Breaking Taylor

"Thank you. It smells delicious. What is it?" Would he drug my food, I wondered and looked at him suspiciously. He sat across from me. The table had been set perfectly. The trays steamed from the heat. I knew the smells and couldn't believe it. I had not smelled them in so long I waited for him to tell me before I would believe it.

"A true country breakfast. Something I suspect you have missed. Eggs, sunny side up just the way you like them." He lifted a lid and pointed to them. He set the lid aside and lifted another lid. "Buttermilk biscuits made from scratch. Sausage gravy. Grits. Sweet cream butter. Hash Browns. I had it prepared special for this morning. I hope you enjoy it." He continued as he set all of the lids aside and began serving his plate. I cautiously did the same. I wondered just how he knew what my favorite foods were. How did he know how I liked my eggs or real sweet cream butter? The idea unsettled me.

"It looks perfect and smells better. Why did you do this?" I knew David would do nothing unless he had ulterior motives. So I knew he would expect something from me that I may not be prepared to give. The food was a dream come true though and I savored it as I tasted it. Everything was cooked to perfection, just as if I had cooked it myself. I was not sure what to make of his new behavior, but for the moment I just enjoyed the breakfast. It was nice to have some comfort foods. They fed me well here, but there was nothing that could compare to home cooked meals from fresh ingredients. I missed cooking my own meals and discovering new recipes. I wondered if they would ever let me into the kitchen.

"The dress looks very nice on you. It fits very well." He commented in between bites. He was dressed very simply compared to my near formal dress. He wore a t shirt and slacks with a brown belt. The shirt showed off his muscular arms making me realize how lucky I was that my neck had not snapped when he had wrapped them around me so tight. What control he must exhibit over his strength I admired. How many times he could have seriously hurt or killed me without even trying, yet he hadn't. I continued eating, not knowing when or if I would ever see a meal this good again.

"Thank you." I said as I pressed a napkin to my lips. "It's very old. Where did you find it?" I thought he might be sidetracked if I could keep him chatting. I might also learn a little about him and maybe figure out why he looked so familiar. I was sure it had something to do with football and decided to lead the conversation to that. I waited for him to respond first.

"I bought several from a drama company that went out of business. I have many more much fancier than this one." He commented without looking up. He seemed to be enjoying the food as much as I was. I poured a little more gravy over my biscuit before I spoke again.

"May I ask a question?" I inquired and took a bite of the biscuit.

"You may speak freely. This is a time for you to relax and enjoy. Our work today may be difficult at times and you should be as relaxed and comfortable as possible." He clasped his hands over his plate, looked at me and waited.

Under any other circumstances this would seem to be a normal breakfast between friends. I tried to stay composed when the thoughts of what he had planned terrified me. How could I trust him not to hurt me? I patted my mouth with the napkin and laid it down.

"I've been here a long time." I looked down at my plate. "I don't know where the time went. My concept of time is gone." I sighed and went on. "I was wondering if I could have a journal. I have no idea what month it is, or even what day of the week it is. I forgot the date so long ago that it doesn't even seem to matter anymore. I thought if I had a journal I might keep track of time and not feel so disconnected." I finished and waited.

He chuckled. "Simple enough. I'll bring you ten journals if that's what you like. A journal would be good for you. I honestly thought you would have asked for one before now and actually bought you several. I'll get them after breakfast for you. Is that all?" He was smiling, relaxed and absolutely terrifying me.

"Well, not really." I said without looking up. "I have a million questions, but to be truthful I'm afraid to ask." I pursed my lips and waited for him to respond. I was playing with my hands in my lap. I was very nervous. Would he allow me to ask them all without getting angry? Would I finally understand why all of this had happened, and how it happened? That was too much to hope for I thought, and I wasn't sure I really wanted to know the answer to some of the questions. My heart was pounding in my chest as if it wanted to escape this place as much as I did.

"You can ask anything your heart desires this morning. I will not get angry. I'll answer them to the best of my ability. I should have done this with you a long time ago. Maybe it would have made your stay here a little more pleasant." He responded, but still did not move, and certainly did not look a bit angry. Did I dare continue? I knew I had to. I knew this might be the only chance I would get at the answers that had eluded me.

