Chapter 1 — Jonathan's POV

It was a little past one when the mystery man snuck into the young girl's room. He was quiet like a mouse but strong like your average athlete. The girl laid there sleeping, probably dreaming of being a princess. The man, pulling back the covers softly, made sure she didn't wake up during this horrible crime. Then he swiftly picked her up, and out the window they went. Into the night without a trace. When the sun came up, she would be long gone, possibly to an underground bunker that only he knew the entrance to. The girl that had been swept away from the comfort of her own bed was none other than the only child of the richest family in town. His plan was unfolding more quickly than he had anticipated, but he wasn't worried—he knew what he was doing. He had no help, but he knew what to say if he was caught by the cops, which wasn't likely considering that he had done this multiple times before. He knew the signs that indicated when it was time to give a child back. He never went to the same place twice, and he always changed his name. No one but him knew his real name—except his mother, who had died months before. Right now, his name is Jonathan. In the next month or so, it might be Brad or Luke.

The trip to the bunker took longer than expected. The sun was rising, and he was sure the cops would be out at any moment. And he still had at least three miles to go before he got there. Twice the young girl almost woke up due to the cold air, but she quickly went back to sleep after she repositioned her head against his shoulder. She reminded Jonathan of the last girl he had taken late in the night: small, way too light for her age, and overall beautiful. He never did anything with the girls that he took, but that didn't stop him from having thoughts. Jonathan was still young to be committing such crimes. Eighteen to be exact. He knew deep down he should stop, but he needed the money to survive, especially since he had no home. Sighing, he saw the edge of the woods and smiled. The bunker was close, and there was no sign of the cops. He was in the clear. Which meant he would see another day of the same sun.

Coming to the opening of the bunker, he gently sat the girl down and opened the door. Picking her back up, he swiftly shut the door with one arm and held her tight with the other. Then, taking her to the small soundproof room, he laid her down and covered her with a warm heavy blanket. Then he stared at her as if it were the first time he had seen such a beautiful woman in the bed. A feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, one he had only felt once before in his life. He knew where this feeling would lead, so he did his best to push it down. But with every glance at the girl in the bed, it grew stronger.

"Where am I?" The girl asked after waking up.

"You're in my bunker. Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I never hurt girls."

"Who are you?" She asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Jonathan, and your name is?" He asked, sitting in the corner.

She was silent at first, debating whether or not she should reply. He looked nice for the most part—he sure didn't look like your average kidnapper—so she answered him.

"Lucy...My name is Lucy."

Jonathan smiled and ran into another part of the bunker. Shuffling could be heard, and within five minutes, he reappeared with a bowl of food that looked like cereal.

"I'm sorry, it's not much. And I'm sorry you're in this situation, but I need you, okay? You're gonna get me the money I need. And then you'll be free to go home," He explained, handing her the bowl.

Sitting up, she took it and shook her head. "You won't get any money from me or my family. I'm considered a constant runaway, so they won't even know I was kidnapped." She said, taking a small bite.

Jonathan said nothing, but his frown said everything. He was not upset about the money, he was upset because she wasn't happy at home. He couldn't explain why he cared so much—he just did.

"Um... the bathroom's on the other side of the kitchen, and there's a tv right over there. I have plenty of food, so you can eat whenever. You felt really light when I picked you up, so I figure you don't eat much," Jonathan said, blushing at the last sentence.

Lucy smiled slightly at his awkwardness towards her but remembered that he managed to kidnap her in the night. She should be angry, but she couldn't seem to muster up those feelings. Secretly she was glad that he had taken her. Maybe now her family would actually notice her. If not, then she would stay in the bunker with him. She could help him in the long run, and she secretly thought he was cute.

"How old are you, Jonathan?" she asked, placing the bowl down.

"I should be asking you that question. I don't want to be labeled as a rapist."

She smiled and replied, "I'm eighteen. You?"

"I'm also eighteen. It's funny, you're awfully small for an eighteen-year-old," Jonathan replied.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," she said blushing.

Jonathan picked up her bowl and returned it to the kitchen while she sat and thought about what would happen if she made him angry. Not that she wanted to, but the thought lingered, and she vowed never to let her guard down around him. She knew that he liked her, she had seen the signs, and a part of her liked him too—but she refused to admit it to herself. She didn't know how long she would be down there, but she did know that when the time came for her to leave, she would be slightly upset. And Lucy knew that she would learn more about this Jonathan.