The morning sunlight woke me from my dreamless slumber. Ironic how living a nightmare prevented me from having them in my sleep. It was as if my body gave me mercy in the sleeping hours to help me cope with my hell of being awake.

“Did you sleep well?” Pope asked. He was propped up on his elbow, staring at me as my eyes fluttered open. How long had he been watching me sleep?

“Yes,” I said with a yawn. I stretched my body, oddly feeling comfortable with the fact that Pope’s body was mere inches away from mine. His body heat emanated from beneath the covers we shared. “What time is it?”

“It’s early. My mother should still be asleep if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m worried about many things, but whether or not your mother is asleep is not one of them,” I mumbled as I reached my arms above my head and stretched again.

Pope leaned in and put his lips to my ear and whispered, “I found two cameras in the rafters.” He caressed my face as he said the words to make it appear that we were sharing a soft and seductive moment. “So be careful. We have to make her feel as if you are doing your job in seducing me and our courting is going along perfectly. I think the only place that’s safe for us to talk is on the deck.” He kissed me on the cheek then slipped from beneath the covers and got out of bed.

I watched him as I tried to ignore the delicate tingles that ran along my flesh when he touched me and even more when he kissed my cheek. He was only wearing a pair of shorts and his bare back beckoned my gaze. The muscles, the caramel tone of his flesh, the delicious place where his shoulder blades connected with his spine. He was hot as hell. I was about to fake the most fucked up and dark courtship with the most attractive man I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

“Coffee?” he asked as he walked toward the bedroom door.

“Yes. Please.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder and used his eyes to signal for me to meet him out on the deck. “It’s a beautiful morning today. Let’s sit outside and watch for the deer. They like to come and feed near the deck. If we’re lucky, we’ll see them.”

Again, if I weren’t a captive, this entire experience would easily be the best getaway of my life. And if you didn’t count the crazy loon in the house, the company was not bad as well. Not only was Pope the most fucking handsome man I may have ever encountered, but he seemed kind, considerate, and respectful. Other than his mother, and maybe his temper, I really hadn’t seen a flaw yet.

Shit! Was this Stockholm Syndrome? I remembered watching a movie once on the Lifetime Channel where the lead actress fell in love with her captor. I loved the movie, but I’d always felt it was so unrealistic. Who would ever fall in love with the person who kidnapped them? But Pope wasn’t the one who kidnapped me, so… so?

When Pope closed the door behind him, I got out of bed, grabbed my robe that was still lying on the floor where I’d left it, and walked on cold wood to the bathroom. I washed my face and then stared up at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t look nearly as haunted as that last time I stared into a mirror. I actually appeared refreshed, bright-eyed, relaxed. Again… as if I were on a romantic vacation.

What. The. Fuck?

Trying to not overthink before I had a cup of coffee kick starting my brain, I finished using the restroom and entered the bedroom the exact same time that Pope did. He smiled at me warmly as he carried in a tray with two mugs, a French press, and a plate of grapes and peeled oranges. If his mother were watching, she would be really impressed with her son’s chivalrous act first thing in the morning? Would this make Vivian feel as if I had done a good job in my blow job? I wondered if my sucking off skills had met her approval.

Not saying anything, I reached for the red-checkered blanket, opened the slider to assist Pope whose hands were full, and we both walked outside to where I sat in my comfortable chair again. Pope set the tray down on the tiny side table that separated my chair from his, and also took a seat. His hair was disheveled, and he still had sleepy eyes which gave him a boyish charm.

Pouring the coffee and then handing me a mug, he said, “You know, I’ve always wanted to sit out on this deck having morning coffee with someone.”

I smirked. “Just not with a girl your mother kidnapped to become your dutiful wife?”

He chuckled as he popped a grape into his mouth. “You have a warped sense of humor.”

“Yeah, I learned a long time ago, that if you can’t find the littlest bit of light in a very dark situation, you’ll break. So, now when things are really fucked, I have to find something in it to laugh about. Even if it’s the bizarreness of my life.” I grabbed an orange and nibbled as I stared into the woods. “I mean, who gets to say that they got kidnapped by a little old Asian lady to become the bride to her son?” I smirked. “That’s horror movie material right there.”

“Misery meets Bates Motel.”

“Ha. Exactly.”

“In all seriousness though, we have got to come up with a plan. Our plan. How long are we supposed to keep this up?”

I took a sip of my coffee and raised my eyebrow at him. “Forced blow jobs? Is that what you mean? How many of those are you going to be forced to endure? Poor, poor you.” I giggled, enjoying the sick sense of humor banter.

