“How long have you been watching me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Not long. Five minutes maybe. You’re very peaceful when you sleep. You remind me…”
But he doesn’t finish.
“What happened to us?” I ask him. “We used to be so close.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Why did you run away?” I press.
“Is that what you think happened?” he says. “That I ran?”
He seems angry again, and I’m not sure why.
“Maybe you should ask your father,” he continues, standing brusquely. He turns to go.
“Wait!” I say. “How can I ask him if you’re going to kill him?”
He pauses.
“Tell me what he did to you!” I insist.
He glances at me over one shoulder. “Nothing.”
I know he’s lying. “He must have done something. Why can’t you tell me the truth for once?”
“Because the truth is for friends,” he says. “And lovers. We are neither. I’m your kidnapper, you’re my captive. I’m a monster, you’re a princess. Let’s not forget our roles.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I tell him. “You can let me go, and—”
“And what?” he says. “Your father will never forgive me for taking you. He’ll hunt me down, or your brothers will. They, or me, will have to die.”
“Not if they don’t know you took me.” I sit up straighter. “I’ll never talk.”
Massimo stares at me, his features darkening. “You say that now, but once you’re free, what you experienced here will become a blur. It will seem like a dream. You’ll forget all the promises you made to me. And you’ll tell your father what he wants to know, to please him. You know I’m right.”
Before I can respond to that he’s gone, and the door shuts and locks behind him.
I get up and pace the room. I don’t agree with him. Not at all. If I made a promise to him I wouldn’t break it.
I’m a little surprised that he returned to set me free, though. I thought he’d leave me tied up all night. That tells me there’s a part of him that still cares for me, though it’s buried deep, and rarely rears its beautiful head. Well, at least I’m free to masturbate now. Though to be honest, I’ve lost the urge, at least for the time being. Our last discussion was anything but a turn on.
I think of my dream and wonder if it’s a premonition of some kind. What if, before this is done, Massimo will give his life to save mine? I dearly hope not. I’ve already lost him once. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle losing him again.
I shake my head and remind myself that I already lost him. Maybe my father had a hand in it, maybe not, but either way, the Massimo I knew is long dead.
He died the day he ran away.
I can’t sleep now, I’m too wired. I need to distract my mind, forget about everything, so I pull the slipper chair up to the nightstand and move the plates of food to the floor. Then I pretend I’m playing the piano, like I sometimes do at home. It’s one of the only ways I can keep up my training after my father took away the baby grand.
It’s a bit silly practicing like this, I know—there are no piano keys, no way to get proper feedback for each note I pretend to press. When I get to a real piano, I’ll probably be rustier than Rusty the Clown. And I look like a dummy doing it, but I don’t care. It’s all I have and it helps keep me sane.
If I had my phone I’d probably be using one of the virtual piano apps I own to record a song. It’s a fun hobby. But I can only imagine how dark and brooding any song I wrote now would be.
Ah, my phone, I feel so isolated without it. I’ve always prided myself on my self-control when it comes to posting on social media, but to be honest I never realized I’d developed an addiction until now. Today passed by so fast that I didn’t have time to think about it, but now that I do, I really miss exchanging Snaps with my friends and commenting on their pics. This is the first day I haven’t posted to TikTok in forever. I miss lip-syncing to silly songs and clips from old black and white movies. I miss browsing through random videos when I can’t sleep, like now.
I pause in my faux piano playing and close my eyes, bowing my head.
