I wake up slowly, the sun streaming in through my bedroom window. I check the clock and am surprised that I actually slept past seven for the first time in a long time.

I can still taste her as I get out of bed. My whole body yearns to go down into that basement and fuck her rough until she screams, but I can’t do it. I have to hold back, for at least a little bit longer. I need her to want it so badly that she’s out of her mind and begging me to finally take her.

That’s how I’ll resolve this, I realize. I’m going to make her mine, make her mine completely and utterly.

I can let her out of the basement today. I don’t need to keep her chained up. She won’t want to run, not anymore. Not when there’s a promise of so much more still to come. Besides, she has nowhere to go and nobody to help her, and we’re so far from the only place she really knows.

I’m sick of keeping her chained up. I want to give her something nice now. There are a few more bedrooms in my house, and she can choose which one she wants. Of course, I’ll have to put a house arrest bracelet on her ankle, just to be sure. She’ll be allowed to move around my property, but if she leaves, I’ll be alerted. She won’t leave, though. That’s just a precaution.

I brush my teeth, shower, dress, and then go prepare her breakfast. It’ll be her last meal down in the basement, although she doesn’t quite know it yet. My heart beats fast with excitement as I picture what it will be like to have someone like Amelia living in my house with me.

I’ve had women here before in the past, but never one like Amelia. I never wanted to give a woman a room of her own before, but things are different with Amelia.

I know she’s my captive. I know I killed her father in front of her. But I think she understands me in a way I never thought anyone could. Maybe Amelia has a darkness inside of her, too, and she can sense that we’re alike. Part of me believes that’s true, but I can’t be sure.

Not yet, at least. I have a plan.

First, I’ll let her out. Then I’ll test her, see if she has the darkness inside of her like I do. And if she does, well, maybe there can be something else between us. Something even better.

I carry her breakfast on a tray and get into the elevator. I ride it down, a new sensation in my chest. It’s excitement, pure excitement over the possibilities that I sensed between me and her. The doors slide open and I step into the room.

Amelia is awake already and sitting up in bed, a book open in her lap. She smiles as I walk over to her and place the tray down on the floor next to her bed.

“How did you sleep?” I ask.

“Fine.” She reaches down and picks up a mug of coffee. She sips it, a little surprised. “The coffee is new.”

“There are going to be a lot of changes today.”

She pauses and looks at me. “What does that mean?”

I smile at her. “Eat first.”

She slowly eats, drinking the coffee, while I watch her. She doesn’t seem self-conscious with me staring at her, though most people would be. She’s probably used to me watching her by now.

Once she finishes, I carry the tray back into the elevator and leave it in there. I walk back over to her as she watches me.

“I want to let you out of this room,” I say to her.

She nods slowly. “Okay,” she says, and I can tell she’s carefully composing her features.

“But I’m not letting you go.” I stop and stand over her, watching her reaction. “I want to allow you upstairs in the main house. I’m going to put a tracking device around your ankle, something small and simple.”

“You don’t trust me,” she says flatly.

“No. I don’t. Not yet, at least.”

“How can I convince you?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “You can start by promising you won’t try to run. I have no phone and my computers are all password protected.”

“I have nobody to contact anyway.”

“You might try calling the police.”

“I don’t know where I am.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Don’t play dumb, Amelia.”

She pauses then nods. “Okay then. I promise I won’t try to leave.”

“Good.” I walk over to the steel rod in the floor and remove the padlock. I slide the chain through the stake then nod at her. “Follow me.”

She stands and walks behind me as I lead her into the elevator. The doors slide shut as she stands next to me, the manacle still on her ankle, the chain looped through my arms.

I watch her expression as the elevator slides upstairs. She hasn’t left the basement in a few days now, and I wonder if she ever thought she’d leave. I told her I wasn’t going to hurt her, but it’s easy to forget that and only focus on the worst-case scenarios. She probably thought I was going to give in and kill her.

Part of me did think I was going to do that, at least back before I thought I understood her. When she first came, I had no clue what I’d do with her, and I did consider killing her.

Even though it’s against my rules. Even though I knew I’d regret it.

But I didn’t and I won’t.

The doors slide open. We step out into the main floor of my home.

She takes a deep breath. “It’s prettier than I remember,” she says.

“I’m glad you like it. Come with me.” I lead her down a hallway, past the front door, and into my security room. “Sit there.” I motion at a chair against the wall.

She sits and watches me. I go into a drawer and take out a key. I walk over to her, get down on one knee, and remove the manacle from her ankle.