"It was you that day on the path wasn't it?" I was looking at him now, seeking his eyes, knowing his responses would be truthful.

"Yes it was. I'd followed you. Before you ask, yes I was the stalker. I wanted to make sure you were right for what I had in mind." He did not elaborate beyond that. One mystery solved, although I had come to suspect as much from little things he had said and done. He knew so much about me, things that were personal that I had told no one, not even Jack.

"Why? I mean, why me?" I struggled to find words to express the questions I had in my heart and just could not find them. He seemed to understand what I wanted to know.

"It started with Chris. Not intentionally, if he had his way you would never have been brought into this." David sighed like he really did not want to explain this but had resigned himself to answering any question I might ask. "Are you finished eating?" He asked as he stood up.

"Yes, thank you again. It was very delicious." I stood as well. David went to the intercom and directed someone to come and pick up the dishes. Then he gestured me to the couch. I went and sat down. He didn't sit next to me, instead he sat across from me in the easy chair. This part of the room was set up like a living room. The room itself was like a large one room apartment. It had almost everything.

"Where were we, oh yes, why you." He said as he picked up the explanation. "Chris was obsessed with you. He has a million pictures of you. Pictures usually only a loved one would have. You, lounging on your deck, at the lake, working with your horses and goats, writing at your desk and even more than that. I suppose he was the real stalker. But somehow he seemed to get all of this without you ever knowing about it." He paused and took a sip of coffee.

"Chris would have had some photos of me. We used to date back in high school." But why would he have kept them, or displayed them for that matter? He's the one who left. His precious scholarship to MIT. I was so young, naïve. I thought we were in love and he just left without even saying goodbye. Then it registered. How had Chris gotten pictures of me on the farm? He was long gone when I bought it. How would he have even known that I had bought it or where to find me?

"These photos were current. He had some older ones, of you two together at school functions. Most of them though were of you alone. You looked so beautiful in those pictures. I admired your beauty and strength. He had recorded you working on your farm. I saw how you handled the animals. I had never seen such confidence in a woman before." He spoke softly. I had to wonder why he was telling me all of this now, what had changed? What would change? David sat back and continued. "About five years ago I began following you. I hired a private detective to find out everything he could about you. He left no stone unturned. I listened to Chris mooning over you day and night. I never understood why he just did not pick up the phone and call you. He just said that you were angry and had moved on. That you had no room in your life for him." David closed his eyes.

"How did the stalking start? Is that what led to me being brought here?" I asked, still cautious, but knowing I had to ask. I knew that if he stopped now I would never get the chance to ask these questions again. I sipped my coffee and waited.

"I wrote the first letter more as a joke than anything. It was more to irritate Chris to motivate him to contact you. If he loved you as much as he professed I thought I'd do something to force him to contact you. It failed. But your reaction to that first letter intrigued me. You didn't simply throw it away. You placed it in a box in your closet. So, one day when you were out I broke in and looked in that box. I read all of those other letters from your readers. You must have assumed that's what my letter was. An irate letter from a reader. Something to brush off and get on with life. Then I wrote the second letter and sent the rose." He was staring at me.

It made me uncomfortable. He had been in my home. He had been in my bedroom, my closet. He had invaded my intimate life and was sitting here describing it. Somehow I felt he knew me better than Chris ever did. David knew how to bush buttons Chris never dreamed of. I had to interrupt him. There was something I had to know in order to make sense of all this.

"David." I began. He opened his eyes and waited for my question. "How do you know Chris? I guess I mean, how did you meet him? I'm sorry to sidetrack this but I feel like I need to know." I said apologetically hoping he would continue.

"We met at MIT. We were roommates. It was an odd couple, that's for sure, but we became close friends. When we graduated we had plans to go into business together. Eventually we ended up here." And just like that he skipped back to now, to me. Ok, I won't press it. I'll be grateful for what he is giving me. So I urged him to continue with his story about me.

"When I got the rose, I wasn't sure what to think. It was creepy; the letter had very private knowledge about me. I remember I began closing my drapes after that." I said so he would continue.

