Stockholm Syndrome

Life is not like in the movies. You don't wake up one day and know exactly what will happen and just realize your dreams. Sometimes you can't even influence things.
The tumor was spotted when I was fifteen. I'm eighteen now and it's time to say goodbye. But not because I will die, no. It's more than this. It's time to say goodbye, because I'm starting a new life... But not like I planned it.
At first everything feels like a dream, but suddenly it turns into a nightmare and all I can do is watch. I can't explain why, but all at once I'm caught between where I am, what and especially who I want. Life is hard. There is love, hate, loss and happiness, but am I strong enough to stay and say what's on my mind?


6. What If?

I stood up, smiled at her and tried to cover my restlessness. I let my eyes glide over her; the dress was phenomenal, the blue of her eyes did shine. Her hair framed her face as soft curls and her beauty made ​​my heart skip a beat.


"Wow," I said, she smiled slightly and looked down.

Then she looked back up and said "I'm feeling much better, thank you." I smiled at her, walked up to her and took her hand.

"I am pleased. Come, let us eat and talk a little," I said, pulling her to the table.

My mom had raised me to be a gentleman, so I of course helped her to sit down and serve the food. I poured us champagne and finally I even lit the candles before I sat down opposite her.

"It all looks... amazing. Now the food must taste delicious" she said and I laughed.

"Try it, I have given my all for you," I said and she smiled at me again.

My heart skipped a beat. It was so nice to see her smile! And that only because of me! My whole effort seemed to pay off, it was unbelievably great. I took the silverware in my hands and began to eat. I watched as she took the first bite and then looked at me surprised.

"It tastes very good," she praised me and I could only smile.

From there we ate our food quietly. She seemed very lost in thought and I hung my own afterwards. How could I make it that she probably felt comfortable with me? Maybe If I'll take it slow? If so, how slow? Eventually we had to leave the house... Later, sometime. But then she had to have already recognized me as her fate, so she didn't do anything stupid. I wouldn't and could never lose her, it would break my heart. She had to understand that I was the best choice for her.




On the one hand, it disgusted me to sit with him at a table. On the other hand, I was so hungry that one also a convicted murderer could sit here and have dinner with me and I wouldn’t have cared. What probably would have been no big difference anyway.

While we ate, no one spoke and I was quite happy. Of course I saw what effort he put into it, but that was just sick.

I let my gaze wander, but you couldn't see much more from the dining table than from the sofa. The forest was dark; the house seemed to be far and wide the only light source. We could be miles away from the nearest town, from the next person.

I took a deep sip of champagne and had to shake because of the sweet and bitter taste at the same time.

"So," I began slowly. "What do you want to talk about?" I asked.

He swallowed his mouthful, washed by with champagne and finally smiled at me.

"I want to talk about you, dear," he said. I resisted the urge to raise my eyebrow.

"I thought you knew me better than anyone else" I said so. He grimaced and looked away.

"Don't start a fight now, Gracie, we're having such a nice evening," he said softly and then looked at me again. The crazy expression was stronger than ever to recognize now.

"Okay. What exactly do you want to know?" I relented. He began to smile again.

"Everything. Hobbies, favorite things, details, intimate, something no one else knows about you," he said.

"I, uh, like to dance. I don't like cooking, because to me is too much effort. I generally consider myself out of the kitchen" I told so. His smile grew wider.

"Well, that fits so then at least. As you probably know, I've worked in a bakery and loved it. As often as I can, I still go there and help" he said. I nodded.

"Next," he told me.

"I'm not really creative. I can neither paint nor tinker well. Uh..."

"Favorite Music? Bands?" he helped me.

"I listen to everything on the radio. But also old hits. Plus I like Club music."

"And how did you find out about One Direction? Have you followed it on TV?" asked Harry.

"Cassie is a total talent show junkie, while I don't like it. Above all, I don't watch the auditions, only the live shows. Anyway, I had promised in Season six to watch the next season with her. And that was your season..." I smiled at him slightly. "I like how different you are. There is something for every type of girl. You are outgoing, love to perform on stage and always do your best. That impressed me, especially because you are all still so young."

"Who impressed you the most?" he asked.

"Liam" I said honestly.

I didn't care whether he wanted to hear his name now. Sure, I had hours before swore that I had to do everything he expected, but this time... He wanted to know everything about me. I wanted to be honest.

"He has a strong personality and a brilliant voice; also he is already so mature for his age. And by the way he looks like a second David Beckham" I explained.

Harry nodded. Then he took a deep breath.

"Okay, I'd say that's it for today, maybe we talk about things again tomorrow at lunch or something," he suggested. I nodded.

Together, we cleaned the table. Just as he wanted to rinse the dishes, I told him I wanted to go to the bathroom and he grinned widely at me as he nodded. Here, however, I went on only one door.

The dark room next to the kitchen, which was Harry's room.


