I awoke in pitch darkness and thought for a moment I must be dead. I wasn't sad about it exactly, more like ambivalent. I had no interest in understanding yet another realm.

But then I turned over and saw the alarm clock on the nightstand. It blinked 7:28 a.m. It hit me. Where was the light? There were no windows! No windows in the bedroom. No windows in the kitchen. No windows in the family room.

No light. Trapped. I was trapped. I was going to end up suffocating in a small one-bedroom apartment. I was never going to see the light of day or a full moon again. What was life for a native Southern Californian without the warmth of the sun? I would never see a unique cloud pattern again. I would never see freedom again.

This is your bed now, Corrine. You better get used to it, I said to myself in despair.

"I thought I heard you up." James was suddenly standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a little smile slipping in at the side of his lips. Light from the other room lit up the bedroom.

"Good morning," he said.

I said nothing.

"How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy," I said, glumly.

"I was pretty worried about you last night, you know. You sounded pretty sick."

"Yeah, well, I wonder why."

"No worries. You'll feel better soon. Why don't you go take a shower and get dressed. That always makes me feel better."

James came over to the bed and pulled down the comforter and blanket. It wasn't a request. He was right, though. I felt awful. I hadn't taken a shower in three days. My hair was filthy, I stunk, and my teeth felt like they were growing moss.

I climbed out of the bed, went into the bathroom, and closed the door. All the while he was staring at me, watching my every move. Gross.

The shower felt so good, almost reviving me. My favorite soap, shampoo, and conditioner were on the sill waiting for me. It was an odd coincidence to have the exact same brands I liked at home.

Once I was done, I fell into one of the expensive, thick towels I could never afford. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was staying at a five star hotel. I wondered what James did for a living to support such luxuries. He certainly wasn't a social worker.

I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and the drawers and found everything I needed. Many products were the same brands I purchased at home: Oral-B Soft Bristle toothbrush—Secret Invisible Deodorant (no scent)—Lubriderm Lotion for Dry Skin. It was almost like being at home, sharing a bathroom with Lisa. I stood staring into the cupboard. This was definitely too much of a coincidence.

I put on the plush bathrobe that was hanging on the hook behind the bathroom door and slowly opened the door. The coast was clear, my green light to head to the closet—my closet.

I slid the right door all the way open and stared at my new clothes. I had never been a fashionista, so it really didn't matter to me to have all of these beautiful clothes. Besides, I wondered where in the world I would ever wear some of these nice duds, like a black cocktail dress.

Not to mention, there was no way in hell I was going to fit in them. I looked at the tags—size eight. What in the hell was he thinking? I was a size twelve and hadn't been in an eight since high school. It was just like men not to know anything about women's clothing.

I kept thumbing through the closet and wanted to find a t-shirt and jeans, something that wouldn't call too much attention to myself. I was going right to left, working methodically, and noticing all of the clothes were size eight, then they suddenly turned to size ten. If I was lucky, I could find something baggy in size ten that would fit.

I closed the right closet door and opened up the other side, hoping I could at least find one outfit for today. When I would see James later, I had to somehow tell him I couldn't wear any of these clothes he bought for me.

I gasped. These clothes. My clothes. These clothes on the right side were all mine, the same ones that were stolen from my apartment two weeks ago. The epiphany hit me with so much weight, I folded onto the floor.

That's who broke into my apartment—Tyler, James, and Dan. I racked my brain for the inventory I had given the police officers—clothes, iPod, my mom's ring. I couldn't think of what else. No wonder they knew the products I preferred. I betted the iPod out in the family room was mine.

But why would James want my old things? And if he knew I was a size twelve, why would they buy me clothes in other sizes?

He wanted a perfect little doll. He wanted me to lose weight until I was a thin little wife for him.

I felt lightheaded, a tsunami of feelings flooding over me.

What felt like an eternity later, I picked a pair of old jeans and a blouse I had been missing. At least I knew it would fit and feel comfortable. I could hear James out in the family room, so I stayed in the confines of my own bedroom. My bedroom . . . I didn't like the sound of that. This wasn't my bedroom. I belonged in my apartment in California with Lisa.

I lay back down on the bed, but my reprieve was short-lived. James, like a fly that wouldn't leave you alone, knocked lightly on the door and opened it without permission.

"Hi."

He seemed to be waiting for something.

"Well, you must be hungry. Come out and have some breakfast."

I was hungry, but my stomach hurt at the same time. Maybe it was hunger pains. Or the beginning of an ulcer.

I got up and tentatively followed James out to the kitchen.

"Cheerios?" he inquired, holding up the box.

"Okay."

He pulled down a bowl, retrieved a spoon from a drawer, and the milk from the refrigerator, and set me up on the kitchen nook. I poured the Cheerios and milk and slowly began eating, seeing if my stomach was going to accept it or not. It seemed to want more, so I gobbled down the rest.

James was sitting on the couch, engrossed in The Price Is Right, a daytime game show I loved watching when I was a kid. Back when it was worth watching with Bob Barker. After I finished my cereal, I contemplated a second bowl but thought I better play it safe with my stomach.