“I mean… I’m a team player and all. And a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. So, if I have to endure another blow job from time to time, I guess I can make the sacrifice.” He gave me a devilish wink.

“But of course. I mean, if you have to have a blow job.”

“Look,” Pope said in a whisper as he pointed to the tree line. “The deer.”

I looked over to where he was pointing and saw a doe, a buck, and two smaller deer emerging from the woods. A slight breeze, the sound of birds chirping, and the warm rays of the sun all helped create the most relaxing morning of my life.

“They like to feed on the grass,” he said softly. “Every morning I usually see them.”

“It’s beautiful here.”

“It is. It’s my haven. I came here this time thinking things would be different.”

“With your mother?”

Pope nodded with sadness in his eyes. “I thought if I kept her here, away from anyone she could hurt, that she would be given the dignity to die in a place like this rather than in an institution. I owed that to the woman of my childhood. I owed that to my father as well. He would have wanted her to die here.”

“Why do you assume she’s going to die? She doesn’t give off the vibe that death is knocking on her door if you ask me. Especially when she’s Vivian. The woman kidnapped me. Remember? I would say she’s stronger than you think.”

“That personality is. But my mother is sick. She’s on live-saving medicine, and even though she was allowed to take some medicine last night, Vivian has begun preventing my mother from taking what she requires to stay alive. She’s getting weaker and weaker.”

“That doesn’t make any sense to me. How can Viv be getting weaker, but Vivian is not?”

Pope took a long sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes on the deer. “Power of the mind I suppose. It truly is as if two completely different people exist in her. There used to be more—personalities—but, like Vivi, the one I told you about, they all went away. I think Vivian was too strong for them. She killed them all off. Now, I’m afraid that she is killing off my mother.”

“Is that possible? Can Vivian get rid of Viv completely?”

“I don’t know. Yes. No. Who knows? Multiple personality disorder is so controversial because there is no textbook rule that exists for all. Each person who suffers from this is different. My father and I tried to learn everything we could. But no matter how much we read, and how many specialists we spoke to, nothing matched what my mother had exactly. Her case was original to her. So there is no easy answer.”

“When did your father die?”

“When I was twenty-five. His heart gave out. No doubt the stress of my mother helped in that. It was then that she got really bad. Her rock was gone. And he truly was that for her. He nurtured her, cared for her, and really did love her.” Pope sighed loudly. “I tried to step into his shoes. My career was taking off, and financially I could offer her the best doctors, a full-time nurse to live with her, a housekeeper, a driver. Everything she could ever need. But I wasn’t her husband, so she just got worse and worse. Because of the demands of my career, I didn’t have the time to give her the attention she needed. I tried, but it was never enough. There simply weren’t enough hours in a day. Not with the type of job I had. I worked long days, every day. Power and money fueled me. It made me feel in control when my personal life was so out of control. I was stupid to think I could just throw money at it.”

“Your mother said something about you buying and selling businesses,” I said.

“More like I destroyed businesses.”

“Oh.”

“And while I was busy being ruthless, my mother was getting sicker. So, I hired more staff. I hired more specialists. It wasn’t until I started dating Melody that the real nightmare began. My mother seemed happy for me at first. She seemed to like Melody, and Melody was sensitive to my mother and understood her mental illness. But Melody was an attorney and worked about as many hours as I did. My mother hated that fact. She wanted me to marry. And if Melody was going to be that woman, then my mother believed she needed to quit her job. She needed to be the traditional housewife. My mother believed I deserved a submissive woman who cleaned house and did my laundry. One who was waiting with a cocktail and newspaper in hand for when I walked through the door after work, rubbed my feet so I’d be nice and relaxed, and only then served me a delicious dinner she’d spent all afternoon cooking from scratch.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about your mother’s expectations of a dutiful wife. She said she plans to train me while I’m here.”

“Train you? Jesus Christ.” He paused for a brief moment. “But yeah, I can believe it. She tried with Melody. Granted, she didn’t kidnap her, strip her down, and tie her to a chair, but she did try.”

“Was Melody the woman she killed?”

“Yes. My mother didn’t think she was good enough for me. I believed she used the term ‘too independent’ to be a good wife.”

“So she ran her over?”

He nodded.

“Why did you get arrested and sent to prison for the murder if it was your mother?”

