Drugs. Originally natural forms like coca leaves and willow bark. They cause addiction by stimulating the pleasure center of the brain and masquerading as necessary chemical compounds, but whether they take away choice and free will is to be determined," the newscaster concluded. 

-Sunrise television network

Lame, I thought.

I waved my hand at the screen and the channel on the fridge flipped to one talking about lab-grown elephants. I had no doubts that an elephant burger and ivory cutlery would be the celebratory result.

I rested my hand back down on my warm cup of tea as I perched on a tall stool against the kitchen's island table.

Mr Killer, I decided to call him, leaned near the wall-high window watching as life went on untouched by anything we would do.

I fixate on a scar just visible above his neckline. The only system that extensive is Helious. He had tossed out the advanced systems. Much like I had. Only mine had only integrated into my left arm and I had left the wiring under my skin after destroying the main chip as I couldn’t afford surgery.

"So," I say, "Are you planning to adopt me?"

"Why would I adopt you?"

I couldn't decide if he was observing outside with intent or as a ploy to break my crumbling willpower and make me talk.

"I mean...the mail isn't going to open itself. I'm sure my boss is super mad."

I mean. Who knew when my dad would drop by and find that Donnie had trashed my house either to find me or because he was too depressed at my loss to get off the couch. 

“It’s not a good idea when somebody wants you dead.” 

“Wouldn’t that just be you?” I say doubtful. 

I squint suspiciously at the vial he suddenly holds, the usual swirl of sparkles. “Hey.”

“Hmm…”

“Isn’t that mine?”

“Sure. Didn’t you say I could have it?”

“Did I…” He knocks the vial back like a shot before I can really question it. Licks his lisp. Wiggles the empty vial in front of me. Smiles. Huh. I gently slap my own cheek. When my brain kicks back on he’s sitting at the table with a warm cup of coffee. 

“Uh…maybe you shouldn’t mix…those.”

“Relax. I already knew what was in it. Before you ask, I’m not going to get all dreamy on you. It’s just food. My body needs the chemecles to function. Not that your party trick formula does much.”

“Not much. But…but that was supposed to…”

“Make my fingers tingle. Make me hallucinate the dead. I wish. Doesn’t work like that for me. I can thank my family business for that.”

Man, he really did sound regretful. I suppose I should take comfort that he was an assassin instead of a serial murderer. But that didn’t explain the need to trap me.

“How about we stick to the usual deal. I supply weekly drugs and you let me go home.”

“I told you someone...

“If someone wants me dead, they will find me out in the open eventually. How about I lure them out and you kill them for me. As an apology,” I say.

“Heh.” He laughs dryly. “If a higher power wants you dead, you could be behind a bank vault and they would find a way. Blow up your apartment maybe. At least I can guarantee my home security. This shielded glass could withstand the force of a small missile.

“My father is a police officer. I can get protective custody.”

“How will they believe a story you don’t trust yourself? No. You stay until I say so.” He didn’t bother to look at me after that. Simply went back upstairs. 

Humph. I fidgeted with my wrist phone in boredom and saw the function to call my hoverbike still there. It was a custom application since my device isn't compatible with the new software. He must have missed it. All I had to do was get outside.

 My eyes assessed the nearest window for an opening. Then walked to the front door and gave it an experimental tug. Locked. As expected. But…people didn’t usually build their houses to lock people in. Just in case, I should check the other windows and doors. 

I reached what I assumed was the back door, a solid piece of shiny metal with no obvious handhold or pull. I touched my hand to the painted wall beside the door and slid my hand down, noting a change in temperature. A hidden card scanner.  So where was the card? His pocket? A necklace? Under his skin? And he had a remote option. That phone beside his desk? Locked for sure. 

I moved on, this time finding a blue-trimmed clear panel. Beyond the glass was a grassy yard. Suddenly, it clicked and slid open and I was staring at an ugly square robot with twiggy hands that held a basket of laundry. I pushed past the robot to take my chance at freedom when the door roughly shut and a mechanism clicked. I pulled stubbornly at the handle of the stuck door; Then slammed a frustrated palm into the glass. The robot shuffled away behind me. 

I turned and glared at the camera mounted in one corner. I raised my middle finger for a good long minute. I scanned the room again out of reflex when an idea came. I scooped up an innocent round jug of bleach and strode purposefully to a pile of mostly blackish- Ugh. Whose blood? Focus. 

Wait.

Would I die from this? 

I tossed the bottle aside carelessly. It thunked and rolled harmlessly across the tiles. I had half hoped it would hit something. 

“Urrrrrrh!” I vocalized and stalked out. 

I tore through the rest of his rooms. Pulled at every window and scanning for keys. Eventually I found the master suite and stood in the entrance with my hands on my hips, feeling slightly kinder with the knowledge. Yesterday he had been working in a guest room. He must not be a fan of large spaces either. 

I shook my head, half to myself, and stepped into his walk-in closet. I flicked aside articles of clothing, a mix of leather, comfort, club, and occasional suit jacket. The footwear was less numerous. Three solid boots and one oiled pair of dress shoes. There was a space reserved for heavy metal drawers. Locked. One slid open. Boxes of ammunition. Well, now I knew what the rest held. 

I turned to his bed wondering if he kept a knife tucked away. But I wasn’t the sort to threaten someone and he had been clear he was not threatening my life. Even insisted on sparing me. And it made me wonder.. how many had gotten out of this house alive? 

I shut the doors behind me, wander to the nearest immaculate bathroom, lock myself in, and plop down with a sigh to relieve myself. I find myself blinking and rubbing my eyes, the lighting brighter than the hall. I glance at the light switch across the room, which is in the off position. My curiosity piques and eventually my eyes look upward. A skylight. You rarely saw those. It was old too. It had an old manual latch that opened from the inside. Somehow, I had found my way out.