It had been five days since Harry overdosed but it felt like a year since we were trapped and spending every waking moment trying to figure out how to get free. But our relationship had grown immensely. And Harry was discovering a lifetime worth of information about himself and his family.

He was starting to get massive headaches because Theodore hadn't sent any new meds. Luckily, I remembered the few that Harry had shoved into his pockets, but some were ones he'd never taken before. However, he had a few of the anti-psychotics in there so I had cut them in half and staggered them, hoping to reduce the withdrawal effects. What really worried me was the Singulair since I didn't know for sure whether he had asthma. I would have pulled up the medical charts on my phone, but Theodore still had it, that bastard. I didn't remember seeing asthma listed on Harry's checkup sheets but it wasn't something I wanted to find out in a crisis. I remembered something about fall being bad for asthma but I didn't know whether that was due to viruses that kids passed around at school, which wasn't an issue for us, or if it was because of the rotting and dying vegetation. In any case, I kept an inhaler close at all times and reminded him how to use it.

The plus side of the minimal medication was that I was seeing the real Harry for the first time since I'd arrived. He was bright and alert, smart and even more perceptive than he'd been all along. Of course, his lack of understanding about so many things remained, simply because he'd never been taught in a proper manner. But he was an incredibly fast learner and I just knew my intuition had been correct, that Harry was a perfectly normal, functional young man.

I tried to get Theodore's attention by writing signs on paper and placing them in front of the nanny cams wherever I could prop them. I wrote that Harry needed his medication and I needed my phone, hoping he would be at least annoyed enough to come to the suite to remove the signs.

We waited a few more days while we tried to come up with ideas to get out. While we waited, we each packed a backpack with a change of clothes, an extra sweatshirt or jacket and some food like granola bars, nuts and raisins as well as a bottle of water each, in case we had to walk to Victoria or some other nearby town. In my pack, I placed a large ziplock bag with my notebook, my wallet, and $2500 cash. In Harry's pack, I put another ziplock with his birth certificate and another $2500 cash. I had never been as thankful for Theodore's "generosity" since I'd been able to keep so much money on hand while still sending generous amounts home.

In addition to what seemed like essentials, I tried to think back to my actual hiking days in high school. We had taken a family trip, and then we did a youth group trip at one point. While the family trip was hiking during the day and then returning to camp at night, the youth group trip had been real hiking, meaning we had to carry in everything we needed, including tents and sleeping bags, and carry out all of our garbage. Part of the trip was canoeing, so we also had to portage our canoes. It was one of the most physically and mentally taxing things I'd ever done. I hoped to God that if we could escape somehow, this wouldn't turn into a wilderness survival excursion.

We kept both packs inside my closet with the door closed but the understanding was that whenever we thought we might have a chance to escape, we'd grab the packs and run.

Harry had a hard time with the concrete act of packing to leave as well as with the idea that we might have to flee. I told him about my hiking experiences, even though I hoped we could just be rescued by the police or Theodore might just let us go. Or at least be reasonable enough to give me my phone back. I assured Harry that if we had to leave in a rush, we would come back after we had pressed charges against Theodore and we would get the rest of his things, and mine as well.

"I know it's scary to think about leaving," I told him. "But I'll be with you every step of the way. I lived on my own for five years, away from my parents, so I know how to rent an apartment and buy groceries and everything that we'd possibly need."

With that assurance, he put on an attitude of courage and nodded. "I know, Jules. I trust you." He kissed me deeply to reinforce his words. 

Other than brainstorming and preparing to get out, I figured it would be best if Harry and I tried to stick to a routine as much as possible. There wasn't much else I could teach him since I didn't have my phone or laptop, but he was always questioning and I was always answering, things about life which he didn't know or hadn't experienced yet, like how the internet works and what different climates are like around the world. His brain never stopped wanting to fill the gaps. So we just talked a lot day in and day out.

On the seventh day, the pills had run out completely. Harry's headache grew worse with every hour and I gave him Tylenol and Advil in overlapping doses often as possible. I also went to the door of the suite and pounded and screamed, hoping to sway the guard or to get Theodore's attention. Neither worked so I ran back to one of the nanny cams and yelled directly into it, not even knowing if he could hear me.

"Let us out, you maniac!" I screamed. "Harry needs his pills and we need more food. You can't keep us locked up in here!" I paused, hoping for some indication that he was hearing me. When there was no sign of him coming to us, I kept yelling until my voice was hoarse.

I hated that man with every fiber of my entire body, soul, and mind. 

After my voice recovered, Harry and I went outside and tried a different tactic, both of us screaming at the top of our lungs that we were trapped and needed help. We hoped that someone lived near enough to hear us or perhaps someone was traveling through the area to enjoy the fall colors. We yelled and screamed until we were blue in the face - and Harry's head hurt exponentially worse with the exertion - but nothing helped.

I cradled Harry in my arms when his headaches got so bad that he eventually vomited from the pain. I pushed the water and the over-the-counter medications we had but nothing did more than put a little dent in the pain. 

On the eighth day, he started having these jerky and spastic movements that scared the shit out of me. I did everything I could to relax him and calm him, and he enjoyed at least occasional naps in between episodes of spasms and extreme anxiety. He pleaded with me to assure him everything was going to be okay, which I did, repeatedly, even though I was terrified. He also cycled through rounds of chills, fever, and intense sweating. Instead of trying to go about our normal routine, I spent most of my time trying to make him comfortable. And I spent hours screaming at the guards and screaming at the cameras.

