Robert woke up lying on his back with the crook of his arm over his eyes. He didn't know if it was night or day, and he didn't move his arm to find out. He didn't want to be disappointed. He laid there for a while, wishing he was tired enough to fall back asleep again. Then he heard a vacuum start up downstairs. Shit, it was daytime.

He hated being awake during the day. It made him feel guilty to be lying in bed when the sun was up. He much preferred the night. Nobody cared if he spent hours in his bed at night, even if he was wide awake when he did it. And it was the best time to leave his room. If he stayed quiet, no one would know he was up and bother him.

He just wanted to be alone. It was easier that way. No one looking at you with worried expressions. No questions about how you were feeling today. No suggestions that maybe, if you felt up it, you should go out. Go for a walk maybe, or go see your mates. He couldn't fucking take it. He'd already made that mistake a few times, and he wasn't about to do it anymore.

He rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head so he wouldn't see the little bit of light seeping into his room. He tried to turn off his mind and go away.

He was awakened by his dad's voice.

"I see you're still in bed, Robbie." He pulled the covers down and saw his dad framed in his bedroom doorway. He was still dressed in his work clothes and looked upset.

"Have you been sleeping all day?" He could hear the anger in his dad's voice. He was losing his patience.

"No," he replied, even though he had. He knew if he told the truth it would open up an even more angry discussion.

"Are you planning on getting up at all?" His voice was rising.

"Uh, not sure, dad."

"Did you shower today?"

"Uh, no." Shit, when had he showered last? Had it been three days, or was it four now?

"I think you should come down and have some dinner after you have a bath." It wasn't a command - yet.

"I'll try, yeah?"

His dad sighed loudly and closed the door firmly, not quite slamming it. Then he heard his mum.

"Johnny, I didn't hear you come home."

"Has he been in bed all day?" Now his mum was going to hear it.

"I think so."

He started to shout. "It's been -!" His mum shushed him.

"Not so loud," she said quietly. "He'll hear you."

"It's been two weeks already! How long is he going to be like this?" he said less loudly, but the anger and exasperation in his voice was coming through the door loud and clear.

"It hasn't been two weeks yet. It's only been twelve days."

He heard his father make an angry noise in his throat. Robert thought he had a point.

His mum continued, "I think we need to be patient. Give him some more time."

"I think we've been patient long enough. He needs to get up and start moving on with his life!"

"Johnny, he's been through hell! Don't you think he should be the one who decides if it's been long enough?" Now his mum was raising her voice.

His parents arguing about him was new. It had started happening with regular frequency over the last week, and it didn't make him feel good.

"I'm sorry, Alice. You're right." His voice was much quieter, more soothing. "Let's not talk about it anymore, yeah? I'll get changed and then we can eat dinner." He could hear the concern in his dad's voice.

Robert was concerned too. His mum had had a heart attack after he'd been kidnapped and they'd nearly lost her. The stress of his sudden disappearance had just been too much for her. And now that he was home - he was still causing her stress. It was one more thing he felt guilty about.

He heard her sigh. "Alright, I'll go down and set the table."

It was quiet again but in his mind he couldn't stop hearing his mum saying 'he's been through hell' over and over. Images came into his head that he didn't want in there. A beautiful girl with a pale face. Vivid blue eyes with dark lashes. A soft, sweet voice. Dark brown silky hair, so thick and wavy he could bury his hands in it. And it hurt too fucking much.

He wished his mum hadn't said it. The dull ache in his chest that never seemed to go away had turned into the crushing pain again. He couldn't bear the thought of getting out of bed now and he rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. He tried to push the images out of his mind, concentrating on his breathing until the pain lessened and he could go somewhere else again.

When he woke up, it was night. He got up and quietly snuck downstairs to use the small toilet. It was better than using the bathroom upstairs next to his parent's bedroom where there was a chance of waking them up. Then he went in the kitchen and looked in the fridge. It had been over a day since he'd last eaten. He wasn't all that hungry, but he felt shaky. He knew he ought to eat something before he started feeling sick.

He found the leftovers from dinner. He pulled out a cold pork chop and started chewing on it while he took a can of pop. He went upstairs as quietly as he could with his dinner, carefully closing his bedroom door. After he finished eating, he laid back in bed and pulled the covers over his head. He concentrated on the sound of his own breathing and tried not to think.

