Later in the afternoon, I looked through my closet for a "nice dress," as James had requested. It was much easier to look through my closet now that all of my size twelve clothes were whisked away. I wasn't really wearing my size ten clothes anymore, either, but I hadn't packed them up yet.

It surprisingly felt good to look good. James had recently bought me a blue silky-type dress that went to just above my knees. I had already worn the red dress the other night, so this was the next stylish choice.

James came in around six, bags in hand. It was a familiar scene. He was dressed nicely, which wasn't unusual for him.

"Good evening," James said as he came in and gave me a kiss. "Don't you look beautiful."

"Thank you. I like this dress you picked out for me."

"Are you hungry?" James asked.

"Always," I replied. "What are we having?"

"How about some lobster, salad, garlic bread, and chocolate cake for dessert?"

"Mmm. Sounds delicious," I said.

When we finally sat down to eat, James said grace.

"Dear Lord, we'd like to thank you for the wonderful feast You've placed before us this evening. We have so much to be thankful for, Lord, and we ask for your blessings. Amen."

The food was delicious. We enjoyed the meal, cracking jokes and having a good time. All in all, the day was magical. I couldn't have asked for more, except maybe for pure freedom. But even that was so inconceivable, I always pressed it down to the darkest recesses of my mind.

It must've been past midnight by the time we were done with dinner, dessert, and another movie. I told him to leave the mess, and I would clean it up myself. But James insisted on helping me.

We cleared off the dining room table, loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned up the kitchen, all without saying anything, just listening to a Lady Gaga song playing on my iPod. I turned to put a dish in the sink at the same time James turned from the sink, and we collided, sending the dish crashing to the floor. We both laughed. He leaned in to kiss me. I froze.

He pressed against me, pushing me against the counter and kicking the broken dish pieces aside. I held on to the countertop, anxiously waiting for the ordeal to be over. He wrapped his arms behind me, placing my arms around his neck. Maybe that gave him the illusion that this "make out session" was real.

He again forced his tongue in my mouth, methodically and slowly working his way around. I was trapped and felt like I couldn't breathe.

Finally James separated and said, "Uh, I better go before I can't stop." Then he whispered, "Thank you."

I walked him to the door, and the magical day came to an end with James locking the deadbolt behind him.

I couldn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned, letting the memories of James's kiss linger on my lips. How much longer was this going to go on like this? And how was I going to get out of it? I wondered if I could earn his trust enough to gain some freedom. I thought of Sophia's life and how she was able to come and go as she pleased. She was even part of the community as the doctor's beautifully, poised wife.

I could be that person, too, I thought. There had to be a way to slowly convince James to let me have some freedom. I wondered if it would be possible before our relationship escalated to the inevitable sexually active stage. Or should I say rape? Because that's exactly what it would be.

It was only a matter of time. And time was running out.

* * *

As the days rolled on toward February, James and I were getting to know each other better. Aside from the times where he was physical with me, I enjoyed our time together. As strange as that sounded.

The best part was he often invited me downstairs. I loved those times the most. And with every trip downstairs, I felt I was getting one step closer to finding a way out of this hell.

The common areas downstairs weren't much larger than mine, but I felt freer when I was there. James trusted me, at least somewhat. Most of all, there were windows. Light! Life!

We also had a Valentine's Day party coming up to attend at the Mannings'. I was really looking forward to that. Yet another opportunity to see the possibilities. Another step forward.

Not only was I allowed to hang out downstairs, one cold day James asked if I'd be interested in helping him with his chores. Outside!

"Of course I will," I said.

I couldn't change my clothes fast enough. I slipped on my new leather gloves James had purchased for me as I ran back downstairs to catch up to him.

As James and I walked out to the barn, he told me, "We have a cow, a couple horses, about a dozen chickens, a dog, and three pigs."

"Wow, that's a lot to manage," I said. "How do you do it and work at the same time?"

"It's not too difficult," James said. "I tell myself I can't go upstairs to see you until I'm done out here. And that makes me finish quicker." He gave me a big grin and kissed me.

The dog, his name was Ginger on account of his sandy color, ran up to greet us.

"Besides, many people in this part of Kansas have a lot more land and more animals than we do, but this is a good start. I hope to build things up a lot bigger than this."

"Sounds like a lot for one person."

"Well, maybe you can start helping me." He winked at me and put his arm around my shoulder.

"Really? I would love to." That feeling hit me again. Another door was opening. Earn his trust.

Focus, Corrine. One step at a time.

He opened the barn door for me, and I stepped into the smell of hay, animal, and manure. I welcomed the warm reprieve from the cold.

"This here is Picasso," James announced as we walked over to a horse's stall. Ginger tailed behind him. "He's my pride and joy, this boy."

He patted the horse on the neck and rubbed him down his back. I didn't know much about a horse's intelligence, but I could've sworn Picasso felt the same for James.

"Why do you call him Picasso?" I stood outside of the stable, feeling completely out of place. I had never even been in a real barn before, other than at the county fair.

"As corny as it sounds, when I found him, he was as beautiful to me as a Picasso painting . . . Complex and beautiful. And he's definitely fit his name over the years."

"How long have you had him?"

"Oh, about eight years now."

"You've lived here that long?" I asked.

"No, I was living about an hour away from here. Picasso was my friend's horse's foal."

James began brushing Picasso. He seemed to really enjoy grooming him, and I admired the pride he took in his job. I knew James was intelligent, but I never looked at him as knowing about things like art. And seeing him in this element, he had a demeanor about him that showed he was nothing but genuine. He cared about things, including the farm.

