I heard voices far away before I even opened my eyes. I thought I was dreaming, but then it became clear it was James and Dan. They were too far away to decipher clearly. I turned over to my right side, and then realized I wasn't in the van anymore. I opened my eyes and discovered I was in a large bed that must've been a California king. My head was on two down pillows, and there were two more pillows to my right. A big, beautiful comforter was on top of me, on top of what felt like very expensive sheets, at least a 500-thread count.

I looked around, trying to gather my senses. I was in someone's bedroom, a very nice-looking room. Not only was the bed fashionable, but the rest of the furniture was a matching set made of dark wood. The whole bedroom was a style I would buy for myself, if I could've ever afforded it.

There was a bathroom directly across from the end of the bed. A closet was to the right of the bathroom. All in all, it was a nice bedroom. The bedroom door was to my left, and it was open to the rest of the house. That's when it hit me James and Dan were about fifty feet away, standing in the kitchen.

I lay my head back down on the pillow and tried to comprehend my new reality. So, this is what James called home. This must've been my bedroom. This must've been James's house—our house. No, his house. This was not my future.

Simon and Garfunkel was playing in the other room, and I could hear one of them, I thought James, singing along.

"I am a rock. I am an iiiiiisland," he sang.

I rubbed my eyes.

"Knock, knock," James said cheerily as he stood at the bedroom door. "I hope you had a good rest."

"How long have I been . . . asleep?"

"A couple hours, I think."

"Oh."

"Do you want the small grand tour?"

James was practically giddy. He motioned for me to get out of bed. I stood up, still groggy and disoriented. I was still in the same sweats and blouse, so at least there were no new surprises in that area.

"First, let me show you your bathroom."

I followed him into the bathroom, and it was a standard one—sink, toilet, and shower. Just like the bedroom, it was nicely decorated with plush towels and a granite sink.

"Nice, huh?" It was a rhetorical question. "Let's check out your closet."

He swung open the right side of the closet door as if it was a big presentation. It was full of clothes, all different styles and occasions. It had one of those closet organizers inside with various shelves that held shoes and more clothing. Someone was really into fashion, and I wondered why I would ever have the need for all of this. I simply nodded to him in agreement, overwhelmed by it all.

"Let's go check out the rest of the house."

Dismissively, he closed the closet door and walked out of the bedroom. I hesitantly followed suit.

We walked into the entryway and family room. Everything looked so new and untouched, like a model home. A large flat screen TV was mounted on the wall. There was an L-shaped brown couch and a large wooden coffee table with two pretty, beveled pieces of square glass in the middle. In the far corner of the family room was some exercise equipment—a treadmill and free-standing weights. The family room was decorated similarly to the bedroom, very tasteful and modern. I really liked the style—if it were in Lisa's and my apartment.

"Nice, huh?" he asked.

Again, I nodded my head in agreement.

"Thanks." James was clearly pleased with himself.

What did he want, a damn award? He must've been in charge of the decorating. I couldn't care less. I wasn't going to be there long, anyway.

A dark wood dining room table was in the corner, next to the kitchen. It had some flowers on top of a doily in the middle of the table.

"And last but not least, let's check out the kitchen."

I followed him into the kitchen where Dan was cooking. The kitchen was a bit small but had all of the necessities—a refrigerator, oven, microwave, toaster, and sink. Above the sink was the kitchen nook that looked over the dining room table and family room. It had two stools tucked underneath. An iPod and speakers were sitting on the counter playing. An R.E.M. song was playing. Another band I liked.

"You're welcome to cook as much as you want," James said.

"I don't cook," I answered dryly.

"You don't like to cook or don't know how to cook?" Dan asked.

"A little bit of both, I guess."

"Well, I'll have to teach you some tricks," James said. "I'm not too bad in the kitchen, if I say so myself."

"Ha," Dan joked.

"Hey, you've never gotten food poisoning from my cooking, have you?"

"I'll give you that much," Dan said. "But, honestly Corrine, he is a really good cook. You certainly won't starve."

I could think of worse deaths.

There was an awkward lull in the conversation, and I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. I stared down at the ground with my arms crossed against my chest and leaned against the wall, still a bit groggy.

"Well, dinner will be ready in about ten minutes," Dan announced. He seemed out of place in this small kitchen, his body size taking up most of the space.

"Great. I'm starved. Thanks for hanging around, man. Don't think I could've done it without you," James said.

"Hey, anything for my best friend," Dan replied. They shook hands and did a side hug like most guys do who don't want to fully commit to a regular hug. "I better go drive Tyler home. We'll will catch up with you later." He headed toward the door.

"Sure thing. Thanks again." James walked over to the front door, taking out a set of keys from his pocket, and sticking one into the deadbolt. That was when it occurred to me I was locked in. Obviously I would be, I guessed, but it hadn't registered before. Getting a tour of "my house" was so surreal I hadn't paid attention to the logistics of it all. I suddenly felt claustrophobic.

James opened the door about halfway, just enough for Dan to slip through. I peaked around the door the best I could, and I was surprised to see a carpeted stairway leading downward to something. So this wasn't a house. This was just an upstairs to a house. My space was about 800 square feet, so it was probably too small to be its own house. This was more like a one-bedroom apartment. James locked the deadbolt after Dan walked down the stairs.

"What's downstairs?" I asked, not sure if James would tell me.

"The rest of the house."

"Oh."

