Chapter Five: The First Rebellion
Jamie's POV
I wake up and for one stupid second everything's quiet. In soft sheets, huge bed. Sunlight pouring through giant windows.
Then it slams into me like a truck.
The gun…Mark dropping…The needle in my neck.
I jackknife upright, heart pounding so hard my ribs hurt.
Clink.
The tiny sound makes me flinch so bad I almost fall off the bed.
He's just… sitting there.
In the corner. In a chair. Sipping coffee like a normal person.
Watching me.
'How long has he been watching me sleep?'
My skin crawls so bad I wanna peel it off.
"You're awake," he says, calm as hell. Like he didn't drug me and kidnap me twelve hours ago. "You must be hungry."
He stands up and walks to the door.
I can't move. My throat is dry like the desert. My whole body feels like it's filled with concrete.
He pauses, hand on the knob, doesn't even look at me.
"Don't bother trying to run. Look outside. Fifty miles of nothing. Wolves. Bears. You'll die out there before you hit a road."
Then he turns, smirks, and it's the coldest thing I've ever seen.
"No one's coming, Jamie. Everyone thinks you're gone. This is your life now."
He leaves.
The door clicks shut.
I'm shaking so bad the bed creaks.
When he comes back with a tray…eggs, toast, fruit, all pretty like we're on vacation…my stomach growls loud enough to hear across the room.
I hate myself.
I stare at the food like it's poison.
If I eat it, I'm accepting this, I'm saying thank you for kidnapping me.
So I don't touch it.
He frowns. Actually frowns. Like he's confused.
"Eat, Jamie."
I shove the tray away. "I want to go home."
Big mistake.
His face changes, the calm mask cracks and something dark crawls out.
He's on me in a second, his hand around my wrist so tight I yelp. Other hand gripping my jaw, forcing me to look at him.
"Eat. Or I make you."
He grabs the spoon.
I panic. I thrash. My arm flies out and the whole tray flips.
Hot eggs hit my forearm.
I scream.
It burns. Oh god it burns so bad…Skin goes red instantly, blisters popping up like bubbles.
He lets go like I'm the one who hurt him.
His eyes go wide. Actually wide.
"I…I didn't mean…" He looks wrecked. Like he's gonna be sick.
He disappears. Comes back with a first-aid kit, hands shaking while he puts cream on it and wraps it.
He's gentle. So gentle it makes me wanna throw up.
I hate how good it feels.
I hate that I lean into it for half a second.
After that he lets me out of the bedroom.
The cabin is huge. All wood and glass and money. And outside?
Nothing…Just trees. Endless fucking trees.
My stomach drops so hard I sway.
I'm searching drawers like a crazy person the second he steps outside.
Nothing. No phone. No keys. Everything locked or empty.
He's thought of everything…Then I hear it.
Clack-clack.
I creep to the window.
He's on the porch loading a rifle like it's the easiest thing in the world.
My knees almost give out.
Of course he's good with guns. He's a murderer, a damn skilled assassin.
I'm breathing against the curtain and he speaks without turning around.
"The curtain moves when you breathe, beautiful."
I step outside because I'm too scared not to.
He slings the rifle over his shoulder and walks right up to me.
Kisses me.
Hard. Possessive. Like he owns my mouth.
I freeze. Then turn my head with this pathetic whimper.
He laughs. Actually laughs. "Be good, pretty boy. I won't be long."
Then he's gone. Swallowed by the trees.
I wait thirty seconds.
Then I run.
Front door—locked….Back door…locked. Every window…sealed.
I'm crying so hard I can barely see.
Then I remember the balcony upstairs.
I sprint. Nearly trip twice.The door opens.
I almost scream from relief.
I stuff a backpack…water, granola bars, hoodie, flashlight.
Then I see the knife block. My hand closes around the biggest one.
It feels heavy. Real.
I climb over the railing.It's a long drop. Then, I land hard, scrape my leg raw, but I don't care.
I run.
Branches slap my face. Roots trip me. I fall twice, skin my palms, keep going.
I don't look back until the cabin disappears.
Just trees. Silence. Cold air burning my lungs.
I stop, chest heaving, knife gripped so tight my knuckles are white.
I'm out. I'm actually out.
But I'm in the middle of nowhere with a psycho who kills people for a living.
I laugh. It comes out broken and wet.
I'm free. Now I just have to survive him.