Chapter 92

The One Where He’s Stir Crazy

NATE

I’ve spent the day searching the internet. Not for anything specific, but because there really isn’t much else to do. Ultimately, I ended up finding some sort of advertisement for a woman who was giving away kittens.

I don’t remember the specifics of the post, but she’d stated she was attempting to find homes for a bunch of kittens. If she wasn’t able to, the cats would go to a shelter because her family wouldn’t be able to care for so many animals in the way that they deserve.

In all honesty, I didn’t think much of the ad, until I clicked the photos she’d posted alongside it and noticed the one little kitten. With the tiniest white patch of fur in the shape of a lightning bolt.

It seemed too much like fate. There was no possible way I could ignore it.

It immediately made me think of Arielle and I knew I had to do everything in my power to get a hold of that cat and only that cat.

So, I messaged the woman instantly, told her I’d be there within ten minutes, switched out the plates on Hayes’ car, dressed discreetly—but not enough to arouse suspicion from the woman—and went to grab the animal. She gave it to me without hesitation and I fought off tears as I held him in my arms.

Now, here I squat, in a grouping of trees that shades me from peeping eyes and overlooks Arielle’s backyard. The kitten has managed to fall asleep where I cradle him, which I’m thankful for. The last thing I’d be wanting to do is attempting to quiet a cat—which is probably the most impossible thing in the world.

From where I am, I can see Arielle. She looks so fucking beautiful. Her makeup and hair appear to be done up and though I’m curious why, she only just got home maybe a half hour ago, so I can only assume she was out somewhere. Fuck, I wish I could cross this fence and have her in my arms again.

Sitting across from her, is the guy that she was seeing while I was in prison—James, I think is his name. They each have a beer they’re drinking and they appear to be having light conversation. Nothing too serious, but I can’t hear them from where I am. I’m only assuming that based on body language.

Looking down at the kitten, I decide now’s as good a time as any. I can’t stay out much longer, otherwise Hayes will catch on to me disobeying his rules.

Fuck his fucking rules.

Gently, I rub my index finger under his chin and he slowly wakes, giving me a soft mewl. “I’m sorry buddy, but you’ve gotta’ go meet your Mum.” I scratch his chest lightly as I speak, “You’ve gotta’ promise me though, yeah? You’re gonna’ help her heal.”

He mewls again, as if he can understand my demand.

“You tell your Mum that Dad loves her, yeah?”

As I say it, my throat aches with guilt. I place him down on the ground, encouraging him through the small hole in the fence. Getting down on my knees so I’m better able to see him, I observe as he crosses Arielle’s backyard, heading straight for her.

Arielle and James are chatting and it doesn’t appear they notice the small creature. Not until he rubs up against Arielle’s leg and she reaches down, picking him up to place him in her lap.

I stay where I am for a minute or two, simply enjoying the fact that I’m able to see her. She’s safe, which is the most important thing. But she also seems to crack a bit of a smile at the kitten and that causes my heart to swell.

This might’ve been a really good thing I’ve done. I hope it is. I pray that little guy helps her in some way. In a way that, at this particular moment, I’m unable to.

And one day, him and I will have a proper meet.

As Arielle and James stand from where they are and head inside with the kitten, I take that as my cue to leave before I’m spotted.

One Month Later

(Two Months Since Nate ‘s “Death”)

Two months is a lot of time. In that time, you’d think I would’ve done something memorable that I could rant and rave about, but it’s the opposite. I’m still confined to my basement jail.

I should have a coffee mug to bang against the glass all day.

I’ve spent majority of that time doing only a select few things. One of which has been attempting to figure out what I can possibly gift Arielle as an apology. I know she’s not materialistic, but I still want to show her how intensely I’m in love with her. I haven’t stopped loving her in these last couple months and I never will and I’d like something to show her that.

I so wish I was able to text her or call her. I even miss the sound of her voice.

Considering the fact that it’s possible to track people using cell service signals, Hayes has plucked that little card out of my phone—the SIM card—so I’m still able to use my phone, but without being able to do much on it. If I was seriously desperate, I could connect to his wireless internet, but I don’t want to risk it.

At least with having my phone, I’m able to look at photographs and videos. Which is exactly what I’ve been doing way too much of with my cock in my other hand. Jerking off to the memories I have of my girl to the point where it’s embarrassing now.

But what the fuck else am I supposed to do?

I’m stuck inside. Not allowed to go out. The only things I can do are: play video games, surf the computer, watch movies, workout, and jerk off.

I’ve spent a lot of time working out and I’m stronger than ever. However, there’s only so much of it I can do to waste time.

Same goes for movies. I’ve watched so much Netflix that I spend an hour a day alone, mindlessly scrolling through the menu trying to find something I haven’t seen that would interest me. In fact, the other night, Hayes wanted to watch something together, but everything he suggested, I’d already seen.

Hayes and I have been fighting a little more lately than usual. I think it’s a combination of shit. Of him being tired of me being in his space. Of me being tired of being caged like an animal in his basement. I’m annoyed that he doesn’t seem to take my suggestions seriously, either.

It’s been over two fucking months. It’s been hell for me and I’m going fucking stir crazy.

How much longer does he expect me to do this for? Surely, he can see how much this is affecting me. I’ve spent two months staring at the fucking wall with little to no contact with anybody but a dog.

After watching that infamous cut scene on The Last of Us Part II—if you know, you know—I pause the game, putting the controller down. Perhaps this was the incorrect game to play at a time like this, but I’ve pretty well played through everything else. I didn’t exactly have very many options left.