As he led me around the farm and showed me various chores, I felt a strange gratitude. James worked so hard, and he somehow arranged it where he could work from home. I thought of Sophia and how lonely she must've felt with a doctor's long hours. As much as I didn't want to see my abductor, the human need to be with someone was even stronger. Even Jaycee Dugard, after everything that bastard Phillip Garrido did to her, had said she yearned for his visits, as long as it wasn't for "the sex."

I helped James with his chores for the rest of the morning, and I enjoyed it immensely. Not for the physical challenge—I actually didn't like that part, finding it even more taxing than my workouts. I found myself loving it for the normality of it all, for being given this little piece of freedom and trust. Standing there raking up hay and animal shit, I didn't feel like the Corrine Whitman who was abducted on November eighth. I was just Corrine Whitman, an average girl cleaning the barn.

* * *

The next morning felt as if it would be like any other—a workout with James, breakfast, then a shower. My life was pretty routine, with a sprinkle of surprises here and there.

But during breakfast James wasn't talking or joking around nearly as much as normal. Something was wrong.

"Listen, Corrine," James began, "I've been thinking. I—I've been so happy with your . . . progress. It feels like we're really close now, and I couldn't be happier with how things are going."

"Uh oh. There's a but in there," I said.

"Well, no, not a but. I just think it's, you know, time to take our relationship to the next level," he continued.

"To the next level?" Like I didn't know what that meant. Maybe I was stalling the inevitable.

"Well, yes, the next level. There's a definite connection between us. I'd, uh, like to explore that further," James fumbled.

He was clearly nervous, but not nearly as much as I was.

"So, um, I'm going to have you see Dr. Manning to get on the pill."

There it was—my biggest fear. Yet, I knew it was coming sooner or later.

I didn't know what to say. I felt sick to my stomach and couldn't eat another bite.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, as I got up and cleared my plate.

"Wait. We're not done talking yet."

I didn't say anything, put away my dish in the dishwasher, walked into my bedroom, and slammed the door.

Oh, my God, the day had come. Of course, I knew it would but hoped it wouldn't. I tried hard to push it all out of my mind as I took a shower. I tried not to obsess on how to get out of there before it was too late.

After I got dressed, I listened for James out in the family room or kitchen. I didn't hear anything, so I peaked my head out. Thankfully, I was left with my own thoughts. James didn't join me for lunch, either. Maybe he went into work. Even though he trusted me more, he still kept me guessing on his work schedule.

I hoped my solace would continue into the evening, but as night approached I heard James climb up the stairs. I scrambled up from the couch, ran into the bedroom and shut the door. My heart pounded.

I heard a lot of scrambling in the kitchen and James's familiar whistling. My stomach was in knots, waiting for the ball to drop.

James knocked on my door and opened it without waiting for an invitation.

"Hi," he said. "Dinner's ready."

"Oh, thanks, but I'm not hungry."

"Then come sit at the table with me."

"I don't feel up to it."

"You know the rules, Corrine. You don't have to eat, but you need to sit at the table."

I rolled my eyes at him. How quickly he fell back to the rules.

We were having chicken tacos, one of my favorites, but I couldn't bear to eat. Just smelling food made my stomach ache more. I sat there, staring at my empty plate and taking small sips of my water. James served some wine. I was normally quick to hold out my glass, but I turned it down.

James ate in silence for a while. Until . . .

"So, Corrine. Back to what we were discussing at breakfast."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said.

"I understand that. It's not exactly an easy topic for me, either."

"Good. Then we're in agreement." I stood up from the table to head to my room.

"Whoa, now," James said, standing up from his seat. "Sit. Down."

I hesitantly sat back down, and so did James.

Once he was satisfied with my compliance, he said, "This is a really tough conversation, probably the toughest we've had to have so far."

"But, see," I began, "we don't have to have this conversation, James. Things have been going well between us. Why ruin it?"

"I don't plan on ruining it, Corrine. On the contrary, I'd like to heighten my relationship with you." 


"Trust me, it won't improve things," I corrected. "In fact, I can guarantee you that you will ruin everything between us if you don't drop it."

I was fooling myself if I thought this was ever going to work. And even as I spoke the words, I wondered what the hell I was doing. I wasn't going to change anything, and if I had any chance at all of earning his trust, I had to comply. Including being raped.

Keep your eye on the prize, Corrine.

He seemed unsure of what to say and let out a big sigh.

"Look, Corrine," James said, softly, "this is one of those things that just isn't negotiable. Like working out in the mornings. You didn't want to do it, but you did. And now, you enjoy it, and you're looking great."

Did he really think there was any chance I'd like him to rape me? That maybe I'd get used to it?

I scoffed. "So, what you're saying is I don't have a choice?" I said smugly.

He rubbed his forehead. "Yes, that's what I'm saying. Your appointment with Dr. Manning is on Friday."

Two days away.

"And what if I don't cooperate with this little plan of yours?"

James tossed his fork onto his plate in exasperation. "Corrine, do you really want to go there?"

"I'm simply hypothesizing is all."

"Well, you know the answer," he said, irritated. He was running out of patience with me.

I rubbed my temples. I had a serious migraine brewing and no way to make it go away.

"So, you think raping me is supposed to improve our relationship?" I was beginning to cry.

James fidgeted in his seat. He began rubbing his forehead again.

"It's not rape, Corrine. I love you."

"Let's call it date rape then. Whatever. But I do not give you my consent, and I never will!"

I stood up again, but this time James didn't stop me. I stomped off to my bedroom and slammed the door. I threw myself onto my bed and had a good cry. A while later I heard him leave. I was so relieved to be left alone.



What do you think about how Corrine is handling this? Please leave any comments, including any feedback you'd like. Thank you!