I tried to stay up all through last night and keep an eye on the man who kidnapped me. Of course, my body betrayed me and I fell asleep.
He said he was sleeping on the couch. I didn't trust him.
Before I dozed off, he was on the couch, laptop on his lap, typing quietly, with some document beside him.
So he was a psychopath, an alcoholic, and a workaholic. It still didn't explain why he wanted me.
I wanted to ask him that last night, but I couldn't say it.
I woke up feeling very rested and very hungry. My eyes wandered around the spacious room until they landed on Damiano.
He was already dressed in his dress shirt and was knotting his tie.
I sat up, stifling a yawn.
I couldn't deny it, the view from where I sat wasn't too bad, Damiano was a very good-looking man, and I could tell from every outfit I've seen him in that he took care of his body.
Too bad he didn't take care of his mind much, because he was a nut case.
"Good morning", I heard him say.
His voice made me understand why he would have to kidnap women; he sounded so emotionless, and even his good morning sounded like an order.
I got up from the bed, walked to the bathroom. Ignoring him.
I closed the door behind me and took care of business.
Washed my face, even brushed my teeth, like it was just another morning.
Only that while I did my morning routine, I continued to think up ways to escape.
When I walked out of the bathroom, he was still in the room. Seated on the couch, coffee in hand and his iPad in the other.
"Come have some breakfast", he said. I was surprised he noticed me walk in.
I walked over to the couch, taking a seat.
"I need to make a call to my family." Yes, yes, it was a long shot. But hey, he hadn't done anything to make me feel in danger yet.
Maybe I should take a softer approach.
"No".
He didn't spare me a glance when he said it, his eyes were glued to the device in front of him.
"You can't just lock me in here forever, they'll need to hear from me sooner or later".
He put his device aside, put his mug down, and leaned forward.
"You tried to cut me with a butter knife last night", he pointed out.
"Yet they're still knives here.
Brave of you", I pointed out, leaning forward as well.
"I have to go to work.
If you need anything, ask Dave", he said, then stood up. He gathered his things and walked to the door.
I grabbed one of the glass cups, and just when his hand held the door knob, I took my shot.
The glass shattered right next to his head, I'm sure a shard or two scratched him.
I smiled, feeling somewhat victorious.
He didn't move at first, and when I saw red drop down his face from the side of his right brow. I smiled again.
I saw him reach for the cut, looking at his stained fingers.
He walked over to the bed, dropping his things, then he stalked towards me.
The sense of victory I was feeling earlier seemed overthrown by a new emotion. Fear.
I couldn't tell what he was thinking as he walked closer to me, instinctively I stepped backwards till I fell on the couch.
He moved in closer, getting to my level, placing both his hands on either side of me. His face unreadable, but like he searched my face as well.
My entire body tensed at his closeness. I hated how he could make me feel fear, I hated it more that he could probably tell that I was scared.
"Do you like that?
Hurting me?
Does that turn you on, Sibel?", he asked.
I swallowed, pushing down the chilling feeling.
"Get the fuck off me Damian", I said.
"Already calling me nicknames?
First, you flirt with a knife, then a glass cup, and now nicknames?
I'm flattered".
He seemed at that moment like my predator, and sadly, I felt like a powerless prey under him, trapped between his hands and waiting for my fate.
His signature smirk tugged at his lips, causing my fear to mix with pure, unfiltered revulsion.
"Throw whatever you want, yell, curse, with that pretty mouth of yours.
It won't change the fact that you are mine."
"I would rather die", I hissed, my teeth barely parting as I forced the words out.
"Be my guest", I saw an emotion flash in his eyes as he said this, one that mirrored what worry would look like, but it was gone so fast I could not be sure.
He stood straight up without another word, grabbing his things and proceeding to leave.
I sat there for a while, thinking about what he had just said; *It won't change the fact that you are mine*, The way he said those words, it didn't sound like a threat, but a fact.
Damiano's words stayed with me throughout the day, like they hung in the air like his cologne.
Even when I was in the bathtub, pretending like I wasn't a hostage and trying to enjoy a nice bath. I could still hear his voice in my head, telling me that whatever I do won't change the fact that I was his.
So I came to a couple of conclusions after my bath.
One was, Damiano wasn't going to let me go willingly. Not only because he had no intention to, but also because he could never trust me. Which was smart of him, I'd report to the cops the moment I could get free. And given the upper hand, I'd hurt him severely if it meant my freedom.
The second was, I couldn't escape. Not by my own means.
I had looked around the mansion from the balcony, and there were a couple of men around, men who would spot me. Some even noticed me watching from the balcony, I couldn't possibly sneak past them. Especially when I barely knew what the house looked like.
If I wanted to have any chance, I would have to see the house, all of it.
My chances of Damiano letting me out of this room were slim, especially after all the stunts I've been pulling.
So I was left with very limited options.
Something I was sure of was, he didn't want me hurt. He wasn't going to kill me or let me die.
I was sure of that.
Maybe I was stupid to think this, I mean, he could be a maniac, and it could have just been a matter of time.
But it was just this feeling, similar to trust but still far from it. He didn't want to hurt me, he wouldn't watch me get hurt either.
So I was going to use that to my advantage.