Page 70 of Stolen By the Enemy

Chapter Twenty-Two

Grazia

I’ve been alone for an entire day again, almost driving myself crazy.

Seriously, how do people handle being stuck in one place day in and day out?

It's like a recipe for going stir-crazy.

I'm used to a life filled with constant movement—catching up with friends, grinding away at work, and making my garden Instagram-worthy.

Now, I'm struggling to keep my cool within this confined space, desperately searching for a sense of normalcy in this Groundhog Day lifestyle.

Back in the hustle and bustle of my usual routine, I was thriving on the energy of social interactions, busy workdays, and the thrill of outdoor escapades.

The shift from that dynamic lifestyle to this static existence feels like a glitch in the matrix, leaving me to wrestle with an unexpected stillness.

Trying to combat the emptiness within these three walls has become an uphill battle, and I'm facing the harsh reality of the challenges that come with extended isolation.

Spending every waking moment within the confines of the beach house now feels like a mental obstacle course, and I’m navigating it with a mixture of success and frustration.

On top of that, I gave Marco his letter and he hasn’t said anything to me about it. Well, he couldn’t say much since he hasn’t been here all day.

I’m confused, because we had a nice dinner, we made love again—and I know it was good because we were both just tipsy enough to give it our all, but not so drunk that it was a waste of time—and we fell asleep in the same bed.

Did I miss something that went wrong?

He is acting so differently without giving me any warning.

One moment, he’s sweet and kind, and the next, he’s threatening to behead me if I breathe wrong in his direction.

I doubt I’ll ever be able to read this man properly.

He’s hot and cold; one minute he acts like he cares about me, and the next, he could be a complete stranger.

I don’t even know when he left the house, either last night or this morning. It’s not like he has to answer to me whenever he goes somewhere, but it would be nice to know when he’s leaving.

Maybe I’m reading too much into all of this.

Just because I’m cooking him dinner and he’s sleeping in my bed, doesn’t mean we’re becoming a sort of couple.

It’s not wise to develop feelings while dealing with a man like Marco.

These men are more worried about their next deal than they are about people who care about them.

So the answer might be to stop caring about him. To focus again on getting home, and stop trying to figure out Marco, when I’m just never going to be able to get through his walls.

I haven’t thought about home in a while.

The last time I tried to escape, I gave up after just a few minutes.

I’ve mostly come to accept where I am as my new home, but if Marco doesn’t really want me here, then it might be necessary for me to leave here.

The only other problem I might have then, is whether my brothers will allow me back home.

I don’t have access to my own money to find somewhere else to live. And things like furniture and food are all extra costs.

Maybe I can live in Mexico and find a few Mexican roommates who will treat me better than my family does.

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