Food mysteriously arrived in our kitchen a few days later; it must have been brought in while we slept. What kind of whack-job game was Theodore playing, threatening to kill us and holding us hostage but still feeding us? It was pretty cowardly, if you ask me, to send food and meds when we were sleeping so he didn't have to deal with us.

I definitely wasn't complaining about the food, though, since Harry and I had been eating mostly peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But Theodore was playing mind games and I refused to be manipulated. In fact, if I ever got that fucker alone in a room, I would happily force-feed him a lifetime worth of anti-psychotics since he was clearly the one with severe mental issues.

Harry's withdrawal had vanished with the new low doses of medications. It was getting colder outside but we went out every day and tried to come up with a way to escape. The water of the inlet couldn't be more than 45 or 50 degrees this time of year so swimming was out of the question completely, not knowing how long we'd have to be submerged. Even though I'd been a competitive swimmer, I didn't know how to stay warm in that kind of water and neither of us had wet suits handy.

I had begun to think that the road that passed by the estate was a dead end because we never saw cars traveling past. Ever. We kept wishing and hoping and praying for someone to make a wrong turn and end up where we could scream and yell for help but it just didn't happen. It kind of pissed me off because Theodore had told me that "many" of his clients came to the house but where the hell were they now? Nevertheless, we screamed and yelled and hollered for help from all the corners of the property that we could reach on foot. Unfortunately, I had never realized how secluded we were until now.

The fences were anchored a good way into the ground and the ground was starting to freeze, so even digging under them wasn't really an option without some heavy equipment, and I hadn't seen as much as a shovel in our quarters.

We thought about breaking the windows in the doors to the main house  and trying to get out, but there was always an armed guard standing in front of them. Neither of us wanted to have a gun pointed at us again.

We spent many days hiking, brainstorming, and talking. Harry had shifted from wanting to know about science and math to wanting to know about "adult" things like driver's licenses and voting and mortgages. He was really getting interested in what kinds of responsibilities he would have when we got out of this wretched place.

When. We always said when we got out. Not if.

One afternoon, we were snuggling by the fireplace in his treehouse. It was our favorite spot on cold fall days to just cuddle. And make out, of course. He was slouched in the boho-style daybed and I was burrowed into his side with my arm slung across his chest.

"How do people get married?" He asked out of the blue.

"What do you mean?" I wondered, bringing my hand up to pet his face, feeling the stubby whiskers under my fingertips. As far as I knew, he shaved about once a week and didn't have much regrowth. It was definitely cute.

"I mean when two people want to get married, they have to go to a church, right?" He said.

My heart warmed as I grinned up at him from my cozy place against his chest. "Not always. But once people know they want to get married, they decide how to do it. There are two parts to it. One is the legal part and the other is the church part. You are required by law to get a marriage license in order to be legally married, at least in the US and Canada. And if you want your marriage to be recognized by a particular church, then you should do that, too."

"Do you want to get married in a church?" He asked.

"I think so," I told him. "It's been a long time since I've been to church but my parents still go. And I'd love to have a big wedding with a beautiful gown and a lavish reception afterwards."

"That sounds nice," he said.

"Mhm," I agreed.

"How do you know when you're supposed to get married?" He asked.

"Well, I think couples talk about it a lot before it happens," I said. "They talk about spending their lives together and what matters to them, like jobs and children and where they want to live. I think they both know when the relationship becomes serious enough to talk about getting married. And it's traditional for the man to ask the woman to marry him and give her a ring. But not everyone does it that way. Sometimes they just decide together."

"What's your family like?" He asked, changing direction abruptly.

"Kind of loud," I said. "But very loving and friendly. We enjoy being together, especially for the holidays. Now that my oldest sister is married and my other sister is engaged, the crowd is getting bigger. Pretty soon, I'll probably have nieces and nephews so it will only get louder and crazier," I said, warmed by the thought of my family and my parents' house on Thanksgiving Day. And somewhat saddened, too. I missed them like crazy.

"You have a brother, too, right?" He asked.

"Oliver," I said. "He's 18. I think you'll like him."

"D...do you w...want...want  them to meet me?" Why was he stuttering again? "I mean...do you think they'll like me?"

I turned my body so my chin was resting on his chest and I looked up at him. "My family will love you," I assured him. "I'm certain of it. You are friendly and funny and kind. And you make me happy, so that's important to them."

