Drugs. Originally consumed in 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 tiny fridge screen 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 K for 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 the scar just above his neckline on the back of his neck. The only full-body system that extensive is Helious. He had tossed out the advanced systems. Much like I had. Only mine had been integrated into my left arm, and I had left the wiring under my skin after destroying the main chip.

"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 to find Ronnie camping out.

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

“That somebody is you.”

She watched him in the kitchen. He downs the LoveNet drug.

"So you do take drugs."

"My body needs them to function. But I don't care much about this party trick formula.”

“You still took it.”

“Sometimes they help. I’m looking for the right one to cure my illness. When I was little my mother was exposed to an experimental drug that my body now needs to function. A drug they don’t normally sell.”

“But you're rich. How can you not get it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

“I wish that’s all it took.”

I suppose I should take comfort that he was an assassin instead of a serial murderer. But that didn’t explain the need to keep 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. Let me lure them out for you now,” I say.

“Heh. 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 goes back upstairs.

Humph. I fidget with my wrist phone out of boredom and notice the function that calls my bike is still active. 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 assess the window for an opening. As I examine the air-tight perimeter, I end at the door, giving it an experimental tug. Locked as expected.

But I was not out of options. If doors and windows could be installed, they could be dismantled. Or blown up.

I was sure the glass windows could break when struck by her bike, but the barrier....

He may use shielded glass, but I had information from a reliable source, aka fantasy novels, that the system spread out the strength to the spots it was hit. There was a limit to output. The shield passed outside and inside the windows. And it couldn’t tell the difference between a bird or a bomb.

I begin to collect DVD cases to lean against the window. Hopefully, the glass itself was weak enough not to ruin the bike I intend to smash through.

But just in case...

I rummage in his kitchen to pull together ingredients for hot chocolate and intermingle a few spices for drowsiness. As I claim the clear stairs, keeping my eyes up, I decide I would never have a house this full of glass. The dizzying sense of height made me sick, but thankfully, the floor and rooms were solid. 

Predictably, he was in his bedroom. His mansion would have easily held a private office. Maybe he worked in his sleep. Or he was used to less space. There were signed posters of rock-and-roll bands I hadn't noticed in the dim light yesterday. Did he also go to concerts for the drugs? 

He was browsing police reports. This time, a picture of me at the bar chatting with my last client. I can still feel the heat of pink fluorescent light above, the sweet smell of sweaty drunks dancing to the noise, and the relieved smile on my vulnerable client's pale face. He was like the oversized plush rabbit I had once cuddled to my chest as I wore a ragged baggy sweater. The headline was "Girl wanted for murder".

Wait. That… had nothing to do with me. Mr K. noticed the shadow on his screen and turned. "I told you… "

"Drink," I interrupted to offer the warm mug of cocoa. 

Those newsprint lies couldn't mean anything.  As long as I got to my father, he would arrest this guy.

"Ugh. I need coffee. Your cheap drug makes it hard to focus. And did you know there's a hole in your shirt?"

I tug my tank down to see a small hole through which I see the turquoise flowers of my bra. 

"I could flip it around," I suggest. 

"Forget it."

He turns and puts on a pair of headphones with little demon horns on them. Could it have been a gift? Surely it wasn't his personal joke.

I take a sip of hot chocolate before accusing the spiked drink I prepared of ruining my escape attempt. I return downstairs and dump the drink down the sink. 

Well, here goes nothing.