Three Days:

It's dark all around me, only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The floor is hard, concrete probably because of how cold it is. My head is still kind of fuzzy. My vision is still hazy, the edges blurred out like a fogged camera lens. I need to find out where I am.

As I stand up I wobble, my legs shaking and shoulders slumped. I think I was drugged, maybe. That's the only explanation for these types of symptoms. My vision is clearing up now and I'm definitely in a basement. A storm cellar perhaps? Concrete walls, floors and ceiling. A set of stairs in the corner, leading up, but a wall blocking halfway. A fence is surrounding me, like a cage for a big outside dog. There's a blanket and bottle of water in the corner.

"Hello?" I call out, praying whoever took me would give me just a recognition.

Right then, a door opens and loud footsteps come down the stairs and I back up, my back hitting the fence and making a loud clanging noise. Someone comes into view and it's a man, tall and lean. I can't see him too well because of the light, but he's carrying closer he gets the more I think about how I should act. Looking down I think I shouldn't scream, it will only make him angry. Don't fight him, he'll kill you, he looks big enough to kill you. As the rules scream though my mind, a voice pulls me back into the cage.

"Are you hungry?" The voice ask and I glance up and he's right at the cage door, in his hands a tray of Taco Bell? Excuse me, who puts Taco-Bell on a tray?

I shake my head quickly side to side, my blond hair swaying along. He sighs and I give him a once over. He has to be in his mid twenties, his hair short and crazy, dark brown, almost black. His eyes blue, ocean blue like those pictures you see on Pinterest where the boat is floating on the water so clear you can see the shadow at the bottom. He's tall too, if he wanted to enter the cage he would have to duck.

"You need to eat." He says quietly and I shake my head again so he rolls his eyes and flips the latch on the cage. I press back again and he ducks inside and places the tray on the floor, "I'll be back in an hour. Please eat." he says and then leaves me alone.

I watch the food, almost waiting for something to blow up or try and kill me, but it's only food. This can go so many ways. I can eat the food and there be something inside of it and I die. He could have put some type of drug in it and once I wake up I'll be tied to a bed in a dark room. Then again, it could just be food. I sit on the floor and stare at it, feeling my stomach growl and my mouth dry. He could be tricking me, waiting for me to be helpless and fall into his trap. My mind thinks rational while my stomach gurgles and yells at me to eat the food and drink the water.

I finally decide to place the food and water in the corner and curl into the blanket. He can't make me eat. I refuse to let that happen. I'll act good, do what he says, be quite and not fight but one slip up and he tries to hurt me, hell will break lose. I might be small, but I can cause some serious damage.

An hour later the door opens and he comes back down. I sit balled up, my chin on my knees and he walks over and a look of disappointment crosses his face. "You didn't eat." He states.

I squint at him and he sighs heavily, "Well, come on. You need to come upstairs."
I shake my head and he flips the latch, "Don't be stubborn, you can't be down here." "Why not?" I finally ask, my hands balling up ready to fight.
He stares at me for a moment and then answers, "I'm about to paint down here. You don't

need to breathe in the fumes. You'll get sick. It'll take at least a week."
Suddenly all of this seems wrong. Shouldn't he want me to get sick from paint fumes?

Isn't that what a psychotic kidnapper does? He looks genuinely concerned, so I stand up and slowly walk over. Play nice and he won't kill me. "Unless he's taking you upstairs to kill you." my mind yells at me and my step falters. Could he be taking me upstairs to kill me? That would be just my luck.

I stare at him, keeping eye contact and he gestures with his hand, "I don't have all day." his voice impatient and quick. I nod and take the final steps to him and he grabs my upper arm and leads me out. His grip wasn't tight enough to hurt, but just enough to keep me in place.

I walk beside him up the stairs and into the hallway but I don't have enough time to look around and find an escape route because I'm placed in a bathroom right across the hall. He flips the light switch on and says, "I'll bring you some fresh clothes and more food tonight. You need to eat Penelope."

My eyes widen and just as he shuts the door I call after him, "How do you know my name?" I press my hands against the door and then my ear. All I hear is him shuffling around and the sound of plastic. Who the hell is this guy and what does he want?

One Week and Three Days:

I wake up to the bathroom door opening and I sit up from the bathtub and the guy is standing there holding a cup of coffee. I rub my eyes and he walks in and leans against the sink counter, "I'm going to take you back downstairs today."

"Oh joys." I mutter as I stand up and he side glances at me, "You should be somewhat thankful. I'm doing all of this for you." he says sharply.

I roll my eyes and step out of the tub, "Yeah, then let me go. You haven't even told me what I'm doing here. You haven't killed me yet or tried to rape me. Is that later on or something?" I ask. I know I shouldn't be asking him anything or giving him ideas but it's been a week. All he's done is left me in a bathroom, brought me three meals a day, and fresh clothes.

He laughs lightly, "You're so creative. I'm not going to hurt you, so come on Penelope. You will want to see downstairs."

