Chapter 8
Rosalie
My head felt like a war zone. Every throb, every pulse of pain echoed against my skull.
The throbbing was accompanied by an overwhelming sensation of nausea, a cruel reminder of last night’s indulgence.
My vision was blurry when I first opened my eyes before resolving into a soft, muted space.
I was lying in a bed, one that was far comfier than my own, surrounded by pillows and blankets.
Where am I?
The last thing I remember last night was Liam and then—nothing.
Panic, raw and immediate, clawed at my throat.
I sat up, my stomach lurching. The room began to spin; I closed my eyes, trying to choke the nausea back down.
After a few moments, it became bearable again, and when I scanned my surroundings, I realized that this–this was not my bedroom.
It appeared to be a renovated basement. I was in a bed in the corner, and a nightstand was beside me.
On the other side was an open door to a bathroom.
There was a TV, a sofa, a coffee table—I couldn’t see all of the other side of the room from where I was but I could see the mirrors that hung on the wall from floor to ceiling, and what appeared to be a practice floor with bars.
Intended for ballet. Everything was neat, meticulously organized and to my taste.
A sense of dread, cold, suffocating dread washed over me.
Where the fuck am I?!
I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
Rushing towards the staircase, I was about to run up it when at the top, with the door closed behind him and presumably locked, was him.
Holding a tray of what appeared to be breakfast in his hands.
I couldn’t make out his face from the darkness of the stairs, but by how tall he was, I knew it was a man.
My kidnapper.
Tears welled in my eyes. “Please let me go home,” I begged.
Panicking, I looked for anything that I could use as a weapon.
I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand, yanking it out of the socket, holding it up, ready to throw it at him.
“Let me go!” I screamed with tears in my eyes.
I threw the lamp, but he managed to dodge it despite carrying a tray of food.
This can’t be happening, this can’t possibly be happening.
“Rosalie?” His voice was soft. Stepping into the light, his expression was a blend of concern and something I couldn’t quite decipher. His dark curls were disheveled, and his eyes were clouded with a mixture of anxiety and… tenderness.
What the fuck.
I stared at him. He was the last person I expected to see. I backed against the wall, trying to keep the distance between us as far as possible.
“Silas? What… what is going on?” I asked, choking back my tears.
No, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening.
He stepped into the room. Bringing the tray to the edge of the bed, he placed it down. A glass of ice water, orange juice, bacon, and french toast were on the tray. All my favorites. The smell nearly made my mouth water but—I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, almost apologetic.
I stared for a moment.
It didn’t make any sense. Silas was my kidnapper? But-but why?
“Get away from me!” I screamed, sprinting past him I attempted to run up the stairs. I was quick, but he was quicker. He grabbed me from behind. Wrapping his arms around my waist he dragged me back down, kicking and screaming.
“Shhh…” Silas cooed, attempting to soothe me.
“You’re okay. You’re in my home, you’re safe here.
I promise. I’m only trying to protect you.
I did all of this just for you… Are you hungry?
I made you breakfast.” He pulled me back into the bed, cradling me.
I tried fighting against him but it was no use, I was only tiring myself and with being hungover nausea crept up my throat again only for me to swallow it back down. “Shhh,” he repeated.
After a few minutes of struggle, I sank into his embrace, too nauseous to fight back.
Slowly, he released me. Allowing me to sit on the bed with him, I scooted into the back corner as far away from him as I possibly could. I stared at him with wide eyes and tears streaming down my face.
My mind was racing. My memory was hazy, and the crippling headache I had wasn’t helping.
“Why am I here?” I didn’t know what to think, but something certainly didn’t feel right about the situation.
I was trapped in his basement with no memory of how I got here, yet at the same time he genuinely seemed concerned for my well-being.
What the fuck.
He raised his hand, combing his fingers through his curls.
“Look, Rosie, you’re not in any danger here.
I promise. I only want to protect you, and keep you safe.
That’s all. I didn’t hurt you, and I won’t hurt you either.
I wouldn’t—I—” He paused. “Please, just… eat your breakfast. It’ll make you feel better, you drank a lot last night. ”
“Silas,” Silent tears fell down my cheeks still.
Please let me go home…
“I only wish to protect you, my love. Here is the best place for me to be able to do that right now,” he replied.
I turned towards the tray of breakfast.
Protect me? Protect me from what?
I don’t understand.
I have ballet today.
Hesitantly, Silas leaned forward, reaching his hand out.
I sat there, sniffling as the tears continued to fall.
“Rosie…” he whispered, carefully wiping my tears with the pads of his thumb.
“Please don’t cry. I’m doing this out of love.
” He pulled his hand away, gesturing to the tray.
“I made this for you. You have no reason to fear me. This isn’t permanent…
just until I figure out how to take better care of you.
” Silas took a piece of bacon, split it in half, and handed a piece to me as he held the other half to him.
You can’t keep me here…
I took the bacon, slowly lifting it to my lips as I watched him eat his half. At least I knew he didn’t tamper with the food, otherwise, he wouldn’t have eaten it. I hesitated before taking a bite of the bacon, and then another, and another until it was gone.
It was delicious.
I couldn’t help but scoot closer towards the tray, slowly eating it bit by bit.
“That's my girl,” Silas smiled, watching me eat.
“When can I go home?” I asked between bites.
“This is your home now, Rosalie,” his bottom lip quivered. “I promise I’ll take good care of you. You don’t have to be sad anymore. I’m right here, when you’re ready.”
I don’t understand.
I stared at him for a moment, still trying to make sense of everything.
The way he was so kind and caring yet he had me locked down here in his basement—I just didn’t know what to think.
I had so many questions, but I wasn’t sure where to begin or what to even do.
Was I crazy to think that maybe being kidnapped wasn’t so bad?
All my favorite foods and kind words and —
If I’m complacent… he won’t hurt me.
“When you’re done with your breakfast… you can get cleaned up, take a shower, wash your hair, whatever you want to do. Get changed and then… we can talk or, if you’d rather watch a movie, we can. Or, if you’d rather try to sleep off your hangover, that’s okay too.”
Slowly, I nodded. Not knowing what to say, I chose to do things one step at a time.