I got up and rinsed the bowl. I noticed the dishwasher, but was I supposed to put the bowl there or in the sink? What were the unspoken rules? I decided to leave it in the sink, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I put the Cheerios and milk away. I quietly walked back into the bedroom.

"Hey, Corrine, why don't you have a seat and watch some TV with me?" James asked.

"Uh, no thanks." I made no eye contact and walked into the bedroom.

When I pulled out the hair dryer from the bathroom drawer, I saw a makeup bag—my makeup bag! Every single item of mine was in the bag, just as I had left it. I had to buy all replacements, which, as most women knew, could get very expensive. Those bastards stole my makeup.

After my hair was dry, I lay back down on my bed and thought, What does he expect of me? What is he going to do with me?

And how the hell do I get out of here before then?

It was 10:30, and I suddenly thought of my dad. He would be at work right now. Well, maybe he wouldn't be, with me having gone missing. Even if Lisa hadn't seen my car still in the parking lot and no one had called inquiring about me not being at the deposition, I had been missing for more than twenty-four hours now. Lisa would've at least notified my dad that first night.

She and I had a strict rule about communicating with one another about our plans. We had both had roommates in college who didn't like to let us know what was going on. Then if they happened not to come home on a certain night, it left you in a panic for their safety. We didn't do that to one another. So, I knew the police would be notified by the first night, not that they were "hot on our heels" or anything. I was long gone, states away, somewhere in Kansas.

I spent most of the day in my bedroom, trying to reminisce about my old life and about being home in my own bed. I had taken so much for granted. I was lucky to be a social worker and to have a loving father and friends. I had so much to appreciate.

But it was all gone now. I had to get it all back. Somehow.

* * *

A while later, I heard the TV turn off and the door open and close. I listened intently for any sound but couldn't hear anything. I slowly opened the bedroom door, peaking around, first at the kitchen directly in front of me, and then sticking my head out fully to peruse the family room area. The coast was clear.

I entered the space, and for some reason I felt exhilarated. This was my first time alone in "my" apartment, and the excitement I felt was akin to the first time my parents went out of town when I was a teenager. I had full reign of the whole house. Sure, my space was much smaller now, but this was my opportunity to find a way out. There had to be a way home. If people escaped Alcatraz, I certainly could escape this small, ridiculous apartment.

First, I examined the most obvious route—the front door. I quietly turned the doorknob and tried pulling. The doorknob turned, but the deadbolt was securely locked. It felt like it was bolted two feet into the wall. I didn't want to make too much noise and alert James downstairs, so I headed into the kitchen.

The kitchen may not have had any exits of its own, but maybe it could offer me some help—weapons! A good knife or even a heavy object like a rolling pin could help me escape. I looked in the drawers, but there were no knives. No rolling pin, no ice pick, no meat cleaver. Nothing promising. The closest was a butter knife. I was out of luck. But there was a locked cabinet. Maybe that's where he was keeping these things. After all, how can you cook without knives? Maybe I could pick the lock.

I looked through the pantry, too, but I only saw a bunch of boring healthy food. This definitely was not my pantry at home. Whole-wheat 7-grain bread, oatmeal, whole-wheat pasta, canned fruit and vegetables . . . I looked in the refrigerator and found the same things—healthy selections. Fruits, vegetables, ground turkey, and a lot of organic items, such as cheese and milk. He definitely did not steal anything out of my kitchen from my home. Our kitchen was full of chips, crackers, and cookies—a carb lover's delight. No wonder I was a bit overweight.

I headed into the family room where I couldn't think of how this room could help me. I would have to think about this further. Maybe I could use a lamp as a weapon or something else. Maybe the coffee table was light enough to throw. No, that wasn't realistic. One of the dumbbells would work really well. If only I could have the element of surprise. I imagined smashing James's head in with a dumbbell. It brought a big smile to my face.

A small crease in a wall caught my eye, and I walked over to inspect it. When I looked closer, the crease was actually a rectangle—there was once a window in that spot but was now dry-walled and painted. It was the same on the other wall and in the bedroom. I was closed off to the rest of the world, left to slowly suffocate.

I plopped down in the center of the L-shaped couch and stared at the dark TV. I reached for the remote control and began flipping through the channels. I was eventually drawn to the local news, KSNT's Kansas's First News out of Topeka. So, I was somewhere near Topeka, Kansas. I knew very little about that area. I listened intently to Ben Bauman and Kelli Stegeman deliver the local news to my family room. Somehow, this helped me feel grounded, as if somehow the universe knew I existed just by me tapping into the news.

I'm here, I'm here! I thought. Please, save me!

I lay my head back on the sofa in frustration. One thing was for sure—I had time. James apparently was not out to kill me, and if I were to make a move, it had to be calculated and perfect. No sudden attempts, like last time. I had to make a one-time move—with no mistakes.



I hope you enjoyed Chapter 9! Please vote if you feel so inclined, and leave any feedback you'd like. Thank you!