Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Chapter 6
Raya
He didn’t stick around long after discovering who I am.
Normally good at reading people, I had no idea what his thoughts were before he left.
I have no clue what this means for me.
Will he let me go?
Will he kill me because I’ve seen his face?
Have I watched too many crime shows?
Does it really happen that way?
I thought maybe I had leverage. If he wanted to trade me for a big payday, then he’d be less likely to hurt me, right?
All of that flew out the window when he pulled my name up online.
My mind holds onto a story I read about years ago.
Another politician’s daughter, Kaci Stewart, was abducted, and she was missing for over a year, after having been sold into sexual slavery. The news of that is what prompted my own parents to tighten their security on me. At least that’s the explanation they gave. At the time, I thought it had more to do with the fact that I was a teenager and starting to feel caged and trapped. That was when I was still willing to argue with them about having more liberties.
Maybe they were right, and my stupidity landed me here.
I can’t decide if being alone in this room is better than him standing right in front of me.
I try not to think about all the preparations he could be making right now to deal with me after finding out who I am.
I’m distracted by the opulence of the room. When I saw him in the surf shop, I never would’ve guessed he’d have a house like this.
I try to reason that I didn’t misjudge him.
He could have easily broken into this house while the owners were away on vacation, but that doesn’t explain how prepared he was to lock a chain around my neck.
My hands tremble, the plastic water bottle in my hand crinkling as I wonder just how many women he’s brought here.
Does he torture them?
Rape them?
Kill them?
I can’t decide which of those three options are the worst.
A whimper escapes my lips when I realize he could do all three to me.
I try to calm my nerves, telling myself that my parents have to be looking for me. My father would involve any agency possible for my safe return.
Kaci Stewart’s father looked for her. If I close my eyes, I can still see his emotional plea for whoever had his daughter to return her safely. The man changed his entire platform because of what happened to his family. Like my birth helped my father’s political standing, her abduction worked much the same way.
I shake my head, trying to clear it of the idea that my parents would be capable of doing this just to garner more time in the spotlight.
But then I freeze. Wouldn’t that be the best outcome? Wouldn’t it be beneficial to me if my parents had a hand in this? The man keeping me wouldn’t hurt me, right? They would only do it under the guarantee that I wasn’t hurt.
But then again, it doesn’t explain his reaction to what he saw online.
The realization that my parents aren’t involved is a doubled-edged sword. On one hand, I’m grateful they wouldn’t go to such an extreme, but at the same time, I’m terrified of what it could mean for me.
My stomach growls, but despite the fact that I haven’t eaten in what I can assume is inching up on twenty-four hours, I don’t reach for the food he demanded I consume. I want to be mad at myself for not having lunch, for only having the diet soda I purchased at the surf shop, but eating can lead to bloating, and it would’ve been unacceptable to look heavier in my dress on such an important night for my father.
Puffiness in my eyes and lower belly wouldn’t automatically make people assume I had too many carbs for dinner. They’d automatically jump to the conclusion that I was pregnant. It happened once last year already.
Despite not wanting to eat the food he’s offering, I can’t keep my eyes from examining the tray. I’ve been eating expensive food my entire life, and I can easily tell that the items aren’t from a local run-of-the-mill grocery store, and it only adds to my curiosity.
I don’t expect an explanation from the man. He hasn’t answered a single question I’ve asked yet.
I don’t scream or beg for him to release me. I’m fairly certain he’d do the opposite of anything I ask.
I’m starting to wonder if acting nice is even going to work.
I know it’ll be less likely now that he realizes how much trouble he’s in because of who my father is.
Before I can work out a different plan, he opens the door and reenters the room.
I keep my eyes locked on him. If the man was upset that I didn’t remember him, I can’t imagine he’d like it very much if I ignore him.