It had been four days since my workout run-in with James, and I had been careful not to make any waves with him since. I was sure to be his perfect pupil. Each day seemed to blend into the others, all just as inconceivable as the next. We had breakfast together at 7:00 sharp. We worked out at 8:00, then he'd instruct me to take a shower. Afterward I'd entertained myself until lunch. A couple days he would eat with me, but the other two days I was grateful to eat alone.

I would have the afternoon to myself until James came up to begin dinner. I wondered what he did when he was downstairs and if he worked. So far, it didn't seem like he left the house for more than a few hours at a time. I would even listen at the door, desperate to hear what was going on downstairs. But all I heard was white noise.

I often used my "quiet time" to crawl into bed and have a good cry. I pictured what my dad must've been doing and hoped he wasn't too devastated. We were all we had left to each other. It was ironic that just days ago I wished Helen, the lady he was going on a date with, didn't exist. Now I hoped she was able to console my father during this time.

I also thought of Lisa and what she was going to do about rent. She didn't make enough to pay for it on her own, and I felt guilty she was in such a bad position. Of course, it wasn't my fault, but I felt terrible nonetheless.

Without the two of them, no one would ever notice I was missing. I could've been sucked into the abyss and hardly anyone would miss me . . . Pity party for one, please.

No matter what was going on during the day, the two of us were together for breakfast and dinner. The evenings were a bit different, though. James was always so relaxed after dinner and ready to have fun. I felt like his Stepford wife—expected to be behave perfectly.

One night we watched a movie together, at his insistence. I sat there and played dead, watching "my p's and q's." I couldn't even remember what the movie was about afterward and counted down the minutes until I could retreat into my bedroom. The next night he insisted we play cards.

If the circumstances weren't what they were, the card night would've been a blast. James seemed like a regular kick-back guy looking for a good time. He cracked jokes, loved to laugh, and even let me drink wine. In fact, we went through almost two bottles that night. I would've had even more, but he stopped me after the third glass. I cherished the lightheadedness. Welcome back, dear friend.

After cards, James talked to me about the numerous games that he had downstairs in the closet—anything from Balderdash to Apples to Apples. He apparently was a big game person.

"You like to play games, too, right?" James asked. But he already knew the answer. He knew everything.

I was dragging the next morning. I had forgotten to drink my customary large glass of water before bed and didn't have access to Excedrin. I dragged through our workout the next morning. I didn't want to tell James, fearing he wouldn't let me drink anymore. The alcohol was a salvation for me, allowing me to escape my problems, only for a moment. I welcomed any reprieve, no matter how small.

"You okay?" James asked as I stumbled onto the treadmill.

"Yeah, I'm just a bit tired."

"We did have a late night. We'll have to cut it short next time."


My eyes widened. "Nah, that's okay. I'm fine. Maybe we could just start our workout later next time we stay up late," I hinted.

"Maybe. We'll see." He continued his repetitions with the weights.

I tried to ignore how in shape James was. He was so toned without being too toned, muscle upon muscle. If only he wasn't a felon. I tried thinking of something else, anything else.

The strange thing was the more time I spent with James, the more I was feeling my fear ease. We had been together for over a week, and he was nothing but nice to me. I was beginning to feel a bizarre acceptance for him that I couldn't explain. I knew people would never understand it. Hell, I didn't understand it myself.

But James was my life-line. Without him, I would die.

Having earned a bachelor's degree in social work, I completed many sociology and psychology classes. I was familiar with a condition called Stockholm Syndrome, where hostage victims began feeling empathy and positive feelings toward their captors. I remembered cases we discussed in class, such as Elizabeth Smart, the fourteen-year-old girl who was abducted from her Utah bedroom in 2002. She lived with her abductors for nine months, not too far from her own home. She never tried to escape, even though she had countless opportunities. After her abductors were captured, she worried for their safety and didn't want to see them punished. There were so many cases like this, Patty Hearst being one of the prime examples. Another was Jaycee Dugard, who lived with her captors for eighteen years and had two kids with him before being discovered.

