Unnamed

SEVEN – you cannot possibly know everything about someone

Only he did not faint. He picked me over his shoulder, marched into his bedroom and threw me so hard on the bed that I bounced. Dylan stood on top of me with a red mark on his left cheek.

"Now, Fay, question-answer time." He folded his arms over his chest and glared at me. I raised my body from the bed and scooted back only to come to a dead end by the head of the bed.

I shook my head in denial, "I do not want to talk about it."

"What has your dad done to you?" His question was like a bucket of cold water in winter. I shivered. He sat rather close to me and took my injured hand. I felt trapped. "Last night you had dreamed something very bad and all along you were calling your dad to stop. There was something more but you were very vague about it. What had happened?"

"Nothing had happened. It was just a bad dream. I do not even remember it." I told him, avoiding looking into his eyes. He gingerly raised my bandaged finger to inspect it and pressed the thumb over it. I flinched and drew back my fingers.

"I know you are lying. Why? Did he abuse you physically? Or..." he gulped looking at my face. I knew what would come next but I sat immobilized, "t-touched you?" He choked out. I hung my head and shook it like a mad at his accusations or even at that thought.

"Just a bad dream." I whispered. I could feel the tears forming in the corner of my eyes and if he didn't stop this, I would end up crying and revealing everything. I didn't want to tell him anything.

He exhaled sharply. I mutely watched his fists clench and unclench fervently, "Fine! Have it your way. But remember, Fay, either you are going to tell me or I find it my way. In the end, I will know it." He got up but I caught his wrist.

"No! Do not do this. There is nothing. It was just a dream." I finally dared enough to match his gaze and prayed that he would not see anything there. He leaned forward so that we were nose to nose.

"You are a bad liar." That's all he said before leaving.

He was just bluffing. There was no way he could know what had happened between dad and me. And he'd be a fool to think otherwise. I was not going to tell him anything and the only other person who could provide any information was dad. Dad would kick his ass before answering anything. At last, after weeks of worrying over his mindless statement, I was finally relieved, somewhat. He would never find out. I smiled and walked out of the bathroom, putting my hair in a ponytail. Dylan never returned last night once again. He had done it before, so, I was not worried like the first time when he disappeared for two days. I got to have the entire bed to myself. Why would I complain now?

In this week, I had fallen into a somewhat same routine of waking up with Dylan and, sometimes, Basil. Three or four times I had been to the mansion to spend time with girls. They were always eager to have me with them. Most of the time, Jean would be working some papers, if not then we’d be reading books together. Beth was more of a silent companion who would let me follow her around while she did her things. I guessed I got along with Hailey more than with anyone else who’d talk with me all day or braid my hair in different styles. Besides, she was the only person other than me who did not come from here but rather from another country. I really liked it and found myself enjoying their company but then I would sometimes draw back in the realization that I was not supposed to be this friendly with them They were my kidnappers, for god's sake. Another reason was Dad. He would not have liked it. I had noticed that Marcus spend a lot of time with them. He always took them shopping and cooked for them. They even sat in circles and complained about their boyfriend problems while he sat among them, listened and advised. He was not at all scary. Well, except for that part when I had unconsciously tried to poke his eyes and he had snapped his teeth at me. Other than that, he was just a cute big teddy bear ("You are right, kiddo. I am just a bear," and he flashed me his sharp teeth).

Something slightly changed in Dylan. He refrained from dragging and bossing me around as much as he could. Yeah, sometimes he was unbearable but not as much as before. We argued a lot (lot means every second) and whenever his eyes started to turn darker, he left rather than yelling at me. I could not help but be curious about why he had brought me here. He had not asked for money or even, thankfully, tried to kill me, neither he treated me as a maid or something. He let me do anything, eat, say whatever I liked as long as I was not trying to escape or asking him about the reason of him kidnapping me. Sometimes, we watched old reels of decades-old black and white movies on a projector. I was even allowed to leave cabin whenever I wanted (only I was too scared to be alone in the forest to consider that an advantage). I even caught him smiling or occasionally laughing at me and sometimes I surprise myself liking his (however mysterious, silent, overbearing it might be) company. I had started, if I were honest with myself, to want to stop him whenever he had to leave for his work.

But I don't say anything because he was the same jerk from school. After all this attention, the silence had become deafening. We had made a routine of him preparing breakfast and me cooking dinner, for lunch we tossed a coin. It all would seem very normal like a vacation if I could get over the hostage part. And that's where I became more determined to escape. It'd been two whole weeks and a half and it hurt to think about what dad might be doing. Was he searching for me? Or had he given up? I hoped not.

I slid open the glass door and stepped out on the deck. I had woken up early today, not by choice but I was having a bad dream. I didn't know why I had them only when Dylan was not with me. I reasoned that it could be because I was afraid of being alone at an unfamiliar place.

I sat on an easy chair in a corner and rested my head on the wooden rails. The morning air was refreshing and cool against my skin. The whole forest was alive with the chirping of the birds and hassle of small animals. The swing hung limply on the tree with a small bird perched on it right now.

