Page 20 of Maxim

This man, not so much.

We pull up to an older house minutes later. It looks well kept, but there are no lights on. I wait for instruction as Maxim exits the vehicle. He comes around, helping me out. Placing his hand on my lower back, he escorts me to the front door. I watch as he uses three different keys to unlock the different locks. As soon as we step inside, he enters a very long code into the panel on the wall. His system looks way more sophisticated than the one my father has. I try to memorize his movements, but it’s no use.

Once he’s done, he leads me further into the house.

“This is your home for the time being. There’s a bedroom down the hall with a bathroom off of it. There is also a half bath in the hallway. This is a bachelor pad, so you take the bedroom, I’ll take the couch. There’s food in the kitchen. If there’s anything you want specifically, say the word and it’s yours.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask to go home, but I don’t. This nice guy act is scary, but I’ll use it while I can. Learn his movements until I can escape.

“Do you have any questions?”

I shake my head as I look around the empty place. Sure, there is a couch and a small television, but other than that, it’s cold. No statues or art like my father. No photographs like I would have in my own home. It feels like this place is just a place for him to sleep.

He sighs, moving to my side as he grabs my hand.

“I know you won’t believe me because you have been through trauma that I could never begin to understand. You are safe here. I will never hurt you. I won’t ask you to perform sexual favors on me, nor will I force you to do anything you do not want to do. You are not a prisoner here.”

“Then I can leave?”

The words pop out before I can stop him. I watch him wince. “For the time being, no. One day you will, though. I promise you. For now, the only way to keep you safe is to keep you here. Do you understand?”

Do I understand? I don’t, but I nod anyway.

“Good. Have a seat. I’ll make you a grilled cheese. Is that okay?”

I nod again, not willing to speak as I take a seat on his couch.

“You can turn on the television,” he calls from the open kitchen.

I don’t bother moving for the remote, though. This isn’t my home. I’m not going to let him lull me into a false sense of security only to have him rip the rug out from underneath me. If I have anything to say about it, I won’t be here long at all.

Instead, I study the room as my ears try to catch any noises in the house. When he finally hands me a plate, taking a seat next to me, I ask the question that’s been plaguing me.

“Where are the servants?” I want to ask about guards too, but I felt that would be too forward.

“I don’t have any,” he says, turning on the television.

He flips through channels as I pick at the sandwich he’s brought me. Taking a small bite, I almost moan. It tastes so good. I don’t even remember the last time I ate.

“Hey, don’t eat so fast. I don’t want you to choke. Let me get you some water.”

He stands quickly, going to the fridge. When he comes back, he hands me a bottle of water. I take it, setting it next to me as I finish the sandwich.

When I look up at him, he looks sad.

“I’ll make you another.”

“Oh. You don’t have to,” I say, but he ignores me.

“This isn’t your father’s house. I have no servants. No guards. No cooks or maids. It’s just me and now you. If you are hungry, you eat. You want something to drink, get it. There’s no tiptoeing around or asking for permission. This is your home as much as it is mine now.”

“Stop.” It comes out as a whisper.

“What was that?” he calls out.

“Stop,” I say louder, looking down at my hands in my lap.

I hear him moving around in the kitchen before he comes out and kneels before me.