I feared becoming like these victims. With my background in sociology, I should be smarter than that. Surely, I could stop this dysfunctional attachment from happening to me.

After we were done with the workout, James said, "OK, I want you to go take your shower, get dressed, then we're having a visitor."

"A visitor?"

"Yes. Dr. Richard Manning is coming today," he said, as if that was going to mean something to me.

"Who is that?"

"Our doctor."

I hesitated at my bedroom door.

"No worries, Corrine. He's only coming to give you a physical."

"But . . . I don't need a physical. I had one a couple months ago," I lied.

"Well, you're going to have another one then. Don't worry. He's nice."

Don't fight. Comply.

With that, James grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and left, locking the door behind him.

I didn't need a doctor. I didn't need a physical. There had to be something more to this. I felt that all too familiar pit in my stomach but went to take a shower as instructed. I got dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, not knowing what would be appropriate to wear for an in-house physical.

The day before, James had told me he wanted me to style my hair and apply make-up everyday, but I was too nervous to bother. I had other things to worry about. Plus, I wasn't his damn doll.

I climbed back into bed, wet hair and all, and tried to focus on other things, anything other than this Dr. Manning. A few minutes later the door opened and in walked Dan, James, and an older man. I hadn't seen Dan since the day they brought me home. A century ago.

The doctor was a very tall, distinguished man with greying hair. He wore an expensive suit that reminded me of the pompous, rich lawyers I saw in my job—my old job. He carried a doctor's bag in his left hand, and the three of them were chuckling about something as they walked into my bedroom.

"Hi, Corrine. Good to see you again," Dan said with a big smile on his face that gave me chills. All I could remember was him backhanding me.

"Corrine, you're not ready," James said, disapprovingly.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Oh, that's okay," Dr. Manning said, reassuringly. "I like the au naturale look. I'm Dr. Manning, Corrine." He shook my hand firmly. His hand was unusually soft for a man's.

"How are you doing today?"

"Fine," I lied. The cordiality reared its ugly head again.

"Should we leave, Doc?" James inquired.

"No, that's not necessary. Unless you'd rather."

Dan and James looked at each other and decided to sit on the other side of the bed while Dr. Manning sat down next to me.

"So, how have you been feeling?" He opened his bag, inspecting its contents.

"Just peachy," I said, the sarcasm spilling out before I could stop it. But a stupid question deserved a stupid answer. It was a knee-jerk response, really.

"She's a funny one," Dr. Manning chuckled. "A spitfire."

James shot me a look warning me to watch it if I didn't want a repeat stomach blow, or worse. I embarrassed him by misbehaving.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, no, that's quite all right, young lady." He tapped me a couple times on my leg. "I know you're having a hard time adjusting. OK, well, let's get down to business, shall we? I'm here today to give you a physical and a clean bill of health. So, let me start by performing some standard diagnostics."

He took out his stethoscope first and listened to my heart, both on my chest and back. I tensed to his touch, but I dutifully followed his instructions. Next he checked my throat with a tongue depressor, my ears with an otoscope, and my neck with his hands.

"It all looks good. Now, lie down and put your hands above your head please. We're going to do a breast exam."

"What? I don't need a breast exam."

"Corrine, I'm not going to hurt you. I am just looking to make sure there are no lumps in your breasts. If you'd feel more comfortable, you can keep your t-shirt on this time."

This time.

I didn't move.

"Corrine, lie down," Dan said in his don't-fuck-with-me voice I hadn't missed. I lay down.

Dr. Manning was really gentle, just like he promised, and, thankfully, I didn't have to lift up my shirt. It didn't feel any different than when my gynecologist did it—uncomfortable in any circumstance.

"OK, it looks fine. Make sure you're performing breast exams every month, preferably right after your period. That's when you'll be able to feel lumps better. Be sure to make round, sweeping motions, going from the outside in, all the way in to your nipples."

I could tell he had given this speech to many of his female patients. But I was mortified anyway.

"OK, the last thing we need to complete for your physical is to collect a blood sample and run a CBC on you."

