If I truly wanted to, I could summon the courage to get up and walk out of that vehicle, just like I had walked away from my father. Instead, I sat there and waited. I was going to go with Michael, for as long as it was prudent to do so. Michael owed me.
Michael returned, much like a monster jumping out of the darkness in a horror movie. He opened the car door and said, "Follow me."
I nodded, then did as he bid. While we walked, I asked, "So where are we?"
"You don't know?" he responded, sounding amused and surprised.
"I wasn't paying attention," I said, feeling mildly annoyed.
"Aren't we trusting?" His tone dripped mockery. It seemed as if he wanted me to punch him in his stupid attractive face.
I scowled, not looking at him. "No, it is just that I have no sense of direction. I could get lost in an unfamiliar shoebox. With a map." Might as well admit it and set the bar really low. He would notice soon enough anyway with his unfailing capacity at finding and mocking my weak spots.
He chuckled. I ignored him. I had no intention of being there merely for his entertainment, though that seemed to be the main reason he had brought me along. He seemed to find me comical when he was not being weirdly quiet. The thought made me scowl. I was starting to believe he really might have attacked me to relieve his boredom.
We did not go through the main doors, but rather walked around the building to a side entrance. Michael told me to remain close to him. He told me to sit in a chair and then sat beside me. I glanced through magazines while I waited.
Two long hours later, Michael got up and went over to speak to someone. He then returned and told me to come with him. I followed him again and soon we were outside. He led me until we reached a plane. He went up the stairs and I followed, feeling a bit like an insignificant shadow.
The inside of the plane it did not look like any commercial airplane I had seen on television. There were only a few seats. He motioned for me to sit down in one. He sat across from me and tilted his head back, closing his eyes.
"Is this a private plane?" I asked, feeling like I was stupid for even asking.
"Yes," he agreed, not moving.
"Is it yours?" I wondered.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. I was struck by how deep and serious they appeared. It rather unnerved me. He asked, "Isn't it a little late to be asking questions?"
"What?"
"You're pretty dull, little girl."
"Dull?" I repeated; feeling irritated he had resumed calling me that condescending name.
"Upstairs, I mean." He leaned forward and tapped the top of my head as if I needed actions to understand his point.
"Are you suggesting that I'm stupid?" I snapped.
"No," he said. I tried to remain calm. "Just a tad slow."
"Slow?" I had been putting up with his mockingly ridiculous attitude quietly the entire day and I had had enough of it. I scowled.
"Relax. I'm just giving you a hard time."
I sat there quietly, reminding myself of all the good reasons not to attempt to throttle him. The most prudent of them being he was much stronger than I and I would fail even if I tried. It made me want to punch him all the more, just to prove I could. He would probably laugh at my pathetic attempt. I could practically hear his irritating, mocking laughter.
Instead of doing anything, I sat quietly. He had returned to his original position and closed his eyes.
A voluptuous black haired woman wearing a uniform came through a door and said, "Mr. Thompson, we'll be taking off in one minute."
"Very good," he agreed, not even opening his eyes. She looked at him for a moment with a smile and then returned through the door through which she had arrived.
About a minute later, I felt the plane begin to move. While I was not terribly afraid, the idea of flying made me slightly uneasy. I tried to focus on something else. My eyes roved around the part of the interior I could see without craning my neck. It was rather nondescript. Even if the plane was private, it seemed bare of any ostentatious luxury. I wondered how it was that Michael the car thief had access to a private plane.
I glanced over at him. His eyes were shut and his breathing was deep and even. I realized he had fallen asleep. I supposed it was only natural. He had lived the same experiences as me, at least since he broke into my home. He actually looked surprisingly innocent when he was sleeping. It was obviously because his obnoxious, aggravating and arrogant personality was not showing.
As much as I had been trying to ignore it, he really was attractive. Were his face and form influencing my decisions? Surely not. Even if I could be influenced so easily, whenever he opened his wretched mouth that horrid personality of his spewed out and ruined any effect his good looks might have had.
I wondered if there was maybe more to him than he was showing me. "Maybe I am slow upstairs," I muttered under my breath. Where did I think I was? In some messed up romance novel?
I was on a plane with a dangerous virtual stranger because another dangerous stranger wanted to kill me. I was with Michael not because of his dubious physical attributes, but because I was not going to die without a fight. I was using Michael; he was just a useful tool for my survival. Furthermore, he deserved it. I needed to remember that. I could not forget that the only reason the dangerous Paul wanted to kill me was completely and entirely Michael's fault. Really, it was practically his duty to get me away from there, I reminded myself. Michael owed me, even if he was not inclined to admit it.
Since I was very nearly a kidnap victim. There was no need to get myself feeling all sympathetic over my former abductor. Only an idiot would fall into that trap. I was no idiot.
I sincerely hope, whispered that self critical voice in the back of my mind.
It was not until I woke up I realized I had even fallen asleep in the first place. My neck was cramped from the poor position it had been in while I slept. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to loosen them up. I noticed Michael was watching me.
"What?" I asked testily.
"Nothing," he said, but continued to look in my direction. It was making me considerably uncomfortable. I ignored him, figuring if I complained he would probably just continue in order to bother me more.
I tried to occupy myself with not looking at him, but it was hard. There was not much to see in the aircraft and I had never learned to be good at being idle. I wracked my brain for some bit of conversation, something to sidetrack him from disconcerting me. Then I realized I had no idea what our plans actually were.
The sudden, horrifying realization I had absolutely no idea where we were going hit me. The thought I could be as remiss as to not even find out our destination before setting foot on it filled me with disgust and shame at my own idiocy. For a few moments, I thought I would throw up.
I tried to calm down. I forcibly reminded myself I could not change the past; I had to take control of the present instead. I asked as calmly as I could manage, "So, where are we going?" I was mortified to hear my voice squeak pathetically at the end of the question.
Michael laughed uproariously. I scowled. "You are hilarious, little girl!" he said between laughs. "I swear I haven't met anyone this amusing in many decades."
"So glad to be of service," I responded in a dull monotone. What was I? His new court jester? It only made him laugh harder.
"You have no idea how bored I've been. Even Paul's games have been growing tiresome. I was right to introduce a new face into the mix."
I had the strongest urge to slap him. "How dare you treat my life as if it were just a toy for you to play with?" I snapped, unable to hide my anger. "I want to know right now where we are going and what you have planned!"
He shrugged and the urge to inflict some sort of pain on him was stronger than ever. I had never met anyone who could take me to the edge of my patience with a few words like this man could.
"I never thought of your life as a toy," he said, making my violent train of thought fly off the rails.
"I couldn't tell," I muttered. Actions speak louder than words. Moreover, his words usually were as bad as his actions.
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