Locked( Book 1)

Chapter 5

I couldn't believe this. He was a little older and born the month before my birthday. He was as young as me. But Why did he bring me to his room? He couldn't even look at me because I upset him. For whatever reason. I continued my search. Hoping to find any more information. But I couldn't find anything. It was a dead end. Every trace of him was his license.

I wandered into the bathroom, closing the door. The shower was a walk-in; there was a deep tub to bathe in and a vanity sink. All stone. It was beautiful. I looked at myself in the mirror. Realizing I needed a shower and sleep. I wasn't in danger, so taking a shower should be okay.

I walk into the room, looking through the dresser. He was a little small. Maybe he had sweats I could wear until someone could wash my clothes. I found a white T-shirt and some boxers, which would do for now. I couldn't find any sweats. He didn't know how to dress down.

After getting my clothes, I got in the shower. I needed it. There was a small fold-out bench, so I unfolded it and sat down. Letting the water hit me and pour down. I let out a long sigh before tears streamed my face with water. How could this be happening? Kidnapped...no hope of rescue. And I still wasn't sure he wouldn't kill us. But he didn't seem like the type. Psychologically, he appeared misplaced. But I couldn't say that for sure.

I found some regular body wash and washed my hair and body. He could send someone to get some toiletries, especially since we would be here a while. Research takes time. And the boys would take time because they didn't want anyone to be killed after all was over.

I got out, wrapping the towel hanging on the rack around me. I found a smaller towel and patted my hair dry. Once my hair was damp and not drenched in water, I dressed in the clothes I had seen. The boxers were everyday boxer briefs, but they fit me like shorts.

I found a brush in the pantry beside the vanity. Luckily, he had one. I brushed my damp hair out, sat it on the sink, and walked out of the bathroom. I didn't realize the sun was setting. It was already dinner time. I hadn't had lunch, but I wasn't famished after breakfast. I had lost my appetite with Derek being a prick to my sisters. I was more angry than scared now.

I sat on the chase for a while, trying to understand this. I sighed, watching the sun set in what I could describe as my prison. It was a prison. I was still locked up in here. Derek made sure I would have to find someone else to get out or ask for anyone, for that matter.

"How does he sleep at night," I ask myself. Just thinking it over. I didn't understand.

"I don't," I heard him say beside me. I had yet to listen to him come in. But it was Derek. He was in just his suit pants and white button-up, which he had unbuttoned. And his tie was barely hanging. I roll my eyes, looking back at the window. He doesn't say anything hateful this time.

"I figured you would be more comfortable in a room with a bed," he said. I didn't pay any attention to him. I looked down at the chase.

"I see you found the shower and my clothes," he said. I looked at him. But his face was as regular as it was the day we met. He must've forgotten about this morning.

"I see you've had a bad case of amnesia," I spit at him. He nods and chuckles.

"Okay, I deserved that, but like I said, I have a job to do," he said, taking his tie off. I turned my head away while he changed his clothes. Putting a pair of black stretch pants and a maroon-colored T-shirt on. Once he was finished, he came to face me. I didn't want to look at him, but he was right in my face, close enough.

"Look, princess, I am sorry about this morning, but it was the truth, and you know that deep down, everything I said, none of it was a lie," he said. I looked down at him. Glaring into him. He was a poor excuse for a man.

"Hmm, we'll then let me spit some truth; you're a pig, and not the good kind, the Guinea kind; you're being played by someone higher up, and you take orders from them, and it doesn't matter how many times you tell me it's your job, being a prick isn't in the handbook, so if you don't mind, go away and shut the door so I can sleep unless you're planning to murder through the night," I said.

Finally, having enough. I could see his nostrils flaring. He was upset. I was upset and hurt his feelings. I made him mad. I could see the disappointment on his face. The truth split him down the middle. And that was only the beginning of what I had to say. I could've said so much more. And he was lucky I didn't. He would have shot me himself. Or the reason I made him angry is because he knew it was true and was being challenged to face the truth. He looks away. He pursed his lips and stood up. I walked to the door and stopped. He's not turning around, just turning his head to speak before he leaves.

"I'm not the monster; I'm the only thing standing in the way of one."