"CBC? What's that?"

"It stands for complete blood count. Nothing to worry about. It's a very common blood test that will let me know about your platelets, your blood cell counts, how your thyroid is doing, if you're anemic. Things like that."

He took out a needle and a few vials and began putting on rubber gloves. A quick flash of heat coursed through my body.

"I can't do this!" I inched to the other side of the bed where James and Dan were sitting and felt lightheaded.

"Don't worry. I'm very good with needles."

"No, no, no. I have a fear of needles. I can't stand shots!" I flipped over the sheets, but Dan stopped me.

"Corrine, he'll make this real quick," Dan said.

"I can't, Dan," I pleaded with him. "I swear, I feel like I'm going to pass out just seeing that needle!" I looked at Dr. Manning. "Really, is this necessary, Dr. Manning? Do you have to do these tests? Can't we skip this part?"

He raised his eyebrows to the men. James and Dan looked at one another.

Dan said in a lowered voice, "Well, it's your call, James. But having gone through this already myself, I think it's important. It can indicate if there is a problem going on you don't know about. And she needs to be tested for HIV anyway. But it's up to you."

I would only need to be tested for HIV for one reason—sex.

"I don't have AIDS!" I yelled.

"I agree. Besides, she'll probably have future tests and shots anyway," James said.

"Oh, come on. I've done everything you've wanted me to do so far," I cried.

"Corrine, I'll be as quick as I can be, okay?" Dr. Manning said.

I tried to stand, but Dan pushed me back down on the bed. James and Dan went into automatic mode. They switched positions with James holding down my head and chest, and Dan, with his sheer size, had no problem holding down my hands and legs. He had his knee bearing down on my stomach, so I could hardly scream or breathe. I was suffocating under a mound of rocks.

"Stop, Dan, please," I pushed out.

Surprisingly, he looked back at me with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Corrine. Really, I am."

"Hold her arm more still," Dr. Manning instructed. Dan shifted his weight more to the right so he could hold down my arm. Dr. Manning swabbed the area and told me something about being quick. I couldn't hear him, though.

Then I felt a very sharp pain and knew the needle was in. As irrational as the phobia was, knowing a sharp, foreign object was piercing me was one of the scariest things I could think of. It felt like the process took minutes. But it was probably seconds for him to switch and fill a few vials.

Dr. Manning put a cotton ball on top, pulled out the needle, and put on a Band-Aid. James and Dan slowly released me, making sure I wasn't going to retaliate. Dr. Manning bent my arm and told me to keep it that way for a few minutes.

I lay shaking and crying uncontrollably. Within seconds, things could turn so wrong when I was doing my best to comply. James gently tucked the sheet and blanket around me, but I hardly noticed.

"I think we'll forego the rest of the physical, gentlemen, don't you agree?" Dr. Manning inquired.

"Yes, yes. That's fine."

What else was there?

The doctor began packing up his things. The men started walking him out.

"I'm really sorry that didn't go better," James said to the doctor at the door.

"No, nothing to apologize for. These things happen. She did well, under the circumstances," Dr. Manning consoled.

"Who knew she had a phobia of needles?" Dan added.

"I guess we don't know everything about her yet," James chuckled apologetically.

I lay back on the bed, taking deep breaths.

"Well, I think you've done just fine. I'm proud of you, James. You've done well in your selection. You'll fit right in."

"So, when do you think she'll be ready for her first outing?" James asked.

"Oh, I don't know. You'll have to see how things go. But I would hope Sophia and I can see you in a couple weeks at B.F.O.'s Thanksgiving get together."

"Hmm, I hope so, but that seems so soon," James said.

"Well, the good thing is it's only ninety minutes away. And there will be others there to help you," Dr. Manning said. "But, if you can't make it, we'll see you the next time, I'm sure."

James unlocked the door. "After you, Doc."

"Why, thank you."

With that, they were gone.



How creepy was that? Thanks for reading! Please feel free to make any comments and constructive criticism. I hope you go on to the next chapter. Thank you!