"I do?" He asked.

"Of course you do," I smiled. "Do I make you happy?"

"More than anything in the world," he breathed. While I was warmed by the devotion in his voice, I wondered what it would really be like when we got out of here. I wanted him to make friends and have a life that didn't necessarily revolve around me. I mean, yeah, most girls want their guys' lives to revolve around them, right? But not really. I wanted him to find balance, to find fulfillment in things like friendship and accomplishment and hobbies and a career. I couldn't be his everything all the time. But right now, I kind of was.

"What-" Harry began to speak but then he choked up a bit. "What is it like? Ha...having a fam...family?"

I squeezed him as tightly around his ribcage as I could. Maybe it was emotion that was causing him to stutter. "It's wonderful Harry. When I was growing up, I went to school every day, of course, but when I came home, my sisters and I would always sit around the TV and watch the soap operas we recorded while we were gone."

"What's a soap opera?" He asked.

"It's a TV show that's usually centered around one particular family and all their friends and acquaintances. So there will be several different story lines happening all at once - one couple falling in love and getting married, another couple fighting and getting divorced, someone getting jealous of his best friend's inheritance. But the story lines all weave together somehow."

"Sounds complicated," he chuckled.

"They are," I chuckled. "And they're very dramatic, like people murdering each other and covering up the evidence or someone dying a mysterious death only to come back years later and not remembering who they are. I honestly don't know why I was so obsessed."

"And then what happened?" He asked, and I knew he was asking about my family, not the soap operas.

"We all had to help with chores before dinner, helping Mom cook or putting our laundry away, taking out the trash. Then we sat down for dinner as a family most nights. We usually talked about how our days went. Then, after we cleaned up dinner, we would do homework or hang out with friends."

"Sounds awesome," he said wistfully.

"It was," I said softly and then I got choked up when I said, "I miss them."

He squeezed me and kissed my temple. "You'll see them again. I know it," he said.

"Thanks, Harry. Family is really important. My parents have always been there for me to talk to, to get advice, to help me through hard times. That's what you should have had and I'm so sorry you didn't."

"Yeah," he whispered.

"But I can promise you one thing," I told him.

"What's that?"

"I'm here now and I'll be there for you, no matter what."

"Thank you," he said.

I got up and stoked the fire, admiring the fiery-colored leaves swirling around outside the treehouse in the gusty winds. I loved the fall. If I could just isolate this moment, being here with Harry and talking about life - instead of fearing for our lives - it would be perfect. I sat down next to him again and snuggled in tighter.

"Do you believe in God?" He asked me.

Wow, I wasn't expecting that. "Yes, I do," I answered. "Like I said, it's been a long time since I've been to church but I still believe he's real. How much do you know about God?" I wondered.

"Not a whole lot," he admitted. "Lots of books talk about him but I never learned much. Nanny Margaret had a Bible and she used to read it every day but the words were really small and the few times I tried to read it, it sounded boring."

"Do you have a Bible somewhere?" I asked.

"I don't think so," he said. "I just wonder if God is mean."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, Nanny Margaret always said if I didn't follow the Ten Commandments, I'd go to hell but she never told me what the Ten Commandments were. I asked her once and she just said I was such a bad boy for not knowing."

I huffed in annoyance. "Nanny Margaret is a bitch." He laughed loudly. "I think God is loving and kind but bad things still happen to us because he lets people make their own choices."

"So he let Theodore treat me badly and didn't stop it."

"Yeah, I guess he did, Baby."

"Why do you call me Baby?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, don't you like it when I call you that?" I said, realizing that maybe he thought I was calling him a baby. "It's a term of endearment for someone you love. But if you don't like it, I won't say it anymore."

"No, I like it," he said, his wide irresistible grin crossing his face. "I heard someone say it to his girlfriend in a movie once and I liked it. So it's okay."

"Good," I answered, stretching up to kiss him.

"I want to believe in God," he said, "But I wonder why he didn't help me. Why did he let my parents die?"

"Oh, Harry, those are really hard questions and I don't know the answers. But when we get out," I said and then looked him square in the eye and repeated, "When we get out, maybe we can go to church and talk to someone who might have answers. Would you like that?"

"I'd love it."

* * * * *

You guys are super awesome!

Oh, and in the words of the wise Samuel L. Jackson in Jurassic Park, "Hold onto your butts!" ;)