07 / Pencils

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For nearly a week following her first encounter with Felix's family, Emerson managed to not do anything too reckless or stupid.

Fighting every urge she had to attack Felix and his family violently was painstaking and discouraging, and every day Emerson had to force herself not to blow up at the breakfast table when the conversation turned to her dreaded wedding. She knew Felix wanted her to be grateful that she was even allowed downstairs every morning, but Emerson wouldn't have minded having her breakfast privileges taken away at this point. She hated feeling Felix's unrelenting grip around her arm the whole time, and she hated the way his father and brothers watched her carefully without uttering a word, as if she was a creature they were studying.

The wedding talk grew worse every morning, as Felix blathered on and on about his preferences and details regarding the wedding guests, the venue, the cake, even the bridal party. It was almost impressive, the way he could effortlessly omit his own bride-to-be from their supposed wedding conversation.

"Have you picked out a dress yet?" David asked one day, the question directed at Felix of course, despite the fact that he was certainly not the one who'd be wearing a dress. Emerson felt her anger rising, but resigned to gripping her plastic fork with all her might and staring daggers down at her uneaten omelette.

"Not yet," Felix said, "I think we're doing that next week. I know I want her in something simple, maybe an A-line. Mom, you'll get to help." Eliza beamed at this. Emerson wanted to scream.

I want her in something simple... the conversation may as well have been regarding what Felix was going to dress up his dog in for Halloween. She wasn't even a person in their eyes.

She wagered for awhile whether or not she should ask Felix when they were supposed to get married. It made sense to her to play along until their guards were down, but did she even have time to play along? If she acted complaisant, would Felix even fall for her false acquiescence?

She decided not to ask him anything. She didn't want to risk him thinking she had accepted—or much less, was excited for the wedding—it was better to maintain her steadfast denial of the whole thing.

Everyday, Emerson thought back to the life she'd had for the past twenty-one years. Every aspect of normalcy had been ripped away from her in one day, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was creating a "new normal". Eating breakfast downstairs was part of her routine now, and being allowed to stay in her small room without handcuffs was expected.

She still could barely comprehend that she had been kidnapped—despite the fact that she was living it—because her brain wasn't able to process that it was real life. Instead, she felt as though she was experiencing a simulation; a walking nightmare named Felix who was there to control her every move.

Emerson thought about her parents everyday as well. This helped her to stay calm whenever Felix said things like "our future", or "in a few years", because she knew that outside of this prison she was in, her parents were surely working with the police to bring her home. They had to be. Until the day came when police stormed the place and freed Emerson, she would work tirelessly to escape; to be in her parents' arms once again. She promised herself this.

Apart from hearing the details of the wedding she had no plan to participate in, Emerson's time at the breakfast table throughout the week provided her with new tidbits of information about her captor. Following her first breakfast downstairs, she learned that it wasn't normal for the entire family to be in attendance. David and Eliza were there each day, but the brothers seemed to be infrequent diners; occasionally they would pop in to grab a bite to eat, but not to stay for an entire meal. Emerson also learned that the house they were currently in was, as Felix put it, 'not the real house'.

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