"Why are you up so early?" A husky voice acknowledged me.

I looked over my shoulder at him. Dylan seemed like he had just woken up. I could tell that by his rumpled clothes, messy hair and the weird impressions on his face because he always slept on his stomach. He wasn't with me last night so where did he sleep?

In the living room, maybe, I guessed.

I realized that he was still waiting for me to answer, so, instead of trying to make a sense out of him I replied, "I don't know. I just woke up and couldn't sleep... Where were you last night?" I asked that at last minute.

He only scowled walking over beside me and stood again the sturdy railings. "It's none of your business."

"You can ask me questions but I can't. Way to be just." I complained as I sulked back into the chair.

"You still ain't getting the answer," he humorously pointed. He turned so that he was facing me now. The faint sunlight that struggled through the thick leaves fell upon him creating a halo behind him. I watched mesmerized how his porcelain skin shone like a marble under the light. His cerulean eyes were just a shade darker unlike the lapis lazuli they become when mad. They were regarding me just as I was doing but mine was more out of curiosity while his gaze appeared as if he was enjoying an inside joke. His aura was just so mysterious and equally alluring like a spider's web or a flame. You know it's dangerous but you still want a part of it.

"There's some red paint," I touched the skin under my right eye, "here on your face." Just like that, the amusement was wiped off clean from his face.

If I hadn't known better I would have said that he looked almost panicked as he tried to get rid of the paint. It had dried a long ago, so it only left a streak behind.

"It's still there." I pointed, enjoying his discomfort.

Haha, take that, jerk, I laughed silently but stopped when it became evident that he would explode if I didn't help. I tugged him lower with the hem of his tank top. He was surprised at first but stilled when I cupped his left cheek with one hand and after licking my fingertip, I wiped it over the red mark.

"Here, all better. You can thank me by making breakfast. I am hungry." I let go of his face and tried to stand up but he was still leaning over me making me sag back like a sack of potato.

"Did you just lick me indirectly?"

Unbelievable! I just helped him and that's all he could think of?

"No. I just wiped that paint off your face," I stopped just as I realized something. "You paint." That was a statement rather than a question. Last time at school, he was in the art lab. We didn't have that class together so I thought he was volunteering like me but he was one of the artists.

Then I remember something else. My first day here and the paintings in the living room. "D.C. You are D.C. Dylan Clifford, right? That's cool!"

He reeled back, visibly uncomfortable by my inquisition. "There's no such thing," he denied not meeting my eyes.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about it. You know, it's better than kidnapping people. You can sell your works to earn money. It's safe too. If you'll ask ransom from dad, he can track you and think about how bad that will be. Your friends, Basil, they all will suffer because of your one wrong decision. I am sure you wouldn't want that. I will help you to sell..." I gulped when I noticed him trembling. I could almost imagine steam coming out of his ears. The wooden rails shook and broke with a sickening crack under his hands. I gasped, jumping from the chair. How did he do that? Was it even humanly possible? My frightened wide eyes met his livid narrowed ones. "I-You broke..." my eyes trailed to the unfortunate wood hanging pathetically off the deck, "How?"

"If you didn't stop talking right now," he gritted his teeth as if trying to gain control over him. God, was he scary. "I am seriously going to kill you and send your body parts back to your dad."

A shiver racked through my body because I had a feeling that he was not kidding me. I felt a drop of wetness on my cheek and I quickly wiped it away. I didn't know why I was crying other than the obvious reasons. But I should have shoved him down even though it wouldn't have done much damage to him considering he had just snapped the railing like a twig. "I hate you." The words cracked in the end.

His eyes flashed. Next, he had my hands in a firm grip.

"I do not care but if you speak of this to anyone in the mansion or anyone for that matter then be ready to regret that."

I didn't have to ask if he was talking about me telling his friends that he painted. But why was he hiding it now when his friends already knew because I had seen their silly sketches hanging in the hallway. I didn't understand this boy. Neither did I need to. Some secrets were better behind the red doors.

I jerked back my hands from his clutches and pushed him back by his chest. "As if I have nothing better to do than to talk about you."

He stayed silent watching me leave. There was only so much I could do to maintain a distance between us in this small place. There was nowhere for me to go and hide from all this ugliness, threats, demands. It didn't matter if I lived in a mansion or a cabin, they followed me everywhere.

I shut the bedroom door behind me and slid down against it. I wished I had my old life back where I could pretend everything was just alright. Most of the time dad never bothered me with anything as long as I was following his orders. That was not hard considering that I had learned them by heart from a very young age.

I don't need friends.

I don't need to go anywhere.

I will never leave dad as mom did.

I should come home straight from school.

High school parties, homecoming, proms were not for me.

Be nice in front of dad's guests.

What happens behind the door should stay there.

And the list went on with more or less same things. I was adapted to live like that. But I was a novice when it came to Dylan's mood swings. I didn't know what he wanted from me neither did he tell me.

