Chapter 80

Charlene listened to the story with avid interest. She couldn't quite believe it, but to her, it was like watching a show or reading a book. It was the only entertainment she had access to.

'I could ask him for a book,' she realised. He had said no to her having any kind of device to watch television on—even one that had zero access to the internet. She had begged over and over, but it remained a no. Sometimes, if she pestered him enough, he would give in. He had given her clean clothes, a better bed that was actually almost warm, and a tennis ball.

Listing these things in her mind, it occurred to Charlene that she was nothing more than a pet to him.

"So you are friends with those guys now?" Charlene asked, feeling a shard of jealousy. All she had ever wanted was his friendship—and maybe something more.

She wasn't attracted to guys like Kai anymore.

They weren't part of her world anymore.

Damien was her world. He was the only one she needed.

But as she thought about this, a thought occurred to her.

'He's doing this to me.'

Suddenly she felt as claustrophobic and horrified as she had on that first night here. Her skin tingled hot and cold as the terror spread from her chest to her extremities.

"I want to go home," she uttered, teeth chattering. "Please let me go home. I want to go home. Please. Please let me go. Oh, please let me go. Please. I won't tell anyone. I swear to you. I promise. I won't ever tell just please let me go I beg you please, please, please..."

Her words trailed off as he stood up and sighed. He wiped the crumbs from the sandwich he was eating from his face. He would often eat with her down here, like a weird picnic.

"Well, I thought we were past this silliness," he said. He looked mad.

Suddenly Charlene was afraid of what he might do.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he turned and walked away.

That relief was short lived. When Damien returned from college the following day, she heard the click of the front door locking and waited for him to come and see her like usual.

He didn't come.

He didn't come down the following day either, and her water bottle had been empty since the previous day.

Charlene was getting thirsty as well as hungry, lonely and afraid. Afraid he might not ever come down to see her again.

'He's upset that I asked to leave,' she realised. 'He was offended and now he doesn't want to see me.'

When he did finally come down to pass her some water and food, she apologised.

"I'm sorry I asked to leave," she cried. "I'm sorry. I don't want to leave. I'll never ask you again. Just please talk to me."

He looked away as if thinking about it.

"I didn't bring my lunch down," he said.

"You can share mine," Charlene offered.

This made him frown. "But you must be hungry, no?"

"Yes... I am... but I'd rather share than be alone," she told him.

He had the strangest smile as he took a seat in front of her, resting his back against the brickwork. And then he told her all about his day as he usually would. Charlene nodded, asking questions and offering her opinions, which were usually biased, but that did not seem to matter to him.

"I think Jenna and Kai are a couple now," he told her, eyeing her carefully for her reaction.

She didn't give one. She genuinely did not care about that guy anymore. He was in her past. She wasn't going to see him again no matter what happened to her. Thinking about the words Kai had said to her still hurt, but the pain wasn't a sharp, stabbing pain as it had been before. It had dulled to the point where it barely made her sad anymore—an old injury of the heart.

The one thing she regretted the most was trusting Jacob. Gordon had been good to her, and she had ignored him in favour of the manipulating psychopath.

She wanted to know how Gordon was doing but did not dare ask Damien. He might be jealous. She had slept with Gordon after all and refused to sleep with Damien.

Looking at him, she couldn't remember what her aversion to him was based on. He wasn't ugly or anything—it was only his odd style that made him look different.

"How come you decided to start dressing like that?" she asked.

"Like what?" he asked, eyes narrowed in warning.

"You know. Dark. Gothic," she said, hoping that wouldn't offend him.

He shrugged—not exactly the earth-shattering response she was expecting.

"I just like it. Why do you dress like a chavvy slut?" he shot back with a lopsided grin.

"Hey!" Charlene cried. She smiled and looked down, thinking about this for a moment. "I don't actually know. I always thought I liked this look, but maybe I was just trying to fit in—"

"And I was doing the exact opposite," Damien finished.

Charlene smiled. She wasn't used to having conversations about this kind of thing. Her conversation with the guys had been very shallow and mostly based on gossip and bitching. Even with Sofia, they had only really talked about makeup and boys.

Talking about her inner thoughts and feelings was more difficult, but far more rewarding.

'I had to get kidnapped and locked up to find a decent friend,' she thought. 'Maybe I am the problem. Maybe I am the reason I've ended up here.'

The longer she stayed down there, the more she realised it—Damien was doing this to save her from a shitty life.

She got so accustomed to being in her cell that the idea of leaving it was scary. When he allowed her to come upstairs for short stints, she almost wanted to cling to the bars and refuse. But it was nice to take an actual shower. So warm.

Escape only crossed her mind once, as she sat waiting in his living room, drying her hair with a towel. He was in the kitchen, making some tacos, and the back door was open to air out the smoke from Damien's awful cooking.

'The door is just there,' she thought. 'All I would have to do is make a sprint for it.'

She stared at the door for the longest time.

'But there isn't anything out there for me,' she concluded.