He holds his hand out so I squint and cross my arms. The only thing I've learned in this week is he won't hurt me. We stood for ten minutes staring at each other the other day when he tried and take me to the kitchen to prove he wasn't poisoning my food. I eventually let him and he ate half of everything he prepared for me.

I finally give in, grabbing his hand and let him lead me back downstairs. Once we reach the bottom, I stare in disbelief. No way he did all of this. The floor is now covered in laminate wood flooring. The walls painted a pastel pink, the ceiling painted white and a celling fan where

the old hanging light was. A full bed with it's headboard against the wall, a dresser against the right wall and a love seat beside the bed with a small round coffee table between them. A bookshelf in front of the bed against the wall with a TV on top and shelves filled with books I would like.

The guy releases my hand and says, "Go on, you're going to love being here."

I turn to him and I know I have a look of disbelief on my face because he smirks and says, "This is so you're comfortable."

"What? Make me comfortable before you kill me?" I say sarcastically and his face contorts to anger and he steps toward me, causing me to step back and my legs hit the couch, "I would never hurt you so get that idea out of your head." he says slow and steady.

I only nod and he loses the anger and gives a blank stare, "Well, get comfortable. The bathroom is through the door beside the bookshelf and you have clothes in the dresser. I have to go to work. I'll be back. The TV works and I know you'll like those books. See you tonight."

He leaves me alone and I hear the clicking of the locks. I walk to the corner, sit down, curl up and finally cry. I haven't cried since I've been here but now I am. My body can't fight it anymore. I'm terrified. Frankly, I don't even remember the day he took me. I can't remember if I was shopping or headed to work. Nothing. It's all black.

My cries get louder and then I'm screaming out, sobbing. "Help. Please help. Somebody." my voice rising and echoing off the walls. There aren't any windows so I know no one can hear me, but it's still worth a shot. After minutes of this, I finally lay on my side and continue crying. I have no one who will look for me. No family who is trying to call me and

getting worried. Friends who live out of state and will take my not answering as me just being me. I'm completely alone and something tells me he knew it.

Four Months and Eighteen Days:

I'm sitting in the center of the bed, flipping through the TV channels when the guy comes down with dinner. I glance over at him and he smiles, like he always does and he's brought his plate too. I throw my legs off the bed and he hands me my plate, only a salad and places my bottle gatorade on the bed.

"What have you been up to today?" he ask, as if I've actually done something productive.

"Watched TV, read half of that Nicolas Sparks book you got me and did some exercising." I say as he sits on the love-seat. He takes a bite of his food, "The book any good?"

I shake my head, "To cheesy for me."
"But you liked A Walk To Remember last month." He says confused.
I roll my eyes and take a bite of my salad and chew. He waits until I finish and I say,

"You recommended I read it. I've just read all of these books. They're starting to get boring." "I'll get you more books then." He says matter-of-factly and I sigh, slump my shoulders,

and ask, "Why did you take me?"
He stands up and starts to leave like he always does when I ask that question. That's how

it's always been. Me asking why he took me and him leaving me with my question unanswered. I back track, trying to keep him down here, "Wait! I'm sorry. Please...can I get to know you?"

He stops and turns back, "Why?" he ask and I shrug, "I mean, I would like to get to know you. I don't even know your name."

"Cal." He says sharply and I nod, "Cal. Cool. Is that short for something?"
He walks back over and nods, "Yeah, Calvin."
I throw my hands up and smile, "We're getting somewhere! We've established names!

Now, what is your social life like? Are you a creepy loner?'
One thing about me was I was blunt and this made him laugh, which wasn't so bad. He

shakes his head and lets his laugh dissolve. "I have friends."
I shake my head, "Cal, Cal, Cal...no one has friends and then kidnaps somebody." He looks up suddenly and stares at me, "You aren't just somebody Penelope."
I stare at him, and him at me for a moment. Those words making me feel a little tiny

fluttering feeling and then my mind pops in and yells, "He kidnapped you! This is no time for goo goo eyes and smooth words. Focus." I snap out of the tiny haze and shake my head, "We're talking about your social life. How many friends?"

"About twenty I see on a daily basis and I have two thousand on FaceBook." He says and I make a face, "You have friends? What? How do you have friends, look like that, have a job and then kidnap someone?"

He sighs and stands up, "Finish eating and goodnight."

While he walks up the stairs I call after him, "Cal! Wait! I need to know why I'm here! How long will I be here?"

The door shuts loudly and I scream out in frustration. I sit on the couch and ball up, staring at the salad on my plate. I was getting tired of this. The same routine. Wake up, hang around, read, watch TV, then him come down, talk to me and go to bed. That was it! I'm actually surprised I haven't gone crazy. Yet.

Six Months:

The sound of Cal walking down the stairs wakes me up and I sit up just in time to see him standing at the bottom of my bed holding a cupcake with a single candle in the middle. He smiles wide, his dimples deepening and he holds it out, "Happy Birthday."

I sigh heavily and get off the bed and walk to him, "Thanks."