I felt like I was walking on an eggshell around him. It seemed like everything I say ticked him off in a wrong way. Either that or I had an inborn specialty to piss off Dylan by saying all the incorrect things. Even if I tried to prevent that by avoiding him, he'd ruin by always being around me. And I couldn't remain silent around him.

His perfect brooding face was just so irritating and he always seemed like he knew everything. Naturally, I would want to know what he knew. I was just that curious. And he did not like that, thus us fighting, followed by him winning every argument by threatening me and me going in a state of hopelessness until I fall asleep, or a new matter pop would up to argue about or I forgot about it.

But this time, I could not bring myself to care. I stayed slumped by the door for a long time. I could hardly hear him moving around making me believe he was never here. That was a somewhat a relief because as much as I didn't want to see him, I rather have him around by the twilight because of the feral animals roamed outside this cabin. Though he kept denying the existence of wild animals here who could really blame me if I refused to believe him?

There was a hesitant knock on the door and I raised my head a bit.

"Can I come in?" Dylan asked.

Dylan was the one who lighted lanterns when the darkness fell. Because I was cooped up inside of this room an entire day and to keep his distance, he didn't do his daily chore.

With barely any light in the room, I fumbled with the doorknob. I wondered why he was asking when he could barge in with his own will. It was not as if he was very bothered about my consent. I caught a glimpse of the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. 19:45, it showed. Wow, Fay, way to waste a day!

When I managed to open the door, he was nervously shuffling on his heels and toes. The walls of the corridor were lit up with small lights down to the stairs. Dylan had cleaned up since the last time I had seen him while I was still in the same black cotton shorts with pandas on them and an oversized red Coca-cola t-shirt. He was wearing an old plain black t-shirt that couldn't have fitted him any better and blue jeans. It's what he would typically wear.

I glared up at him, "What?"

He had the nerve to look amused at my disheveled state. My glare turned into an insecure frown when he pushed back one of the loose pieces of hair behind my ear.

ALERT! ALERT! Major bipolar here.

I backed away from him, immaturely pulling out the hair behind my ear. That's passive aggression, not immatureness, I corrected myself.

He smirked, knowing perfectly what I was trying to do. "You have to make dinner." He reminded me when he was done.

The glare returned in a snap. I straightened and folded my arms while craning my neck so that I didn't seem small. Not that I succeeded but that was enough to hint him that he would be a fool to think I was going to make dinner after he threatened me that he'd cut in pieces.

"You have not made breakfast. I won't make dinner."

"Actually, I have made breakfast. Your fault that you were being a brat and sulking inside the room." He told using as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, you can eat my share now and leave me alone." I gave him a small wave with a big fake smile and went to shut the door but he stopped it with his palm.

"When you didn't come, I ate that."

"Wow, you're so thoughtful when it comes to- well, you. If you're hungry then you cook."

"Why, aren't you?"

"No!" I declined exasperatedly at the same time my stomach decided to grumble like a grumpy grandpa. "That doesn't mean anything!"

He pushed the door so that it was wide open again. He wasn't amused or laughing anymore. "I can understand you always had maids lined up to assist you but here things work a little differently. I don't care if you don't like it but if you're here you have to cook. Frankly, it's not your dad's house and I am not your dad."

Who did he think he was? I had never talked to him before. God, we never saw each other beside that one Mythology period. Who gave him the right to make prejudice against me like that? He might know everything but what gave him the impression that he knew all about me? From day one, I had been listening to him but there was a limit. It hurt to be treated like that when I had never done anything to him when he had no right to. What did he even know about me? Only if he knew that my life was the exact opposite of what he presumed it to be.

I stepped out of the room, surprising him and closed the door behind me. I turned back to him and leveled him with a glare. "Though my dad has prestige money, I am never treated like a princess. It is quite opposite, to be honest. There was never a third person besides us in that house. My mom left us when I was only nine and my dad was hardly home due to his work. Up to the age of twelve, we had a maid and after that, I was left alone to look after him and myself. I prepared breakfast for us before going to school, after returning made lunch if dad was home, then dinner for his guests. I did laundry, cleaned home, went shopping, did my homework, and everything that was needed until to that very day you kidnapped me. I might have money but I never used it on dresses and shoes or some cute Tiffany pendant. If there was anything my dad had taught me then it was cooking and how to stay away from obnoxious people like you. I am not here by my choice. You kidnapped me. I didn't need to do anything but still, I do. Now you can stop acting like you know me because, clearly, you don't."

"So brat isn't a brat after all." He tried to smirk to cover up whatever unidentified emotion flickering in his eyes. Guilt? Regret, maybe? I didn't care. He heaved a sigh as his shoulders slumped. We both stood in half illuminated corridor, lost in our thoughts until I decided to move. I had already wasted a day; better did something productive like making dinner.

"I'm going to make something," I announced so that he'd shift aside and let me go.

He straightened up so he was looming over me like before. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." I skeptically eyed his sudden change of behavior. "It's not like it is the last time." I muttered inaudibly before walking past him when he shifted...