TWELVE

I STAYED locked in the bedroom for what felt like weeks. I avoided Sebastian, I just couldn't stand looking at him because I kept getting images of him hiding behind trees or following me home and peeking through my windows, stalking me as I grew.

I also kept getting images of him as child, feeding himself and lost in the streets with no one waiting for him back at home. The image of a young teenage Sebastian sleeping in the streets replayed over and over in my head. Looking at him gave me a mixture of disgust and sadness. I only wanted to feel disgust, so I locked myself in the room to clear my head.

I'm trying to understand why I feel this way. Part believes I don't feel sad for him, I just feel this emotion because in some sick way I can relate to his childhood. Similarly, both of my parents were never around growing up, they still weren't when Sebastian took me.

Ever since I was a child, all I remember is the absence of my parents because they were always gone or busy with work. I have no memory of them being at my orchestra concerts or attending conferences, it was always the babysitter they hired that would go and take me to all my school events when I was younger. Once I got older, I started seeing and speaking to them less. I didn't even see them the day I was taken. I know what it feels like to be out in the streets for hours and have none worrying or waiting for you back home.

I'm terrified that there's a slight chance my parents might not even care that I'm missing, or even worse, they don't even know that I am.

A couple weeks before, I got into this huge argument with my mom and told her that one of these days I wasn't going to return home. It was obviously I said that at the heat of the moment and to be dramatic, but what if they actually believe I ran off like I said I would.

What if they aren't even looking for me.

I strongly held on this hope and hallucination that my parents would come and find me, but after knowing that Sebastian's mom didn't even bother to look for him after he got taken, made me realize the same can happen to me. It could also all be some story he made up to make me get rid of the idea that there's a possibly I can be found or escape. I can't distinguish what to believe. Everything is confusing.

Then, there's this other part of me that genuinely believes I'm sorry for him, which makes me sick to my stomach to even be capable of feeling that way towards him. That ugly part of me is convinced Sebastian wasn't always like this, that he was turned and made into the man he is today. If he lived a better life, he would have never taken me, and we would both be living separate and better lives. He wouldn't have been sick in head and this hell wouldn't even have existed. His childhood was a tragedy that he became one.

I don't want to be empathetic towards him. He doesn't deserve it.

Three knocks echo from the door and I jump at the sudden sound. Ever since I locked myself in here, Sebastian has been knocking on the door and leaving trays of food right outside in the hallway. I'm relieved he's been respecting my decision of not wanting to him and hasn't pushed me to leave the room, but today is different because he knocks two more times. Abruptly, the doorknob rattles and Sebastian pushes the door open and walking into the room with no tray of food.

He stands at the entrance as his eyes quickly scan the room until he spots me sitting down on the floor beside the bed. His jeans are dirty with crusts of dry paint and his hair looks unclean and greasy that it glistens brightly under the light of the room. There's a pale bruise on the side of his face, probably from when I punched him that day in his room, and his jaded eyes sit above dark bags. Despite his posture being relaxed, he looks wild and exhausted.

I'm the first one to talk. "Are you okay?"

The muscles in his face soothe and I immediately regret the words that slipped out. I only asked because he looks like a fucking mess, not because I actually care.

Sebastian briefly looks away then nods, "I will be once you get out of this room and eat with me."

I wanted to say no. I really did, but I didn't. Instead, I kneeled myself up to my knees and stood up from off the floor. I pull the bottom of my shirt down to cover the patch of exposed skin peeping through and steadily walk towards Sebastian, warily observing him as I do so. There's a soft but vague smile on him and it's making me sick and confused looking at him all over again. I fight the urge of shoving him out of the room and locking myself in as I watch him step aside from the door so I can walk out before him.

I hear the bedroom door close and the brass reverberation of Sebastian's boots following behind me. Entering the kitchen, I find the table already set up with plates of food and I make my way over to my usual spot, except this time there isn't the witless plastic silverware or dishes placed there, Sebastian finally set out normal, glass platters for me. There's no more plastic cup for me neither.

Sebastian, routinely, sits down across from me and begins to dig into his plate of meats, obviously disregarding the bowl of oatmeal that's sitting right in front of him. I lowly stare at him as I spoon around the steel cut oats in my bowl. Looking at him eat so calmly without feeling troubled or worried about anything makes me want to grab all the dishes on the table and smash them on his head. Maybe he won't be mental after that and let me go.

I toss the spoon aside with a low clink and turn away to look at the living room area. From the side of my head, I sense Sebastian's eyes on me, doubtless in a glare for throwing the spoon. I wasn't aware earlier of the conditions of the living room. The coffee table holds a mess of paintbrushes, and cans and bottles of paint on it that the glass in middle of the table is tainted with different shades of color and dried, dirty water. The couch and the floor surrounding it is occupied with blank canvas and unfinished paintings, along with a few easels standing against the wall.

Viewing all his started art, it's undeniable that Sebastian is good at what he does. Despite who he is as a person, his art speaks the opposite and is astonishing, except the painting of me of course. That one is repulsive.

