Chapter Seven

M y eyes are open, but I'm not motivated to move. I've become numb in the days or weeks since Kado took me. What's the point of getting up when I have nothing to live for?

My life has become monotonous. I do the same thing every day. My life has become a continuous loop of Groundhog Day, and it's slowly killing me.

I wake up and consider it my morning, even though I still have no idea what time it is. I make myself eggs with some toast. Then I shower. I wish he had a bath. That would kill some time for me.

After that, I wander around the apartment. Sometimes I read one of his books, but I've already read them all. With the plot fresh in my mind, I find it hard to reread them. Other times, I sing to myself. When I grow hungry again, I make myself another meager meal of either noodles or mac and cheese.

By the time Kado comes home, I'm dying to be near him, just so I have someone else with me. I've found myself chatting about random things that he has no interest in, I'm sure, but it's my only interaction. I need to speak out loud to someone other than myself, and he's my victim.

If it bothers him, he never lets on. Instead, he listens to me tell him whatever random conversation I can come up with.

Like tonight. I'm prattling on and on about some old soap opera I used to watch.

"Then Nicolas came back. Like it was always a bit over the top, but when he came back, I was like, come on now. The most they had done before that was have a ghost show up or a memory. Not an actual comeback from the dead storyline." I shake my head, dipping my fork to grab some more noodles.

My stomach clenches as I force myself to swallow. If I never eat another cup of noodles, it will be too soon. I'm so burned out on them. I've already lost too much weight, though, so any food I can get my hands on is necessary for survival. My poor skin is paler than it has ever been. I've not felt quite right in who knows how long. My skin hurts, my stomach is in a constant state of disapproval, and I'm unnaturally tired. I'm withering away.

Still, I try to remain positive.

"What about your day? Was it good?" I ask. "I'm sure you are tired of listening to me talk about some show you have never seen."

He smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. Then he points at me and mimes talking again.

Internally, I groan. God, how I wish he could talk back just so I wouldn't have to hear my own voice.

"You like when I talk? That's good. I think I would go crazy if you preferred me to be silent."

He reaches over and grabs my hand briefly, squeezing it. He does this every now and then to let me know I'm okay, I think. I'm not really sure. It just feels like a reassurance of sorts.

"What are you doing the rest of the night?" I ask.

He never tells me if I'm wrong about the time of day. He goes along with it. Would it be asking too much for him to buy a clock so I could at least keep track of the time?

To answer my question, he shrugs and points to the door.

"You're going out?" I sit up straighter in my chair.

He nods again and points to his phone, which I've learned is his way of telling me he has to go to work. My heart races when it hits me. I'm about to be left alone again. I used to love being alone, but it's gotten to the point where I feel like it's almost safer to have someone with me than to be alone.

"Take me with you. Please. I'll be quiet and stay out of the way. I promise," I plead.

He looks confused as he shakes his head no.

"Don't say no. Please." I give him my best puppy dog eyes.

I can see him wavering. He's considering it.

Please. Please. Please.

I see the moment his decision is made, though, and my heart drops. He looks at me sympathetically. Like he wants to say yes, but he can't.

He writes two words on his little notepad that seal my fate.

Too dangerous.

Disappointment and dread run through my veins. Of course. Why did I expect a different answer? He kills people. What would I do if I went to work with him? Help him murder someone? Become an accomplice? Drive the getaway car?

I deflate as I get back to pushing noodles around in my bowl. I've lost my appetite. The crushing weight of loneliness settles on my shoulders once again.

Kado tries to get me to talk again, but I've lost all desire to interact.

I'm going to be stuck here forever.

I sigh as he gets up, putting his bowl in the sink. Then he walks by me, stopping to pat my head. Then he's gone.

I wait several minutes before the tears start to fall.

"Stay here, Lucy. Heel. Down. Sit. Good pet." I say the words, but my heart is breaking.

Sobbing, my thoughts turn negative once again. This is it. This is all my life will ever be. I'll never marry, experience true love, or have kids. I'll never get to visit all those places I dreamed about when I was younger. I'm a captive to a man who doesn't show emotion. I'm just here for his entertainment because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It's almost as if I'm just a pet to him. Something to entertain him when he is home, but I bet it's out of sight and out of mind the moment he leaves, and that's all I'll ever be. Because for a man like Kado, I mean nothing.

