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I’m not abadperson. I’m just doing a bad thing.

And the worst part is I think he knows it.

I hope that’s enough to ensure there won’t be any long-lasting repercussions to locking a man in my basement. Because as soon as I stop imagining torture, the inevitable guilt kicks in.

I’ve tried reviewing a product sent by a local sports clothing store that’s building its brand. They’re small, local, and a product I genuinely enjoy wearing. They’ve given me a few things to try, and I’ve made sure to give honest reviews. But this morning, with the weight of a five-pound dumbbell on my chest, I know I’ll have to redo the reviews tomorrow.

I jot down a few thoughts in my notepad for my next attempt. Perhaps a small clip to show that the fabric doesn’t turn see-through when you bend over. Sure, I’d have to showmy ass, but I could make it a funny clip. This is the kind of thing women would do in a changing room. It’s one of the hardest things about ordering online. You can’t tell how good the quality is unless you try it on.

After finishing up my notes regarding upcoming posts, I relax for the rest of the morning. My brain is too wired to do any genuine work, and my head is thumping from last night’s injury downstairs.

I’ve made a simple sandwich for lunch and, of course, one for the houseguest, replacing his water bottles, too.

I don’t say a word to him when I go down, the cowardly torture method I’ve gone with, and despite his somber expression, I can tell he wants to talk. I leave without a word and only hear a muffledfuckas I’m ascending the stairs.

My heart squeezes as my body naturally comes to a slow pause at the top of the stairs.

No.

He’s not your friend.

Or your houseguest, no matter how many times you call him that.

He’s holding your brother hostage.

Fuck him. Calm down—not literally.

When I return to the basement with dinner six hours later, my muscles ache from the poor workout and stretch I’ve done. My shoulder is burning, and my head is thumping. I throw back a few Advil to take the edge off and prepare myself for a silent dinner.

The afternoon has gone worse than the morning. I feel like crap, but I’ve received more bad news that has sent me into a tailspin. My rage is seeping out of me, and I know I won’t be able to hold it in around him. So I’ll give him his food, eat, and get out.

When I knew I was going to kidnap Austin, I had planned to eat with him. I knew it would be a good opportunity to lay some groundwork. And honestly? I enjoy eating with others. It seems so pitiful to eat alone watching some Netflixdocumentary or listening to a podcast. I miss having Danny around.

And after this afternoon’s events, I need a distraction, and what better one than the chained-up man in my basement?

I can hear Austin adjusting his position on the mattress as I’m walking down. The chains clink together like a cat with a bell around its neck. At least he’s still alive.

“Hey, how are you?” he asks softly as I hand him his dinner. Spaghetti bolognese, my mom’s recipe. The reminder of her warms my chest until my body feels somewhat renewed.

I pause for a moment, truly thinking about my day and how it’s gone from bad to worse.

“Fine.”

Lies.

I twist spaghetti around my fork and take a big bite, saving myself from answering truthfully.

Now, for the most part, I’d say I’m a positive person. I live in the now, but plan for the future. I love the business I’m building, but parts are repetitive, and parts are negative.

My channel started a year ago when I was learning the ropes at community college to get a degree in business. I wanted so much to live my own life and be my own boss. Working for someone else comes with a level of security, but honestly, I have too much rebellion running through my veins to be told what to do all day long. Sure, you know when your next paycheck is coming, but the lack of flexibility and vacation days, not that I really took any of those, fills me with a sense of impending dread when I think about applying forrealjobs.

When Danny and I were orphaned at such a young age, I knew I wanted to build something that was mine, that would take care of us.

So, I worked as a personal trainer on the side while I studied at college in the evenings. And when I realized how much I enjoyed doing it and wearing comfy workout clothesall day, I knew I had to incorporate it into my business plan.

After years of hard work, the videos really took off around six months ago. I started doing short reels to entice followers on my other social media platforms, but ultimately, the bulk of my money is earned through my channel. Currently, my subscriber list is around 400,000, but it’s steadily climbing each month. Luckily, it’s started bringing in some revenue for me, which supplements my product review and affiliated marketing.

As well as circuit workout videos, which is what I initially started with, I’ve now done courses to be trained in pilates, stretching, and meditation to create a more holistic approach to health. As well as a short cooking series which did okay—focusing on easy, healthy snacks for work.