I take the cupcake and blow the candle out. He watches me as I take it to the coffee table and set it down. "What's wrong?" he ask and I turn and shake my head, "It's time for me to go."

He widens his eyes, "No it's not."

I nod, "Cal. I can't stay here anymore. I have a life! Unless you have plans for me, I need to go. Do you plan on killing me?" I ask even though I know the answer.

"You know I would never hurt you." He says quietly and I nod, "See, I need to go. I can't keep living here like your pet!"

He goes to walk away like always and I feel anger boil up causing me to finally snap. All of the rules I set flying out the window. I pick up my book from beside my pillow and throw it at him.

It misses him by a hair and slams against the wall. He whips around and I yell as loud as I can, "Let me go!"

He yells back with equal force, "No! You need to be here!"

"Why? Why do I need to be here? I have a life! I have an apartment that needs to be paid. I have a pet. Also my car, I don't even know where it's at."

He walks toward me, "I took care of all of that. You were evicted and I got your stuff and stored it in my garage," before he can continue I hold my hands up and squeak, "You did what?"

He nods, "I handled all of that for you. I gave your cat away too. So he would have a home. Your car is in a parking garage too."

I stare at him in disbelief, completely disregarding the information about my car and yell, "I've had that cat for six years. Who do you think you are? I want to go! I'm tired of being here! Let me go now Cal!"

He laughs once and says menacingly, "Who do you have on the outside? You don't have anyone. No friends. No family. You're alone. You need this."

I shake my head and yell back, "What I need is to go! Let me go!"

His face suddenly softens and my vision goes blurry. Tears stream down my cheeks and I brush at them, trying not to appear weak but he's already seen them.

"We used to know each other Penelope." He says softly.
I furrow my brows, shaking my head and step back, "What?"
"When we were little. We were friends."
I try and think if I knew a Calvin when I was younger and can't remember. I blocked out

so much of my unfortunate childhood. I stare at him and shake my head, "I didn't know a Calvin."

"We lived in the same foster house. For at least two years." He says and I squint, "I never had friends in any of the houses I was in. How do you know I was in the foster care system?"

"Like I said, I was with you." He says, his voice tinted with annoyance. I squint at him and place my hands on my hips, "Why did you take me then?"

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. I wait and when he opens his eyes, he looks almost sad. "He's got no reason to look sad." My mind says and finally he answers.

"I was protecting you from yourself."
I make a face and cock my head to the side, "Protect me from myself? That's malarkey." "I'm serious. I'd been watching you. Trying to make sure you were safe, but you were

alone. No one. You have no one and I was scared for you."
I laugh once and yell a bit, "So you kidnap me? Hello jack-ass, you could have walked up

and talked to me!"
He squints, "You and I both know you would have brushed me off. It took me months to

get you to let me be a friend to you."
"I didn't know you." I say again. I was getting frantic. All of this was lies and I needed to

get out of here. Tears start to gather again and I look down. I'm going to go crazy here.
I hear, him take a deep breath and ask, "You really don't remember do you?" Glancing up, I shake my head, trying again to wrack my brain for a Calvin from my

childhood. In my twenty-three years of life, I never knew a Calvin. Not even in school. He steps away and motions for the stairs "You can go..."
I stare at him in disbelief and shake my head, "What?"
He takes a steady breath, "You can go. Leave."

I dart my eyes to the stairs and back to him, my body coiled and ready to move. I almost don't believe him though. "You first."

He turns and walks up the stairs and I follow along quietly. Once at the top of the stairs he points to the door at the end of the hall, "Freedom is that way."

I look at him and suddenly bolt to the door, running as fast as I can. I throw the door open and just as I step out he calls out, "You have a place here, just know that. I'm your friend. I've always been your friend."

I stop and turn back to him, him giving me a soft smile and I step outside. It's sunny and bright, the weather pretty and cool. I quickly jog down the walkway to the sidewalk and start running. I'll find a phone and call the police.

"It's not like he hurt you," my mind tosses at me. My running falters and I come to a complete stop. He didn't hurt me. He never once touched me inappropriately, hit me or even insinuated he wanted sex. Nothing. He was just a friend. "A friend?" My mind sneers and I take a deep breath, calming my panting. I glance back and his house is in full view, the door still open. That's the best thing I've had in a long time. An actual friend. Despite everything we had good conversations, liked the same stuff and watched movies together. A few times he would sleep on the floor and just talk to me.

I purse my lips and turn back to the street in front of me and up at the stop sign above. I could go back. He said I was welcome. I start to chew on my bottom lip and my mind adds to my confusion, "You have no where to go now. No friends to call or family to help you. You're homeless and petless. How dare he take my cat!" I stop my runaway thoughts quickly and glance back one more time. Cal is standing in the doorway this time. He might help me get my job back and just have somewhere until I can get my own place. He said he was my friend. He said he knew me. Some deep part of me wants to believe him, to trust that he won't hurt me. I take a deep breath and turn back, walking slowly and he watches me. As I get to the walkway to his

house, he nods and turns around, heading back inside and I follow.