Today has been hell. I wanted to be home sooner, but the asshole I was hired to kill didn't want to cooperate.

It's one of the nastier sides of my job. Going in to eliminate a target when they know you are coming. This man had a price on his head for months. It's unfortunate that Kai felt it was large enough to send me in.

I got it done, but at what cost?

It killed me to leave anata earlier. She was begging me to take her with me. I wanted to, so bad. I want her with me always, but I was worried it would be too much for her. I do some nasty things when I have to.

I don't want my job to taint her.

Or scare her.

Would she be even more frightened of me if she knew exactly what I did? I mean, she has an idea based on seeing her former employer's body, but she didn't witness me do it. For all she knows, I could have been a cleaner.

I think she knows it's more than that, though. I think that's why she has yet to ask me for anything. Instead, she talks to me about random things.

I love it. Hearing her voice brings me joy. She could be reading a grocery list or telling me that she hates me, and I would listen. I will take any little piece of her she wants to give me.

It's the reason I have been making sure to have one meal a day with her. She always assumes it's the evening, but her days are all messed up. Usually, I come home in the mornings. Sometimes, like today, I have to go back out, but most of the time it's the end of my day. I do my best work in the middle of the night. It's the easiest time to follow people. Get to know their habits. Especially when they are often in their own homes, which makes them even more comfortable.

People do all kinds of weird shit in the comfort of their own homes. It's the best time to gather secrets and learn all those nasty little hobbies they enjoy.

The man I am following now is a hard nut to crack, though. He's extra careful. Paranoid even.

So far, I haven't found anyone connected to him that I might use for information. The closest I've gotten is the douche I dealt with today. I thought he would give me a lead, but instead he was useless. He had only been there to deliver the dude roofies. He didn't know why he needed them or how he used them. He didn't even care.

I had no problem taking that little problem from this world.

I just needed him to go quickly so I could get back to Lucy. It killed me to see the disappointment on her face when I left. I almost turned back around to go get her. I wanted to say fuck it and give in. I didn't, though.

Stopping outside the door, I take a deep breath before turning the lock.

I know something is wrong as soon as I enter the door. It's quiet. Almost too quiet.

Locking the door behind me, I move to the kitchen to find Lucy there, sitting quietly at the table with a bowl of noodles in front of her. She looks sad.

The urge to go to her and hold her is overwhelming, but we aren't there yet. She still does not like my touch.

Moving toward her, I take out my notepad.

What's wrong, anata?

I set the paper in front of her.

She looks up slowly. "Nothing. I'm fine."

I wince at her choice of words. Whenever Miya says she's fine, she's usually about to blow a gasket.

I resign myself to the fact that my beautiful girl is going to lose her shit. I'd rather she get it out now.

So I push.

Tell me. I will fix it for you.

"Really? Then go back and give me my life back. I can't take it here anymore. All I do is sit here all day, staring at the goddamn wall." She gets up, grabbing her bowl to move toward the sink. "I don't even get to eat foods I like. I'm stuck with eggs, oatmeal, or noodles. I feel like I'm withering away. At this point, I think death would be kinder to me."

Moving to her side, I turn her to face me, shaking my head.

She scoffs. "I know you don't want me dead. You'd rather keep me here as your little plaything. Something to entertain you while you are here, but out of your mind as soon as I'm out of sight."

I sigh, moving back to the table.

Kenji and Kai make this seem so easy. Their women are almost always happy. I just need her to tell me what she wants.

I must make a noise because she tenses at the sink. Then she whirls a dish, flying past my head. I don't even flinch when it smashes to pieces somewhere behind me. My eyes lock on hers.

She stares at me as if she is feral. Maybe she is.

She picks up another dish, this time throwing it to the floor in front of her. Dish after dish from the strainer is smashed to pieces.

I let her do it all. I couldn't care less about the dishes. All I care about is her getting these emotions out.

I sit motionless as she works through her anger.

It's not until she goes to step toward one of the cabinets that I make a move.

"Stop," I croak out, my throat burning with the words as I move toward her.

She does as I say, freezing as she stares at me with wide eyes.

I pick her up, putting her on the counter, but before I can move away, she stops me.

"You can talk?"