Page 23 of His Hostage

I don’t know whether to hate him, fear him, or fall in love with him.

That’s the problem.

I’m addicted to the worst in people. It’s as if something inside my brain or heart is broken.

My friends used to tell me I was a kind soul. They said that I was put on this earth to help people.

Sure.

In the end, people just used that quality. They used it, and spit me back out. That’s all I’ve gotten from people.

So when I figure out Rowan’s real occupation, I feel a little envious. Here’s a man who doesn’t give a fuck about anything. This has been his life from day one and he has no qualms about it.

I’ve questioned everything I’ve ever done, to the point of giving up school, friends, and everything else good to be with the asshole ex-husband of mine, Ron.

I’ve always been used in this manner. Empathy doesn’t bring good things. At least, not where I grew up. It doesn’t seem any different here either.

So maybe it’s about time I really live a little. Could I really be a gangster’s right hand woman?

Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m not thinking things through at all.

I decide the best thing I can do is stay away for a while. It’s fun to think about the fantasy aspect of Rowan, but I’m not about to end up with a bullet in my head.

Yet, when I walk outside, I’m still tempted to walk over to his door. I used to think he was such an asshole. Now, I’m not too sure. I’m trying to figure all that out now.

I glance over at his door, and there’s a package resting on his porch. It’s not sealed. It actually looks as if it was never sealed. Normally I wouldn’t investigate, but I have nothing else to do.

I decide to pry.

I walk over quietly, but it seems as if Rowan isn’t home. If he was, I’d be hearing him banging away on his bike.

No, his place is empty. Maybe that’s why there’s a package sitting on his steps right now. Maybe it was planned to get here at a specific time.

I grab the package and notice there’s no writing except for Rowan’s name on the front. No last name, no address.

I drop the package and take a step back. I don’t know if I should be touching his stuff. After all, it’s not my property. I don’t know what’s inside the box. It could be a bomb for all I know.

I back up and decide to head into town. The only thing that can get my mind off recent events is a nice cup of coffee. I take my car into town, rather than walk. Today is hotter than usual and it feels as if the sun is beating down against my face.

I pull into the coffee shop parking lot and let my engine run. I have to take a few deep breaths and really let my body relax.

Images from last night come flooding back into my mind. There’s that man’s gun resting against my c

hest.

A stranger walks by my car, turns his head, and I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart starts beating fast. Sweat rolls down my temples.

I can hardly breathe. It feels as if my chest is shrinking against my organs. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go.

I’m not safe anywhere.

“…she could use some warming up…”

Fuck, I thought I could handle this. The gravity of last night is only now just sinking in.

The stranger who walks by my car smiles and tilts his hat at me. He’s just a nice old man, but my mind is playing the worst tricks on me now. I don’t know who to trust anymore.

I can’t even trust myself.

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