I walked in, but didn't want to turn on the light, something he would have noticed. Slowly I fumbled in front of me and waited for my eyes adjusted to the light. The room seemed very large; the shutters were left down, you could see nothing.

After a few steps I hit with my feet against something hard. Probably a table. I stifled a cry of pain and leaned on it. Oddly enough, my hands landed in something wet.

I immediately petrified. Had he spilled something and hadn't wiped it? Had I spilled something, when I touched it?


"Gracie, is everything okay?" cried Harry, and I tore my eyes.


Shit, shit, shit. I had to get out of here. And if I had spilled something, I couldn't wipe it and thus conceal my tracks.

So fast I could, I ran to the door, pressing lightly my forearm on my lips and said, "Yeah!" so it sounded farther away than right next door.

"Okay" he said and began to hum. I padded across the room, across the hall and darted into the bathroom.

I quietly shut the door behind me and sighed with relief. This was gone well again. I slowly took my hands from the handle and the lock and stared at the door.

Red. She was smeared red. Blood red.

I quickly turned my palms to me and froze. That’s how the red stuff came at the door. I had lubricated it.

It must be color, I thought to myself, raising a hand to my nose. The slightly metallic smell curled my nose and I looked away. No color. Definitely blood.

My heart began to race. Panicked, I turned on the faucet and tried to wash away the blood.

"Shit, shit, shit" I swore to myself. I washed the blood as fast as I could on my hands and spent almost the entire soap. I quickly wet a towel and cleaned the door. Then I washed the towel and hid it a little under the ones, I had used after bathing and hung a new way. Shit, shit, shit.

There was a knock at the door and I jumped up.


"Gracie? Want to spend the night in the bathroom?" Harry asked with a laugh. "You don't have to fear me" he added.

I didn't want to open the door, but I swallowed my fears down and pulled myself together. Now I could slap myself for telling him the truth about Liam. I took a deep breath.

Pretend as if everything would be perfect. Be normal. You were only in the bathroom.


I opened the door and Harry looked at me smiling. I tried to return his smile, but it didn't work completely. My heart was beating me up to my neck and I prayed that he didn’t hear it.

"Let's go back to the living room," he said and I nodded slightly. In the corner of my eye I glanced at the dark room and then quickly ran to the sofa. Harry followed me. On the coffee table were spread out all sweets and DVD's stacked.

"Let's watch a movie?" Harry asked as he sat down next to me. The movies consisted of romantic movies and horror flicks. Cuddle movies.

"Sure," I said, taking a horror movie, which I had already seen.


Fits perfectly. I live in a house of horrors with a horror guy and watch a horror movie. Awesome.


Harry put the disc in and then sprawled out on the couch.

"Eat something," he said and I shook my head. 

"I used to be, well, not really in a good shape and therefore I try to keep myself away from that stuff..." I said slowly, and Harry smiled at me.

"A detail about you," he said happily and I nodded slightly. "But you're beautiful, no matter how much you weigh. Eat." 

I swallowed. Do what he wants.

I slowly reached out a hand, everything in me screamed. I took a piece of chocolate and put it slowly in the mouth. Almost immediately it melted on my tongue; I chewed briefly and then gulped it down.

"See? You ate something and you're doing great. You look fabulous," he said and I nodded.


The movie started and I turned my attention to the TV. In the corner of my eye I could see Harry approached a piece of me while I was sitting stiffly on the sofa.

"So… If I had to sit like that the whole time... I wouldn't endure" he said, reluctantly I looked up at him. "You could also lie down," he suggested.

"Where?" I asked. "There is nowhere place." 

He patted himself slightly on the chest and said "Sure. Lay your head here and stretch your feet to where you're sitting on." I swallowed.

"Okay," I said and did what he said.

Now his arms were placed around me and he smiled contentedly. I looked back at the TV. This position was not comfortable either. Slowly he stroked with his fingers over my arms. I got goose bumps and looked down at my hands. The blood came back into my mind.

Why the hell was blood in Harry's room? He wasn't injured. Was it not his room? Had I entered the wrong room?

Slowly it dawned on me and my heart skipped a beat.

Maybe I was not the only one who lives in this house of horrors. Or rather has lived.


"I need a drink," it blurted out of me and I jumped up from the sofa.

"You too?" I asked him and he looked at me in surprise.

"Uh, yeah, sure" he said. I quickly ran into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I acted as if I couldn't decide to gain time.


What if I was not the first, which he held captive? If he had once kidnapped a girl and she'd pinned here like me? What if she hadn't bowed him? If she had tried to escape? What if... if the girl was not the first?


With wide eyes, I peered over the refrigerator door.

Harry tapped something on his phone, then put it away and watched as a woman screamed and was stabbed. And - oh my God - it looked like he was even smiling a little.

I lowered my head quickly. I had to get out of here. Necessarily.

But I didn't want to suffer the same fate as my predecessor... or predecessors.

What should I do?

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