"I've been doing a lot of painting lately. I have this vision but I just can't it right on canvas."

I turn back to Sebastian and see him also looking at his clutter with bothered eyes and mouth twiddled like if he's trying to solve some math equation in his head. "Take a break." I suggest only to get him away from me.

He stares unblinkingly at me for a moment and then kind of smiles. "Mmh, you're right," He forks the lasts of the sausage patty on his plate and hastily shoves it in his mouth. "I'll be back." He finishes as he get up from his chair and walks towards the hallway.

The bathroom door shuts and I swiftly get up and leave the house before Sebastian can notice I have moved. I walk down the well known dirt path and head directly towards the house behind the church. I can already see Ole William sitting on his porch in his rocking chair, holding the cassette player, as Mia had mentioned, in his hand. I gradually approach him, my breathing coming in short pants. The soles of my sandals skim the pebbles hidden in the sand and make a soft-like raso sound to which the old man turns to. His eyes narrow down at my stubby figure behind his frosted glasses and gives me a small smile.

"Hi," I say.

The wrinkles on the sides of his eyes sink into his skin. "Hello."

"What's that you got there?" I nudge my head at the object in his hand.

"It's an old cassette player. Why?" Ole William brings the player closer to his face and admires it as his grin expands.

"Oh," I spit, my voice barely a whisper. "I was only wondering." I hurry and offer a crestfallen smile, feeling forlorn than ever, and walk away.

I wipe the tears threatening to seep through with the strap of my shirt and run my eyes through the village, looking for Mia but instead spot a woman who resembles her. A sister, possibly, or her mom?

She's clipping damp clothes on a clothesline in front of their house as I near her. "Excuse me."

The woman doesn't turn her attention to me as she continues to hang the rest of
the clothing. "Yes?" She questions as she reaches her hand into the pouch laying across her hips for a wooden clothespin.

"Where's Mia?"

"In school," I squeeze my lips together and look in the direction of the school building, wondering if I can go take a peek. As if she can read my thoughts, the woman answers my question. "Go ahead and look for her, honey, they won't say anything."

I mumble a short 'thank you' and trot to the yellow and blue building. There's no sound of children singing like last time, nor sight of the uniformed boy. I can only catch the sound of unclear muttering of nebulous school work. I sedately go up the front stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible, and stop at the first door. The window is a little to high for me see in so I stand on my tiptoes and raise my chin up to glance inside. The classroom is full of teenagers, some younger looking than me and others about my age, sitting in unorganized rows of desks. From the corner of the room, I recognize Mia's ribbon highlighted hair.

I stare at the back of her head for a long time, debating whether I should even bother. I stare until a clatter of letters and numbers grabs my attention. From the peripheral of my eye, I see a date written on the blackboard: August 26, 2017.

I stumble quietly away from the window and frantically search for something to hold onto. I'm going to spew. I wedge my lips apart, my mouth gapes as I breathe through it instead of through my nose, attempting to control myself. Tasting the acid flavor of vomit gliding against my tongue, I instantly close my mouth and erratically exhale through my nose.

With hazy vision, I manage to get a hold onto the stair's railing. I grip it tightly and look up in front of me. I make out a silhouette of someone wearing dark clothing walking towards me. I don't have to think to know it's Sebastian.

"Vanessa," His voice doesn't sound angry as he nears me. It's unruffled and soft, but I can hear the uneasiness behind his tone.

Four months, almost five.

I nimbly look away from Sebastian and look down at the steps, as I shove him aside and walk down the stairs before anything more can be said. I hear him call after me but I continue walking at a fast pace. I walk until I'm standing in front of Sebastian'a house and start screaming. Cursing it for the hell and madness it has given me; for keeping me prisoner and in a cage like a wild animal.

"Vanessa!" Sebastian yells over my screams. Not looking back, I storm inside and discover that the living room is even more of a disaster than it was before "What's the matter with you?"

I sharply turn around to face him. "You're the matter. That's what's wrong with me, you."

"I haven't done anything to you." He states calmly, his eyes challenging me as his body stiffens.

A take a step forward. "You've done everything to ruin my fucking life. I feel...so manipulated by you and your stories," Sebastian opens his mouth to reply but I charge towards him and manhandle his chest. "What are you trying to do?"

I see his lips move, answering to me, but I'm unable to hear him behind my cries and screams as I shove him back harder. Sebastian grips both of hands in a sudden movement and pulls me slightly away from him.

"You stalked me and put my face on a naked body. I didn't want that. I don't want any of this!" I shout and fall to my knees, my hands still in his.

"Stop it," He tries to keep his voice kind but it comes out harsh. "Get up, Vanessa." His fingers wrap firmly around my hands and tugs me upward, but I don't bother to move.

"What are you trying to do?" I repeat to him from his feet. "Why are you doing this to me? I don't want it." I cry, hearing my voice getting erratic. "I don't...I just don't."

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