Page 13 of Brutal Captivity

Leo smiles at him in thanks, a loaded exchange that makes me study them more closely. Are they together? A pang of what could only be described as jealousy hits my heart. It’s only because of the easy and intimate way they touch each other, something I have never experienced. When Fletcher removes his hand a few seconds later, I want to sigh in relief.

“Apparently not. I tried that. Even offered to take you to the fucking moon, but Peadar wouldn’t budge. Trust me. I’m not any happier about this little arrangement than you are, but it will be way more comfortable than the warehouse at least,” Leo finally responds, and I had almost forgotten what I asked, too wrapped up in my confusing emotions.

Leo slowly walks up to the back door. I look around some more, noticing the driveway is long. I can’t even see where it leads, but judging by the fence, I would guess it’s gated. There is no way I would be able to climb over it, even if I did manage to get outside. Peadar wasn’t wrong to say that it’s safe, and I have no idea what’s in store for me on the inside.

Fletcher stays behind me as Leo types in the keycode to unlock the door then swipes a card that he produced out of nowhere. My eyes widen, for some reason not expecting something so high-tech to be on the door of a thief’s house. Leo turns around, grabbing my arm and ushering me inside.

We enter directly into some sort of mud room with a washer and dryer along one of the walls. I look down, finding a pile of shoes of varying styles ranging from Converse to Doc Martens. It's just so… normal.

“Do you need me?” Fletcher asks from behind me.

“Nah. I think I got it,” Leo responds, turning back to look at Fletcher.

“Are you sure? You look… pretty out of it still,” Fletcher eyes Leo with a worried expression.

“I think I can handle myself against a rich brat, Fletch.”Ouch.

“This rich brat is the reason why you have a concussion,” I can’t help but say.

“I was caught off guard,” Leo waves me off, clearly irritated. I nod sarcastically. Leo rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, Fletch,” he says again, returning his attention to Fletcher.

“Are you sure?” Fletcher asks one more time, eyeing me.

“Yes,” Leo snaps.

“Okay. Have fun with the spoiled brat,” Fletcher finally says, then turns around and walks away, the door shutting behind him. I almost stick my tongue out at his back like a petulant child.

I follow Leo through a doorway into the kitchen. My eyebrows raise in surprise. It is remarkably well decorated and clean. It has white cabinets with dark blue marble countertops. The floor is a slate gray tile, and there are beechwood accents all over to match the beechwood dining room set under a chandelier over to the side. It definitely is not what I was expecting Leo’s kitchen to look like.

“Are you married?” I blurt out because it’s the only way to explain the decor that I have seen thus far. My mind goes back to the flirtatious way he interacted with Fletcher, but, if they are together, Fletcher clearly doesn’t live with him.

Leo looks up from some mail that he has lying on the table, thumbing through it. He smirks, as if he was waiting for me to ask the question. My cheeks burn, and I have no idea why I’m embarrassed. It’s a valid question. I should know in case I run into some person or a small child even.

“Nope. Just me. Daron lives nearby, so he’s over pretty often. Evan and Fletch drop by pretty frequently, too,” Leo answers, and relief floods my system. I shouldn't feel relieved, though. Other people would make escaping easier. I’mcharming by nature. It would be easy for me to convince another person living here to help me escape.

I glance around the kitchen once more. A blue coffee maker sits on the counter along with various other kitchen appliances. Most look unused. There is a microwave above the sparkling clean oven, the time reading 10:54 am. On the refrigerator, there is a whiteboard. I read the message written in neat, bubbly handwriting. It almost looks feminine.

“Who’s Sully then?” I ask, pronouncing the name slowly because it feels strange on my lips. When Leo looks confused, I gesture toward the whiteboard on the refrigerator with the message: “Sully, you're a dickwad, but I love you.”

“Oh that. My last name is Sullivan. Sometimes, my friends call me that. And as for the message, Fletcher wrote that when we were drunk.” Leo shrugs, glancing over at the fridge again.

The image of Leo and his friends drinking and having fun seems strange. Makes them seem more… human. The message on the fridge has me wondering about the nature of Leo's relationship with Fletcher once again. I don't know why it’s bothering me so much, but it is.

“But yeah,” Leo continues, eyes finally meeting mine. “Short for my last name, Sullivan. Leonardo Sullivan. Leo.” I turn the new information over in my head, as if looking at a piece of artwork from different angles until it makes sense. It doesn’t. Leonardo De Vinci is one of my favorite painters. I was not expecting thiscriminalto share a name with one of the most influential artists in history.

“You just told me your full name?” My eyes reach my eyebrows, stunned. That has to be breaking some criminal code, right?

“It’s only fair since I know everything about you. What are you gonna do with it anyway? I have no need to hide my identity.”

“I could turn you into the police.” I leave off the ‘when my parents pay the ransom’ because I know they won’t.

“Most of the local police are on our payroll or being blackmailed. They aren’t gonna do shit.” Leo’s nonchalance about this grates on my nerves. I want to argue, but I know I can’t. I have no knowledge about the inner workings of a criminal organization. Having corrupt cops makes sense, though.

“Come on. I’ll show you around the rest of the house.” I follow him into the living room, finding similar decor to the kitchen, clean and simple.

The walls are painted a light gray, with dark blue curtains on the tall, thin windows. The curtains have a hint of green to them. The couch and chair are also gray, with large comfy cushions that look perfect for napping in front ofthe TV. There is a beechwood coffee table, end table, and an entertainment center, situated on dark gray wood flooring, a green rug under the main pieces of furniture.

The TV is large with some sort of gaming system attached, four controllers strewn all around. I have never been much of a video game player, but I find myself wanting to learn to play. I wonder if Fletcher, Evan and Daron come over to play games as they snack on junk food and yell at each other. My heart aches with my own loneliness, never having experienced a night like that. A night to be with my friends, a part of the group, having fun and not caring about what others think.