Authors Notes: Finally an update! I admit, I'm very sorry for neglecting my work, even though I'm on my summer holidays. It's hard to find time lately, I'm the company to my family so I don't get much time. This chapter is more of a 'in the head' type, with little action, but I hope it's satisfying enough. I apologise for not updating again, and hope you enjoy it. One little note, I hope if you've been reading my other Skye-OC fic, that I don't create a grudge on him in my first fiction, this is purely a fantasy, no real romance. I'll leave 'No Ordinary Teen Life' for the mushy stuff xD

Anyway, enjoy!

Having been held captive for about a week now, I was starting to recognise the routine (if you could call it that) that Skye had set himself. Unfortunately because I don't seem to be going home to the people I love and care for so much (friends-wise of course) I didn't have to wake up particularly early. In fact, I could barely keep track of time; just guess by the amount of –or lack of– light in the one small window in the eastern side of the room. Skye never failed to serve the three most important meals of the day (according to Dr. Hardy's and Dr. Trent on his weekly visits): breakfast, lunch and dinner. I admit. I was surprised at the range of dishes he could cook, not that I was really interested eating in his company. I've confirmed that I'm not that depressed to completely give up. Skye's words (despite his annoying voice) plays in my mind the promise of setting me free. It's the only thing I can use against him and I can't think of a loophole to entrap me further. Between the periods of time Skye would spend cooking, he would search through a bookcase I never really took much notice of, handing me books fitting in the fantasy genre, with images of pixies, pegasi and angels on the cover.

I admit, he does listen every once in a while, but these are definitely not my type of books.

Again, I admit, it's been a reasonably good time killer. Far better than watching him slave over a stove or lecture me about magical creatures and childhood fantasies of that kind.

'How boring', I would repeat to myself in my head. 'What's he trying to prove anyway? I'm still a kid or something?'

--

Just like yesterday after eating lunch, another book left the bookcase and sat in my pale hands. Running a finger along the binding absently, the soft fabric that decorated the material tickled the endings of my fingertips, the only thing I could to feel anything nowadays.

Skye, like always, was walking across the opposite wall from me thoughtfully running a hand through his silver hair.

'What could he be thinking about anyway? Isn't he happy enough I'm his hostage? Well, not his, just a hostage', I thought as I watched for a couple more minutes.

Every now and then he'd stop, look at me, then carry on his pacing. Surely he'd make a rut in the wood sooner or later?

Evening quickly came and I stopped looking at another cover of an angel print and sighed.

"Where do you find the ingredient for our meals anyway?" I mumbled. …What a useless attempt at small talk.

"Isn't that obvious?" Skye smirked after halting in his tracks from pathetic pacing. I simply put the book on the floor and hugged my legs against my stomach.

"Can't be honest about anything can you?" I mumbled wittily.