"But I'll be up here with you most of the time. Well, when I'm not working, that is." He smiled at me, as if that was supposed to comfort me. I would've much rather been by myself. "And you can go downstairs in the future. If you play your cards right."

James walked back into the kitchen and checked in the oven. "This looks about ready. Let's get the table ready, shall we? You'll find the plates and silverware on the table.

Again, not a request. So, I went over and set the table for two, which didn't take much time at all. When I finished, James brought over the casserole dish and set it on the trivet. I stood back about ten feet, near the bedroom, unsure of what my role was supposed to be in this madness.

"Looks good, doesn't it? Baked ziti, your favorite."

"My favorite?"

It was one of my favorites, but how the hell did the bastard know that?

"Isn't it?"

"Is it?" I bantered.

James shrugged it off and sat down at the table, as if we did this routine every day.

When I didn't move, he said, "Corrine, sit down and join me."

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." My legs didn't seem to want to move, either.

"That's okay. You don't have to eat. But, you do have to sit with me for every meal. So come and take your seat, please."

I walked slowly over and sat in the seat across from him.

"Let's say grace," James said and held out his hands for me to hold onto.

I practically laughed at the irony of this man praying. I was in some alternate universe. Hesitantly, I held his hands with my clammy ones and kept my commentary to myself. His hands were warm and surprisingly soft. I wondered if he got manicures. James bowed his head and closed his eyes while I watched him lead the prayer.

"Lord, we'd like to thank you on this blessed day. You have allowed us to finally come together as a family. I want to welcome Corrine into our fold and hope you bless us and teach her Your ways, in Your name. Amen."

Truly psychotic. What demented universe had I gotten myself trapped in?

I released his hands the minute I had the chance.

"I'm starved," James announced. He began serving the ziti on his plate.

I sat there, completely dumbfounded. My stomach was busy doing flips. The music was still playing low in the background, and an old Eric Clapton song played, "Change the World."

James grabbed my plate, but I reminded him I wasn't hungry.

"I want you to try just a bit. Dan made it especially for you. I want to see if you like it."

He scooped a small serving onto my plate and helped himself to the salad and wine. I wanted to down that entire bottle all by myself. But my stomach hurt so badly. Wine was a no-go.

I picked up my fork and poked around at my food.

"So do you think the Green Bay Packers have any chance this year?" James asked.

I looked at him as if he had asked me if I'd ever been on the moon. "Wh-What?"

"I asked if you thought the Packers have any chance of winning this year. You like football, right?"

Again, he knew. He knew.

I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing. But that didn't stop him.

"Well, it's still early in the season. I know they haven't started off strong, but they're making a big comeback."

I took a bite of the ziti, but I tasted nothing.

"And I think Rodgers is having a good season as quarterback, don't you think?"

My mouth was agape.

"No?" he asked, as if this was the most common conversation ever.

"What the hell are you doing?" I finally blurted.

"What do you mean?"

That made me even angrier. "I mean, really? Am I in a Twilight Zone episode or something? Y-You kidnap me, beat the shit out of me, bring me to who knows where in Kansas. And then you pray? Are you fucking kidding me? While you play Ozzy and Harriett, I would like some answers here!"

I slammed my fist down onto the table harder than I had intended. Tears trailed down my cheeks.

Silence. James seemed uncomfortable, even nervous, with my outburst. He pushed his plate forward, then crossed his arms on top of the table.

"Corrine," James began with a low voice, "I realize this must be a huge change to get used to in such a short amount of time."

My anger unfolded into despair. I put my head in my hands and began a deep cry.

"I don't want to hurt you," James continued softly, placing his hand on my forearm. "I want us to become a family. Of all of the women I looked at, I picked you as the one because you showed so much promise and love. I really admire your career in social work and your volunteer work you do with the pregnant teens. You're a wonderful person."

I kept sobbing uncontrollably into my arms.

"We are a family now. You're here to stay. As long as you behave, I promise I'll never hurt you. I know it'll be a big adjustment for you, but once you get to know me, you'll love it here."

He handed me a tissue. I lifted up my head and tried to stop crying. Tears were going to get me nowhere. Certainly not out of this hellhole.

"Listen, Corrine," James added. "I'm not like those kidnappers you hear about in the news. The whacko ones who hurt people. I would never do that to you. Trust me. I just want to get to know you and be a family is all."

"And when do I get to go home?" I asked in between sobs.

No answer.

"When do I get to go home?" I yelled.

"You don't."

I ran from the table, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom. I barely made it before I vomited, choking through my screams.

After the little I vomited, I felt drained and exhausted. Yet the waves of fits, sobbing, and nausea kept coming. I was not normally an emotional person. Usually, I was the one in control, not the other way around. Maybe that was why I liked being in social work. I was the one making important decisions for the sake of the children's safety.

Now, I was utterly helpless, a child stuck in an abusive home with no CPS to save me.

After I felt empty and dead, I flushed the toilet, mustered the energy to stand up, and walked over to the bed. There was a two-piece pajama set sitting on the bed, and the comforter was turned down on one end. I didn't have the strength to change clothes, so I crawled into bed wearing the sweats Dan gave me and the blouse I was wearing for court—what seemed a million years ago.

In no time, I fell into a restless sleep, full of boogeymen and unanswered questions.



So, what do you think will happen to Corrine? What's James's deal? Let me know what you think and please vote if you liked it. Thank you for reading!