“I took the fall.” He glanced at me, and I must have had a look of disbelief wash all over my face because he added, “I know it doesn’t make sense to you, and after those years behind bars, it doesn’t make sense to me either. When I got out, I didn’t even contact her at first. I paid my dues, kept my nose clean, kept the parole officer happy, and planned on starting a completely different life. Without her.” He poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and did the same for me before continuing. “I guess I’m just a goddamn momma’s boy, because the minute I got a call from the nurse I paid to care for her telling me she was quitting because Vivian was around far more than Viv, I felt I had no choice but to come back home to her. I came up with the plan to pack everything up and move her here. Out in the middle of nowhere.” He pointed at me. “And now this. She clearly had this planned out for a while. Richard, cameras, everything. My fucking life is ruined again because of her.”

“Me being here isn’t your fault,” I said.

“I seriously doubt the authorities are going to find me blameless. And am I really? You are still here. I should have called the police the minute I saw you tied in my cellar. But I didn’t.”

“I plan to tell the cops you had no knowledge. You’re just as much a victim as I am.”

We sat there for several minutes in silence, eating fruit and drinking coffee as the deer grazed in front of us. If I pushed out all the madness of how I got to this little piece of paradise, things really were wonderful… for the moment.

“So, how long are we going to keep this up?” he asked, breaking my reverie.

“As long as it takes.”

“And if she expects more than a blow job out of you? Are you prepared to go there?”

“If I have to.”

“Even if that means having sex with me? What if she wants you to fuck me tonight?” Pope asked, his voice rising.

I took a deep breath, not wanting to confess my thoughts and feelings I had toward him last night, but feeling the only way we were going to survive Vivian was by being one hundred percent honest. “If we weren’t interrupted last night, I think we would have had sex.”

Pope appeared surprised and then smiled widely. “Wow. You really say it like it is, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “I hate lies. I hate half truths. I always have.”

“That’s refreshing.” He sipped on his coffee and added, “I feel like my entire life has been one fucking lie.”

“Me too.”

“Really? How so?”

Did I tell Pope the truth? That he wasn’t the only one with a fucked up momma and childhood.

“I have mommy issues too,” I said with a fake smile. “I’m in that club right along with you. I can add the daddy issues stamp to my membership card as well.”

Pope brought his mug of coffee to mine and tapped them together. “Cheers. I guess we have a lot in common.”

I gave a tiny, twisted laugh. “Well, that’s a good thing since we are about to be married and all.” I winked at him.

Chuckling, Pope asked, “Where have you been all my life?”

“Just waiting for the day that you and I could have this fucked up courtship.” I extended out my hand in a gesture of a handshake. Pope took my hand in his and smiled as his eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “Nice to meet you, Pope Montgomery. I’m Demi Wayne. Or shall I say, the soon-to-be Demi Montgomery.”

Pope shook his head. “You are sick, woman. Sick.”

Enjoying being able to laugh at the absurdity of my situation a bit, I added, “A girl always dreams of being swept off her feet. I just didn’t picture being swept off my feet into a moving crate, drugged, bound, and gagged. Sorta adds an entire new and twisted element to the dream, don’t you think?”

Pope shook his head and stuck another piece of fruit into his mouth. “So why do you have mommy issues? Did she kidnap your boyfriends for you too?”

“No, you are the only lucky one there. You mother must love you more than mine did me.”

“Did? Has she passed?”

I nodded, feeling a knife stab my heart. “Yes. She died the day your mother kidnapped me.”

Pope looked at me stunned in mid chew. “What? Really? That is so fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think your mother knew it. I kept my mother a secret from everyone.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Self-preservation. I don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve never told anyone this. My mother was sentenced to death for killing five people. She used a bomb and was blowing up a building that she deemed wrong and worthy of being destroyed. Five innocent people died because of it. I was eighteen when it happened.” I stared at the grazing deer, not wanting to see the shock and pity in Pope’s eyes, but still knowing it existed regardless. “Saying the words makes it so real. I’ve only been thinking them. Never said them. She was put to death the day your mom arrived at my apartment. I was high on sleeping pills and booze, and your mother added to it, and well… lucky me, I get to be your captive bride now.”

“Shit.”

I smirked. That may have been the best response I could have ever heard.

“Yeah. Shit.”

“I didn’t think it was possible, but your life may be just as fucked up as mine.”

I stood up, sad that I had to leave this little utopia. “I better get ready and go meet Vivian. Who knows what she has in mind for me today? I don’t want to risk her hurting Maria because she begins to feel ignored or something.”

Pope also stood and gathered the tray. “Yeah, good thinking. We’ll come back out here this afternoon for wine and the sunset. My mother will think it’s romantic, and you and I can talk further. There’s got to be a solution to this fucked up situation.”

“Your wish is my command.” I walked toward the slider and paused with a smile as I looked up at him and batted my eyelashes in the most exaggerated way possible. “That’s what a dutiful wife is supposed to say, right?”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “A warped sense of humor, I tell ya.”