Stay(42)

"Along with being a sadistic, chauvinistic dick, he's now a murderer."

"Don’t talk about him like that!" Rochelle said, her brown eyes flashing with anger. "What did you do?"

"What did I do?" I questioned.

"Yes," she spat. "What the hell did you do? You must have fucked up, big time."

"I didn't do anything!" I shouted, forgetting about wanting to keep quiet. "Oh, wait, never mind. I got kidnapped. I am being forced to stay here, forced to have men pin me down and do whatever they want to me. All I want to do is go home, but I can't because that psychotic, twisted, creep has made it impossible to do so!"

Rochelle recoiled from my words. "Don't say that!" she snarled.

My hands flew up. "What is wrong with you?" Exasperated, I shook my head, mouth open as I panted with rage. "You're just as much of a victim as I am!"

"I’m not a victim," she retorted, looking just a bit perplexed.

"Yes you are," I cried, tears of frustration blurring my vision. "Why can't you see that?" I put my head in my hands. "I was so close," I muttered. "He knew who I was. He knew me, he knew me," I repeated and began crying.

Lily made a move to console me but Rochelle grabbed her shoulder. "No," she told her sharply and took a step toward me. "Listen, Addison," she said pointedly. "If anything happens to Zane, you're gonna be sorry."

"My name is Adeline," I corrected and composed myself. I had to keep it together. "My name is Adeline Miller. And people are still looking for me."

"Oh my God!" Rochelle huffed and threw back her head. "Will you stop? We get it, okay? People are looking for you, you have a family, they miss you, blah, blah, blah," she spat, her tone mocking. "I am so sick of hearing about it! When will you give it a rest?"

"When I'm out of here," I told her.

"I say we let them have you. Maybe they can put up with the constant whining better than we can." She heavily exhaled and strode to the shower. I watched her check herself out in the mirror and felt truly sorry for her. She was so broken and she didn't even realize it.

The basement door opened. His heavy footfalls gave his identity away. Apparently not caring if Jackson saw her naked, Rochelle stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the cold shower.

"I'm supposed to take the newspaper," Jackson told me. He gave me a small half smile that I returned with a glare. "Nate doesn't want you reading anything." His words were defeating. "Okay," I said simply and extended the paper to him.

“That’s my favorite,” he said, his eyes on my wrist.

“Huh?” I asked then realized he was looking at my tattoo.

“I love all the Harry Potter books,” he said shyly. “But the Deathly Hallows was my favorite.” He gave me a small smile. “Though I kinda hated it for being the last one.”

I stared at him, open-mouthed before stammering, “Yeah. Me too.” I blinked, shaking my head.

“I think I read it over a dozen times,” he confessed.

My lips pulled up into a half smile. “I read it a few times too. And cried every time.” Talking about books with fellow fans came natural to me. It was the next best thing to reading them.

I looked at Jackson, studying the bruises on his face. Did he like to fight? He had to do the grunt work for Zane, roughing up customers who didn’t pay. It didn’t seem fitting. Jackson was free to come and go as he pleased, right? He had to work for Nate just like Zane did. I blinked, casting my eyes down, slowly tracing his body. I hadn’t acknowledged how firmly built he was until now.#p#分页标题#e#

“The movies are good too. One of the rare instances where the book to film conversion wasn’t butchered.”

“I haven’t seen them all.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” he said meekly.

“Oh. Well … you should.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Jackson folded the newspaper in half and just stood there for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“I didn’t want to read anything else after I finished that series,” he said shyly.

I couldn’t help but lean forward and agree. “Total book hangover.”

“Book hangover?” he questioned, the words foreign.

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. You know, when you get hung up on a book.”

“Oh, right.” Then he smiled and almost looked happy. “I love that books can do that. Effect you so much, I mean.”

“Yes,” I gushed, my mind going into obsessive reader mode. “I do too. Books are dangerous. They pull you in and make you fall in love or totally destroy you. For the time being of course. Then you finish it and those feelings linger around in agony until you start another and the whole process happens again.” I let out a breath and suddenly felt vulnerable in front of Jackson. I regretted being so open. Would he use it against me?