He took a sip of his coffee and sighed deeply. "I knew this would take some time. I had not expected you to want so much detail." He sipped the coffee again. He sat the coffee down and began speaking again. "I think I was falling in love with the idea of you. I began to wonder what it would be like to spend time with you. I envied Chris and hated him at the same time. He had you and he left you. He would not give in and contact you. His excuses were lame. I knew I could do better. But by then, Chris and I had started this business and for me to become involved with you would have threatened everything. So I stalked you instead. Planning all the time about bringing you into this place and making you mine so to speak." He stopped abruptly, almost embarrassed it seemed. His cheeks were a little flushed. His eyes sparkled. They were a mix of brown and green and absolutely enchanting.

It still was not making sense. There were so many other ways he could have went about achieving his goals, why had he settled on the worst one? Why did he stop explaining? There was more. Should I push it now when things were going well? I watched him as he drank his coffee down and poured himself a refill. He appeared nervous, as if answering these questions was never part of the plan. For a change I had him on the defensive, I would not stop now. I wanted to know everything. I refilled my cup and spoke quietly, so as not to disturb his train of thought.

"Chris told me about this business. It seems, so, well, over the top. Is there really a market for that sort of thing? I mean why didn't you pursue a career with your MIT degree? You could have made a great living. MIT grads are desired by almost every high paying employer." I stopped and waited for him to respond. I pulled my legs up under me and got comfortable. I intended to stretch this out as long as he would allow. I know I would rather being doing this than what he had planned for the rest of the day.

"It was his idea. He'd done research he said. I had doubts, but when he took me to my first auction I was stunned. I took training so I could become a trainer and here we are. I've made millions in far less time than I ever could have working a regular job. It does seem to be more fun most of the time too." He added. "I know it's not what you expected to hear. But you have to understand something. I am not a nice man. I never was and I'm never going to be. I am who I am and that makes this job come so easy for me. Today is a first for me. This is the longest conversation I've ever had with a woman who wasn't a relative." He confessed.

"You seem like the type of guy who could have had any woman he wanted. I bet you were a heartbreaker in high school and in college." I said and added a smile trying to lighten things up and keep the conversation going when he was so obviously trying to close it.

"High school, that was a joke. Yeah the girls went crazy over me, especially when we won the football games, and we always won. They were brainless airheads though and I had no interest in a woman that could not have a decent conversation." He seemed pained to remember that time. "High school girls were only interested in dating the quarterback, going shopping, being taken to dances and wearing the latest trends. None of the girls had interests that I cared about. I wanted a woman, one who shared my love of engineering, one who liked football for the aspects of the game not just because I looked good in spandex. All those complicated plays I created no one appreciated them, not even the coaches. All they cared about was winning, and we did win." He paused and took a breath. He seemed to be getting agitated so I interrupted.

"I like football. Actually I have really missed not being able to watch the games since I have been here. I can name all the popular players both college and pro. I know the coaches, could anticipate the plays, fussed at the TV when they ran a play I thought they should have done differently. I attended every game I could." I watched him. He seemed touched so I continued. "You were in my house. Didn't you notice all of my football memorabilia?" I asked. My collection was a good one and I was proud of it.

"I saw it. It was quite impressive. I saw you at the games. You had no idea I was there, just a few seats away. I watched how much you enjoyed the game. How you'd shout and cheer when a play went well. You actually cheered for both teams. I never understood that. Most people cheer for their favorite teams and are quite strong in their passions. You're different though." He seemed curious now. I had to keep this going. I had to prolong the inevitable as long as I could. Maybe he would make my living conditions a little more tolerable, but I knew I had to keep him talking.

"Well, for me it's about the game, the skill of the players, and the design of the plays. It doesn't matter to me who's playing. What I want is a well executed game. I like watching the skills shown when players execute complicated plays. I don't care who executes them, even if it's a hated team. If the play is good they get my respect." That was true. I liked all of the teams and most of the coaches. "I remember this game I was watching on TV. It was a college bowl game many years ago. Two teams from the Big Ten had this awesome rivalry and were in this bowl together. Both teams were amazing. It was a very close game. As a matter of fact I think it was tied and getting close to the end. The blue team ran a play I had never seen before and haven't seen it executed properly since. It was a lateral play. I think every player on the team touched the ball. They won the game with that play. It was the most amazing play I have ever seen." I commented with the most awe I could. I waited to see what he would do.

