She's keeping me on my toes, too. It's a good thing. A person can get really bored out here at the cabin with nothing else to do.
Every morning and every afternoon, there is a new escape attempt. It doesn't matter how many times I tell her it's dangerous out there, she isn't listening.
"Again?" I muse, watching her trying to pick the lock on the back door. She's got the sharp end of a screwdriver jammed into the keyhole, and she's aggressively stabbing it back and forth. I should tell her there isn't a key for the door, only a hidden keypad that unlocks the bolt with a code. That keyhole is long obsolete.
"Go away," she snaps. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Nikita, we're literally in the middle of nowhere. There is nothing but wilderness and swamp land around us. A little rabbit like you won't last five minutes before an alligator or a bear finds you. Is that the message you want on your gravestone?" I taunt her, my arms folded across my chest as I lean on the doorframe leading out of the kitchen into the alcoveshe's crouched in. She's still trying to pick the lock. It's a terrible effort. She clearly has no idea what she's doing. In fact, at this point, I reckon she's closer to breaking it than opening it.
Shedidmanage to get out twice, though. Once, by literally maneuvering a whole glass panel out of a window frame. And once, because I was out in the garden and didn't close the door properly behind me. I was just faster than her, so she didn't get off the property and into any dangerous areas. I really don't feel like scraping up body parts from all over the woods after a wild animal mauls her.
Nikita is glaring at me. Her beautiful blue eyes are always intriguing and full of secrets.She's an Abashin. They aren't secrets. They're lies.
I smirk, cocking my head to the side. "Well, is it?" I ask.
"Is it what?" she huffs, annoyed at my intrusion.
"Is it what you want on your gravestone?"
She stops her angry glaring and scrunches her nose, pondering my question.
"Actually," she replies thoughtfully, "I think it's a unique and exciting way to leave this planet. People will be talking about it forever.Oh, that's the girl who got dragged to her death by an alligator.Everyone will think I was an adventurer. A brave explorer."
"Everyone will think you were a moron who didn't know how to take care of herself," I scoff.
This remark seems to upset her more than anything else I've said.
"I amperfectly capableof taking care of myself!" she snaps back at me. "Why does everyone think I'm not capable of keeping myself alive. It's a basic human skill, and so far I'vedone a good job of it! Dammit, people are so over-concerned about how I live my life. You all need to learn to mind your own business!" Clearly, she's talking about more than just me. Her brothers, maybe? Overprotective?
She thinks she's done a good job of keeping herself alive so far. That's funny.
I want to say,have you though?Considering she got kidnapped after stupidly sneaking out.
Instead, I raise my hands defensively. "Ok, ok, little rabbit. Calm down," I mutter.
Apparently, this is even worse than accusing her of being incapable.
"Calm down?Do I notlookcalmto you?" she growls, waving the screwdriver in my direction.
"Not really… No," I smirk, knowing I'm getting under her skin. For some reason, I like pissing her off. It brings me great satisfaction. It must be a small gesture toward the vengeance I so badly want against her family.
She marches toward me, brandishing the screwdriver like a weapon. "You have no idea how to treat a woman! You're bossy, and you make ridiculous assumptions, and you have zero respect… "
"You'll never get that lock open with a screwdriver, you know. Next time, you should try something thinner. More needle-like. A piece of wire or something," I say, grabbing her wrist and easily taking the tool from her hand.
She grumbles something I can't make out, then storms off in a huff, pushing past me angrily. Her scent wafts over me. Feminine and beautiful.
Shaking my head, I carry the screwdriver back to the little store room behind the kitchen. It's a pantry and a catch-all for the odds and ends that I need around here.
In the room, I find that she's built a ladder from chairs and boxes to drag my toolbox off a high shelf. A chuckle escapes me and also annoys me. I shouldn't find it so amusing. This isn't some lighthearted situation. She is my prisoner, and I should probably be a lot more strict about her escape attempts. What good is she to me if she's dead? Technically, I should lock her in her room and not even speak to her. But I can't bring myself to do that. Like I said… She's entertaining. This is purely to ease the boredom out here. That's all.
I'll just have to be more vigilant.
Another two days go by, and to my surprise, despite watching her every move, she's made no more attempts. But why would she go from regularly trying different ways to get away from me to nothing?
It's a trick. It has to be.
We're sitting in the living room, watching the sunset through the high glass windows.