The next day, after his dad was off at work and his mum went out, he got up to shower. When he happened to see himself in the bathroom mirror, he couldn't help looking more closely. He looked like hell. His skin was washed out and pale. His light brown curly hair was matted down and greasy. His stubble had now turned into a beard since he hadn't shaved in two weeks. He could see the pain and sadness in his brown eyes. He turned away from the mirror. He didn't give a fuck how he looked.

He showered as quickly as he could, wanting to get back to his room before his mum returned. She tended to be a lot more aggressive about trying to get him to do things when he was up. When he was in bed, she was more inclined to be sympathetic and didn't push him, leaving him mostly alone. He made it back just in time, climbing in his bed when he heard the front door open.

He was lying awake with the crook of his arm over his eyes when his mobile started vibrating. He was surprised. The calls had pretty much dried up since he'd stopped answering or returning them. He found it on the floor next to his bed under some dirty clothes and looked at the display.

Shit. He didn't want to take this call. He could let it ring through to voicemail but he knew it wouldn't work. It would ring again in ten minutes if he didn't pick up, and then every ten minutes after that until he finally answered it. He'd already played that fucking game once before.

He answered it.

"Yeah!" It came out more angry than he'd intended.

There was a hesitation, and then he heard, "Oh - hi,"

He sighed deeply, and said much quieter, "Hi." He put his arm back over his eyes and waited through a pause.

"How are you doing?"

Pretty fucking terrible. "Dunno. Alright - I guess."

"Oh, well - that's good." There was another pause. "What are you doing?"

"Lying in bed."

"Me too." He didn't say anything. "Wait, isn't it two-thirty there?"

"Uh, dunno." He uncovered his eyes and lifted his head to look at the clock on his bedside table. "Yeah, it is." He covered his eyes again.

"Oh." There was a lot of meaning in that word but he ignored it. He didn't need yet another person giving him a fucking hard time. There was a longer pause.

"Did you get my e-mails?"

"Yeah."

"Both of them?"

"Yeah, I got both of them!" He knew how to use a fucking computer, didn't he?

"It's okay if you don't want to write back. I just wanted to make sure you got them."

"I know! You already said that in the e-mails!"

"I'm sorry." There was a pause. "I just don't want you to feel bad if you don't write back. I understand."

"Yeah - I know," he said quietly with a sigh. He suddenly felt exhausted. There was a longer pause.

"You understand why I had to leave, don't you?"

Fuck. Was she really going to make him go through this again?

"I just -."

"Look, I promised my mum I'd take her shopping." She just needed to stop already.

"Oh, okay. I guess - I'll - talk to you later then?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," he muttered. He really wished she wouldn't. It wasn't like it was going to change anything. There was another pause.

"I miss you." She sounded sad. His throat was starting to hurt and the ache in his chest was getting worse. He didn't want to feel it. He didn't want to feel anything anymore.

"I gotta go. My mum is calling for me."

"Oh, okay. Tell your mom 'hi' for me?"

"Yeah, sure." There was another long pause.

"I love you, Robert." Fuck. She was crying now.

"Good bye, Georgie!"

"Bye, Robert," she choked out.

As soon as the call ended, he sat up and threw his mobile as hard as he could into his open closet, then he laid back down and covered his eyes with his arm again.

Why did she have to fucking call him? Now the crushing pain in his chest he'd felt after he drove her to Heathrow Airport was back - and it was almost more than he could bear. He struggled to stay in control and forced himself not to think. Eventually the pain eased back into the dull ache and he rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head. He concentrated on his breathing so he could go somewhere else again.

****

Wait!  What?  That was Georgie?  What the heck happened! 

If you figured out it was her on the phone before he says her name, you were very good at picking up the clues.  As you can see, the ride that ended with Stolen Hearts is not over.  There are still mysteries left to be solved!  As you read, if you enjoy this story, please consider giving the chapters a vote and let me know with a comment.  I love interacting with readers and answer every comment.

I gave this chapter the same title as the first chapter of Stolen Hearts on purpose.  And I love that both books start with Robert waking up under mysterious circumstances!  Since Stolen Hearts has a chapter titled Georgie, you can expect this book will have one as well!  ;)

This chapter is dedicated to my very own hubbie, who joined Wattpad just so he could read Stolen Hearts - and he actually finished it!  Thanks honey!