She lets out a pleased sound and rubs the sensitive, raw skin where the metal cuff once was. I smile to myself and toss the chain in the corner of the room before returning to the desk. I pick up a small plastic device and walk back over to her.

“Here,” I say, taking the other ankle, the one that didn’t have the manacle. “This will be more comfortable.” I loop the small square box with the soft rubber cusp around her ankle and fasten it securely.

“That’s a lot better,” she says, laughing. “God, my ankle feels so much better already.”

“Good.” I can’t help but smile at that. I want to make her feel good. “Come on. You’re free now.”

“To an extent.” She laughs a little bit.

I shrug. “Well, for now. Until you prove that I can trust you.”

She stands up and steps around, almost as if she’s testing her newfound freedom. It’s probably a lot easier to walk without that heavy chain around her ankle, and I bet the GPS device on her other ankle weighs almost nothing in comparison. It’s weatherproof and tamperproof, so she’s stuck with it until I’m ready to remove it.

“Now, make sure you leave that on at all times,” I say. “Even in the shower. Got it?”

“I understand.” She laughs a little bit and I’m surprised at how attracted I am to her smile. “Can I look around?”

“Of course. I’ll give you a tour.”

She follows me back out into the hall. I start by showing her the kitchen and the living room.

“It’s clean,” she remarks. “And just about the nicest place I’ve ever seen.”

“Glad you like it.”

“I only saw parts when you walked me outside.”

“I know. I did that on purpose.”

“You’re very secretive.”

“I have to be.”

“Because of all the people you kill.” Her face doesn’t betray anything.

“That’s right,” I say.

“How many are you at?”

I pause, surprised at the question. “Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.”

“It’s a lot, Amelia. There are a lot of bad people in the city.”

“Give me a ballpark.”

“Eighty,” I say. “Give or take.”

She whistles and laughs. “That’s more than I expected.”

“I’m very good at what I do.”

I watch her with curiosity as she walks into the kitchen and looks through the refrigerator. She walks down the hall, looks into my office, the bathroom, and finally heads upstairs.

I follow at a distance as she goes into each and every room. She pauses outside of my own bedroom but I nod, letting her go in. With each new room, she looks like a kid discovering something brand new. It’s probably because she’s seen nothing but that basement for so many days now, it just feels good to be able to walk around under her own free will.

Finally, we end back in the hall. “You can choose one of the empty rooms,” I say to her. “You can stay there.”

“Really? Any of them?”

“Of course. They’re all made up and ready for you.”

She points to the room next to mine. I can’t help but smile at her. “Good choice,” I say.

“Can I . . . “ She trails off, biting her lip.

“Go ahead. Ask.”

“Can I take a shower?”

I laugh and nod. “Of course. There’s a bathroom attached to your room.” I lead her toward it. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll bring a towel.”

“Thanks.”

I pause then turn away, giving her some privacy. It’s more difficult than I anticipated, leaving her alone in that bathroom. I have no cameras in there and she’s free to do whatever she wants. She can break the glass and hurt herself or worse.

Instead, the shower turns on. I leave and go into the linen closet, grabbing her a towel. When I return to the bathroom, the door is unlocked so I just step inside.

She’s in the shower, so I place the towel on the floor. I’m about to leave when she speaks. “How did you start?” she asks me.

“Start what?” I pause by the door, curious.

“Killing. How did you start?”

“That’s a good question.” I cock my head and stare at the floor. “I guess I’ve always known there was something about me.”

“What sort of thing?”

“I call it a darkness or a need. I have to kill. It’s a part of my nature.”

“You can’t help it,” she says.

“I guess not. But I have rules.”

“You only kill bad people.”

“Yes. Among other rules.”

“Why have rules? Why not kill anyone? You could probably get away with it.”

“It would be easier,” I agree with her. “But just because I have to kill, doesn’t mean I don’t have to be a human anymore.”

She goes silent for a second and I listen to the sound of her in the water. I know why she’s asking these questions and I want to ask her one of my own, but it’s too soon.

“What if I have something wrong with me?” she asks softly.

I stand there for a moment. “I can help you,” I say.

She doesn’t say another word. I wait and give her a second, but she stays quiet. Eventually, I leave, letting her have some privacy.

That was a big step. Letting her up from the basement was hard enough, but those questions were a good sign. It’s encouraging to think that she might have a darkness just like I do, something that eats at her, something she needs to feed.

Maybe she’s more like me than she realizes.