor in his eyes. "I plan on taking my time with you, so relax." I bristled at his words and the implications they held. "I just want you to be comfortable, clean you up, and get some food in you. I'm sure your muscles are sore and that your head is killing you. It's also pretty late in the day and you haven't eaten since last night."

I felt a pang in my stomach at the mention of food. I pinched my bottom lip between my thumb and forefinger, plucking as I thought it over. "How do I know you won't drug me again?"

"I have no reason to. You're already here," he said, holding me in a gaze that felt too intimate. His eyes flickered for a moment to my fingers still plucking away at my lip. "I'd stop doing that if I were you." His voice had dropped into a low rumble. My stomach quivered as a shot of adrenaline entered my bloodstream. I immediately heeded his advice, wrapping my arm around myself so I wouldn't fidget. His eyes were intense. It felt as if he could hear every thought that crossed my mind.

"What if you drugged me so you could..." He stared into my eyes, refusing to look away. When I couldn't finish my sentence, I broke the eye contact. I took a deep breath, wishing my anxiety would calm down so I could think straight. "So I don't fight you."

"I want you awake," he said. He must have seen the panic in my eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. That's not why you're here. But I don't mind if you put up a fight. It's part of the experience." I stiffened. My fear and anxiety was slowly being replaced with something else.

"You're sick," I said with disgust. My blood start simmering. Anger began to take over. I could feel my muscles tensing up in preparation. For fight or flight, I wasn't sure.

"I had never thought about doing something like this until you came into my life, Jamie," he said, no shame in his voice. "I won't apologize for this. It took months to make this decision. I weighed the consequences against what we can both get out of this and I still stand by my decision."

I was off the bed and on my feet within moments. He stayed where he sat on the bed, but turned to face me. At first glance, he seemed relaxed, but I noted the shift in how he sat, moving one foot to sit flat on the floor, his hand resting beside the bed. He was ready to leap from where he sat to tackle me if need be. "What could I possibly get out of this situation?" I spat at him. I tried desperately to keep from looking at the open door. He was closer to it than I was.

"Don't be coy, Jamie," he teased. I bristled. "I plan on giving you as much pleasure as I take from you."

"If you even fucking touch me-"

"I plan on doing a lot more than that," he promised. "You want all of this as much as I do."

"I don't want any of this!" I shouted, tears pricking at my eyes.

"This was your fantasy long before it became mine," he said.

My eyes flicked to the door. I ran.