Chapter 14: Sofia
When I wake up, the first thing I see is him—sitting by the door, back against the wall, watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. It takes a moment for my mind to catch up, to remember where I am and why I’m here. My stomach twists with fear, but I push myself up, blinking away the grogginess. My eyes land on the plate beside me on the bed: a sandwich, a carton of juice, and a cookie.
The hunger hits me hard. I can’t remember the last time I ate, and despite everything, my body betrays me, my stomach growling at the sight of the food. I glance at him, wary, unsure if this is a trap or some twisted game. I don’t trust him—not for a second.
“Hungry?” he asks, breaking the silence. His voice is softer than I expected, almost gentle, and I hate that it catches me off guard. He doesn’t move, just sits there, watching me with an expression that feels almost… sad.
I nod slowly, but I don’t reach for the food. I’m not ready to let my guard down, not even for a second. He notices my hesitation and lets out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. He looks tired, as if he’s been up all night.
“It’s just food,” he says, his tone almost pleading. “Nothing else. I figured you’d be hungry, so…” He gestures toward the plate. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I stare at the sandwich, my hunger battling with my suspicion. Finally, I reach out and pick it up, unwrapping it slowly, never taking my eyes off him. I take a tentative bite, and the taste is simple but satisfying—turkey and cheese on white bread. I chew slowly, trying to savor it, but before I know it, I’ve eaten the whole thing. I drink the juice in a few long gulps, feeling a little steadier, a little more grounded.
When I finish, I look back at him. He hasn’t moved, but his gaze is intense, like he’s waiting for something. “Who are you?” I ask, my voice a little stronger now. “I don’t even know your name.”
He shifts slightly, as if my question has thrown him off balance. “Does it matter?” he replies, his voice low. I can tell he’s avoiding the question, but I don’t back down. I need to know something—anything—about him. After everything, he owes me that much.
“Yes, it matters,” I say firmly. “You dragged me here, kept me locked up, and I have no idea who you are or what you want from me. At least tell me your name.”
He hesitates, glancing down at his hands, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to answer. But then he sighs, looking back up at me. “It’s Riley,” he says finally. “You can call me Riley.”
“Riley.” I repeat his name, trying to make sense of it, to make him more real. It’s just a name, but somehow it makes him seem a little more human, a little less like the faceless captor I imagined. I study him, taking in the way he sits, the tired lines on his face, the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw.
“What do you want from me, Riley?” I ask, keeping my voice steady even though my heart is racing.
He leans back against the wall, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s not about what I want. It’s… complicated. We didn’t mean for it to be like this.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say, anger bubbling up. “You kidnapped me. You can’t just sit there and act like it’s no big deal.”
He flinches, just barely, but it’s enough for me to see that my words hit a nerve. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know it doesn’t make sense right now. But we’re not here to hurt you. We just need you to stay here for a while.”
“And then what?” I demand. “You hand me over to whoever’s paying the highest price? Or maybe back to my parents so they can finish the job?”
He looks up, and there’s something in his eyes that almost looks like regret. “No. We’re not sending you back to them. That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what is it about?” I press, desperate for answers, for anything that will make sense of this nightmare.
He takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. “Your parents… they’ve made some choices. Choices that put you in danger. We’re just trying to get out of this mess ourselves, and… you’re part of that plan.”
I shake my head, frustration and fear twisting together. “So I’m just collateral to you? A tool to help you get what you want?”
“It’s not like that,” he says quickly, leaning forward. “We’re doing this to survive, but we’re not monsters. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we’re not.”
I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to kidnap me and then tell me you’re the good guys.”
He opens his mouth, as if he wants to argue, but then he closes it again, a resigned look on his face. He nods, accepting my anger, and I feel a strange sense of satisfaction. At least he knows how wrong this is, even if he won’t admit it.
“I’m sorry,” he says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
I turn away, feeling a surge of frustration. I don’t want his apologies. I don’t want his explanations. I just want to get out of here, to go back to a life where I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering who will betray me next.
We sit in silence for a while, the tension thick in the air. I can feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to look at him, to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under my skin. Eventually, he stands up, moving toward the door.
“There’s more food if you need it,” he says, pausing for a moment. “And if you need anything else… I’ll be nearby.”
I don’t respond, and he leaves, closing the door behind him. The lock clicks, and the sound echoes in the silence, a stark reminder of my captivity. I’m alone again, but this time it feels different. I know his name now. I know he’s not some faceless monster, but a man with his own fears, his own regrets.
I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.