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I scream.

I kick.

I try to hang on to the floor, my nails ripping away against the hardwood, and pain shoots up my arms as he continues dragging my body down the hallway.

Tears stream down my face in torrents as he pulls me into the kitchen and flips me to my back, straddling my waist as he reaches for my hands. I fight him, constantly moving so I’m harder to latch on to, and one hand connects with his cheek. He roars in anger, slamming his body down on me, and I struggle to breathe as I continue trying to fight him. Sitting up, he wraps his hand around my throat, and my eyes go wide as I reach for him.

“You’ll thank me for this some day,” he whispers. “Fifty years from now, when we’re still happily married and our grandchildren are running around the house, you’ll thank me.”

“No!” I scream, my throat aching from the strain as he grabs one hand and pins it to the floor. I swing at him and scratch his cheek. He releases me with a hiss, bringing his hand up to his face before looking back down at me with wide eyes.

“Why are you doing this? I’m saving you.”

“No, you’re kidnapping me!” I yell, spitting in his face, and he growls as his fist slams down on my face. It stuns me long enough that he’s able to grab both of my hands and tape them together before doing the same to my ankles. As he picks me up from the floor and carries me over to the kitchen table, I glare at him.

He sets me down in a chair and crouches down in front of me, running a hand over my face. “Why did you make me do this, Sweet Girl? What did he do to you to make you think I was the evil in your life?”

“He didn’t have to do anything. I saw it all on my own,” I spit, and he stands, sighing as he starts pacing through the kitchen.

“It’s gotta be like some kind of Stockholm syndrome, right?” he mutters to himself, glancing at me. He comes back over to me and kneels in front of my chair. “You have to remember, Baby.”

When I don’t say anything, he sighs and drops his head.

“Remember when we first met, Angel? We sat across from each other on that deck, and our connection was so strong.”

I’m about to tell him that he’s delusional when a memory hits me, and I tilt my head as I look at him. There’s only one person that I can remember sitting on a deck with in recent memory but he doesn’t look anything like him. I squint, trying to imagine him with a mop of light brown hair instead of the straight dark hair he has now, and he smiles.

I gasp.

“Zach?” I ask, my mind racing as I think over my entire dinner with him. What on earth is he talking about though? He was nice but there was no connection. None at all.

“Yes, Baby,” he exclaims, grabbing my face in his hands. “You remember, don’t you? The very moment we met; I knew what we have is so special.”

I shake my head. “We didn’t have a connection. I had dinner with you once, and I haven’t seen you again.”

“No. That’s not true. We were inseparable until he took you away from me.”

I glance up at him, and the earnest look on his face makes me rethink my approach. I just need to get away from him. Maybe if I play along…

“I remember,” I whisper, and he smiles, his entire face lighting up.

“You do?”

I nod, forcing a smile to my face as I peek up at him. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh, Angel,” he says, leaning forward and caressing my cheek. He leans in to kiss me but stops. “Let me clean you up, Baby. I’m so sorry that I had to do this.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” I say, choking back the bile that is fighting its way up from my little act. He comes back with a wet washcloth and starts cleaning the blood off my face. I hiss as he brushes my nose, and I already know that it’s broken.

“I’m so sorry, Angel. When we get out of here, we’ll get you fixed up. But we have to hurry.”

Once I’m clean, he leans down and smiles as he presses his lips to mine. My body retches, desperately wanting to get away from him but I take a deep breath and force myself to kiss him back. It’s the only way it will work.

“Why did you use a different name?” I ask, the question nagging me as I watch him.

“I had to, Sweetheart. If you had known it was me, you wouldn’t have been scared and he would have known. I had to keep you safe.”

“And your hair?”