David looked at me as if he were confused. Is it so strange that a woman would enjoy the game? Or know about those special plays? He relaxed a little, as if I had surprised him. Maybe I had. I hadn't spoken this much since I was brought here. It was actually refreshing and I was enjoying it a little to my own surprise. I didn't want it to end, even if David was the one I was talking to. It was nice to have a real conversation that was about the world beyond these walls.

"Your knowledge impresses me. I remember that game. It was a very impressive play. Too bad it isn't used much anymore." He reminiscence. "I must excuse myself for a moment. But I'll be right back and we'll continue this." He stood up and walked to the door. He stopped and looked back. His eyes were filled with sadness. "I wish I didn't have to do this, but I do. You know it as well as I do. When I return let's try to sum up this conversation. The sooner we get started the sooner it will be finished."

"David." I said, "Maybe we can watch a game together sometime." I suggested.

"I'd like that." He said and went out the door. But he did not lock it behind him.

I was so tempted to run out that door and escape from here, but I knew that door would only be one hurdle in this house of horrors. I knew the consequences would be a price I did not want to pay if I failed. I most certainly would fail without knowing what I would be walking into. Instead I went to the bathroom and relieved myself. I tried to get my thoughts in order so I could direct the conversation into the answers that would solve the mysteries. My time was short, he had said so. Did that mean we would not talk about it anymore or that he just wanted to get the "training" started? I still worried about the training. What was it? What would I be forced to do? Would I be raped again? I prayed that I wouldn't but somehow knew in my heart that I probably would be. David was different though. Would he be that way during the training? I prayed he would. I could have easily fallen for him if all of this had not happened. I think he knew that. Maybe it's why he chose this route. Maybe me falling for him scared him somehow. Now how to structure my questions to find out what went so terribly wrong, why this and not a normal pursuit?

I washed my face and wondered what time it was. Did it really matter? Without windows or a clock I didn't even know if it was day or night. I looked around the room and saw for the first time just how efficiently it had been planned.

There was a kitchette of sorts. It had a small refrigerator, a microwave, a few cabinets and a small sink. The microwave was secured to the counter, of course, so it could not be used as a weapon. The table was a small, square four place setting. It was made of fine wood. There was a living / sitting room. It had all the comforts of home except the TV. It was almost like living a hundred years ago except with electricity and running water. The furniture was the best money could buy. Deep cushioned sofa and chairs, pillow top mattress with Egyptian cotton sheets. Thought did go into planning this room. A lot of thought. The bedroom area was near the far wall by the bathroom. There were some terrible looking additions to the wall there. I really didn't want to know what they were for. I walked around the room, it was the only real exercise I had. I missed jogging. I missed the farm. I hoped the caretakers had not given up on me. I wish I could see the animals, even if it was only on the computer. I stopped at the couch and sat down again. It was very comfortable.

I turned my mind to getting David back into the conversation. So he had been the stalker. He had written those letters and sent me all the gifts. How rejected he must have felt when I gave them to the police. The police what a joke. They couldn't even identify the stalker. They never really helped me. Get a dog. Install security. Hire security guards. Take some self defense classes. To what end? What did it help? Here I sit. All the precautions I took, the expenses, the routine changes, the life changes helped nothing. I wanted out of here so bad. I wanted to see Phillip, hear his voice. What would David do when he found out I have chosen Phillip and not him or Chris? I think Chris all ready knows, that's probably why he hasn't been around. How much of what David did before he took me did Chris know about? I'll have to ask him when I see him. I began to wonder what David was up to, what was taking so long? I wanted to continue the conversation. I was curious about the rest of the story. The knowledge didn't change how I felt about him. He still terrified me, but I could deal with it better with what I had learned. Maybe it was something I could use, but how? I was wondering when David came back in.