On the tenth day, that miserable asshole of a person finally showed up. I was sitting up on my bed with Harry dozing in my lap as I stroked his hair. The withdrawal symptoms persisted but they were beginning to lessen.

"Give me my fucking phone," I demanded when he appeared in my room.

"You can have it back for a few minutes," he said with a deranged smile on his face. "You have to make a phone call to get your parents off my back."

"Great!" I said in a biting tone. "Can't wait to tell them what a psycho you are. They'll send the police in a heartbeat."

"Well, you see, you aren't going to tell them anything," Theodore said. "Because if you do, Harry dies." He pulled his suit jacket aside to reveal a 9mm handgun strapped to his side.

I burst into desperate cries and Harry began to awaken. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled. "Why are you doing this? Why don't you just let us go?" Harry froze when he saw that Theodore was there. He just continued to lay quietly in my lap.

"Because you just told me you were going to call the police," he stated. "I can't let you do that."

"No, please," I begged. "Just let us both go. We'll go back to my home in the US and you'll never see us again. I promise if you just let us go, we'll never tell anyone what happened. Please, you have my word."

He seemed to consider my offer for a few moments but then he said, "Nice try but I don't believe you. You obviously have problems with following directions so I have no reason to trust you."

"So...what?" I asked. "You're just going to keep me here forever? Even if I lie to my parents for a while, they're going to come and find me."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said flatly. "If we come to it. I haven't decided what to do with the two of you yet."

"If you kill us, then you'll surely go to prison. You'll lose everything."

"We'll see about that," he chuckled. "I'm a very resourceful man. But that's not my plan. Not yet, at least." He looked at Harry who was lying still in my lap, shaking with fear, and then back at me. "Unless you decide to defy me yet again. Now here, take your damn phone and call your parents. And if you say anything that can be misconstrued as a plea for help, Harry will die. No sleight of hand, no calling 911 without me noticing. Just tell your parents you're having a lovely time but you've been very busy. Then tell them you'll email them soon. Oh, and put it on speaker."

I received my phone shakily from his palm and dialed my parents' number. How the hell was I supposed to keep my voice steady?

"Hello?" My mother answered. A burst of emotion fought its way out of my throat at the comforting sound of her voice. "What's wrong, honey?" There was a pause. "Juliette, is that you?"

I coughed to cover up my crying. "N..nothing is wrong, Mom," I said, trying my hardest to sound cheerful. She called for my father to pick up the other line as always. "I just have a bad cold," I lied. "I'm all stuffed up and I haven't taken a decongestant yet today."

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie," Mom answered. "Take care of yourself. It's the season when cold and flu will really get you down. And get as many fluids as you can."

"I know, Mom." I covered the microphone part of my phone while I fought for control of my emotions.

"Have you had any luck with the boy's father? He really needs to fill you in on Harry's conditions," she said and I cringed. "I can't imagine anyone who would keep that kind of vital information from the nanny, for heaven's sake." Theodore shot me a pointed look.

"Yeah," I lied again. "I'm...uh...getting some more information. Things are going better now."

"Oh, I'm glad," she said.

"So you coming home for Christmas?" Dad piped up.

"No," I squeaked and then started crying harder. Theodore pulled the gun from its holster and jabbed it into Harry's neck.

"Aww, I'm sorry, honey. Didn't mean to make you upset. Why can't you get home?" He asked.

Despite Theodore's heinous threat, I still had my wits about me. I acted like I was having a coughing fit and finally spoke. "I...the family invited me to spend Christmas here. They have some really neat traditions I'd like to be part of." I shot Theodore a sneer and saw that Harry was basically playing dead on my lap but with tears streaming down his face. "Hey, I'm sorry to cut this short, but things are pretty busy so I have to run."

Theodore mouthed out the word email and I added, "I'll email you soon."

"Okay, honey. Sorry you're so homesick," Mom said. "It probably doesn't help to have a nasty cold on top of that."

"No, it's okay. Harry is great company and I love working with him, so I'm usually pretty distracted." I could at least say that much with complete sincerity.

"Okay, love you," my parents said in unison. "'Bye."

"I love you, too," I trembled and then ended the call, bursting into full-on wailing, wondering if I'd ever hear their voices again.

Theodore withdrew the gun from Harry's neck. "Great, now that that's taken care of, I can stop being plagued with annoying phone calls for a while," he said, snatching my phone and switching it off.

"Please," I cried out. "Why won't you just let us go? Harry is old enough to be on his own and I can help him. I promise, we won't ever bother you again."

"I'm not that stupid," he spat. "He's staying right here and apparently, so are you, until I can figure out how I want to get rid of you." The insinuation made my gut harden into a tight ball.

"Fine," I agreed as if I had a choice in the matter. "Just give Harry his meds, please. He's in pain and the withdrawal is awful," I begged.

"Oh, so now you want to give him his meds," Theodore mocked. "I'll see what I can do. I'm not completely unreasonable, you know."

"And food. We need food," I added. "If you would just let me go and get some, I wouldn't even take my phone and Clive could make sure I don't contact anyone. Please."

"Clive," he barked with a laugh but then he informed me coldly, "Clive is gone."

"What do you mean gone?" I asked.

"What do you think gone means?" He replied in a snide voice. "Now just be good and don't get into trouble. And maybe things will turn out all right."

Like I would ever believe that man. I watched as he retreated out of our space and, as soon as he was gone, Harry sat up and clutched me to himself, both of us sobbing and exchanging sighs of gratitude and relief.

* * * * *

You wanted drama. You got drama.