Page 46 of Stolen By the Enemy

Thinking that the night of talking had anything to do with Grazia caring about what I have to say is humorous.

I know, and she does too, that she was acting out of survival, and I can’t really blame her.

I’m actually impressed with how she has handled this whole situation.

Being kidnapped at gunpoint, taken to a strange country, and kept against her will, with the looming threat of danger, would have broken a weaker person.

Grazia has proven her strength, even though playing games almost cost the girl her life.

No one could really blame her for trying her luck.

I have barely seen her break down, she’s held her own in almost all of our conversations, and even her attempts at escape have been dignified.

If she were to marry someone like me, she would do just fine in the world we live in with danger and threats around every corner.

Chapter Fourteen

Grazia

With Marco gone, I have the beach house to myself again, and I choose to use the time to clean up a bit.

I tidy up the living room and the kitchen after finding a vacuum in one of the cupboards, along with a mop.

I have nothing to do any laundry with, but I find spare bedsheets and leave the dirty ones in the bath.

I’ve always found that cleaning up helps me clear my mind a bit, and standing in the house, feeling the freshness of the mopped floors, gives me a feeling of control over my environment.

It’s an illusion, though, because none of this is within my control.

I’m probably the only person in this messy triangle who doesn’t have any control over what happens.

After everything that happened with Marco, I’m still feeling confused.

I wish I had some communication with my brothers so that I could feel a bit more confident about them coming to save me.

Right now, it seems that they’re not seeing my situation as a priority, and again, I wonder if they somehow believe that I did this on purpose.

They’d have every right to think that, because I can see how it might look that way from the outside.

Actually, right now, it looks a bit like that from the inside too.

My brothers care about family, but they are also very careful when it comes to their business.

And if there is any doubt in their minds that I might have done this on purpose, they might not want to come and get me at all.

The thought causes a horrible feeling in my chest, and I try to push it away from my mind, concentrating again on my sketching.

The front door squeaks as it opens, and I sit up from my horizontal position on the living room floor.

This is the most comfortable way for me to draw. It always has been that way.

The light coming into the living room is perfect right now, and I can hear the waves crashing even through the locked doors and windows.

There’s a sense of peace all around me at this moment—until I realize someone is here.

The only person who could be coming to the house now is Marco, or so I hope, but it’s so soon after he left that I instantly worry that something is wrong.

Could he have sent me another package, and this delivery man just chose not to be polite enough to knock like the previous one?

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