When I went to sleep that night, I could hear the wind howling and I could feel it seeping through the cracks around the window. I pulled the covers tight around me and shivered. I knew you had many extra blankets in the cabin, but I didn't want to get out of my bed and face the cold to find one. I considered going downstairs and sleeping in front of the fire, but the loveseat wasn't quite long enough to sleep on.

I finally gathered the courage to get up and search for another blanket. But that meant I had to navigate the upper floor of the cabin in the dark. Luckily, you always stoked the fire before going to bed, so there was enough light drifting up the staircase so I wouldn't accidentally fall into it. I found my way to the large wooden closet and started feeling around for a heavy blanket.

“River?”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you,” I whispered. I don't know why I was whispering since you were already awake. “I need another blanket. It's really cold in my room tonight.”

You switched on a flashlight and it shone right into the wardrobe. I grabbed a thick wool blanket and said, “thanks.”

“You're welcome to sleep next to me if you'd like. You know, to share body heat. I promise I won't try anything.”

To be honest, your offer sounded very tempting because body heat was actually a good way to stay warm, but I also thought it sounded wonderful to be pressed against your body heat. However, I quickly resisted the temptation and said awkwardly, “Uh, no, thank you.” And then I hurried back to my room.

After that, I couldn't fall asleep for a long time, but it wasn't because of the cold. I couldn't stop thinking about you, about kissing you, about how it felt to be wrapped in your arms after you saved my life.

I couldn't possibly be falling for you. You had broken far too many rules and you had deceived me repeatedly. What on earth would possess me to find that attractive? I kept telling myself that I was just having some weird reactions to the stress of being separated from my family and being held captive in such an isolated area.

That's all it could be, I told myself again and again. And I tried very hard to believe myself.

The next morning, you came in to check on me. “Did you stay warm enough?”

“Yes, thank you,” I smiled up at you.

“Do you want some pancakes for breakfast?” You asked cheerfully, and I found myself feeling grateful that you hadn't gone out fishing first thing in the morning.

“That sounds wonderful. Can I help?”

You nodded and I got out of bed and followed you downstairs. You stoked the fire as usual, and then I stood there warming myself for a few minutes before I headed to the kitchen to help you with the pancakes.

While we mixed up the ingredients, I decided to ask you a little bit about your life.

“How did your grandfather die?”

You shot me a very harsh look and then snapped, “I'd rather not talk about it.”

“Well, I think it's only fair if you tell me something about yourself since you've watched my life for the past few years.”

“River, I said no!” You practically shouted, and that shut down any further questions from me. We finished cooking in silence and then ate a quiet breakfast. It was strange to see you change moods so suddenly. You always gave me such short answers when we spoke, it was like you didn't care to share your feelings about anything. I had a hard time believing that you were the same person who wrote the sappy posts in your journals.

June 8, 2012

Dear River,

I saw you today for the first time in over a year and my heart almost stopped. Your golden hair was more alluring than I remembered it. Your skin was still fair, like an angel's. It must have been your last day of school for the summer. You skipped down the front steps of your school with some of your friends, laughing and talking about summer plans. I heard you say that you would be working at a neighborhood pool for the summer. I wonder if you will wearing the same bathing suit as you did last summer in Leigh-on-Sea.

You've filled out a bit more since last year. Your figure is perfectly proportioned and I hope that some day I can tell you in person how truly lovely you are. I hope you never have to think that you're unattractive as most girls do. You are an exquisite creation. Perhaps one day, I will draw a portrait of you. Then you will be able to see yourself through my eyes.

I blushed when I read that you had noticed my figure. I was proud of my athletic build, but you were wrong about my self-image. So very wrong. I always thought I was ugly – pale-faced, freckled, white. My friend Kassie was a tall, gorgeous blonde with skin that seemed to tan the moment she stepped into the sun. My skin only came in two colors, white or red. And I usually managed to keep it white since I practically bathed in sunscreen during the entire summer. I thought I was okay-looking, but I never considered myself beautiful. I thought I looked like a little girl. Even when I hit puberty, my breasts were fairly insignificant until that summer. Somehow they blossomed just enough to fill out an A cup, but that was enough to make me happy.

June 15, 2012

I watched you at work today, at the pool. There were many families enjoying the cool water as the day was quite hot. I watched one father in particular, playing with his son in the shallow end of the pool. It should have made me feel happy, but it made me angry. Furious. Because all I could think of was my dad who turned his back on me and took away everything I ever loved. I hope that I will be a good father one day.

I hope that I will be good enough for you.

Your last line bothered me a bit. I wondered why you would think that you wouldn't be good enough for me, or for anyone. I mean, yes, you were a stalker and a kidnapper, but I wondered what else you had done to make you think you were not good enough.

July 4, 2012

You and some of your friends went to the beach today. It was more of a sandy little bank along the river, but you didn't seem to care. You swung on the rope swing and splashed into the water. I wished I could have joined you. You looked so stunning with your hair in a loose bun and wearing red, white and blue sneakers. Your friends were there with their boyfriends and they were trying to set you up with another boy that was there. He kept trying to get close to you and hold your hand and put his arm around you, but you wouldn't let him. If he forced it, I was going to come and tell him to get lost. But you managed on your own.

You watched the fireworks with wide eyes and I watched you.

I can't believe it's already been a year since my grandfather passed. It's been much longer since my parents died, but the pain is still fresh with Grandfather. Some days, I wish he were still alive, but if he was, then I wouldn't have been able to leave England, I suppose.

I read on and on, through the summer of 2012 and into my junior year in high school. I came to an entry that startled me...because I remembered what you wrote about.

November 10, 2012

I saw you again today and I touched you. I spoke to you. You were walking home from swim practice and I could see that you were quite weary. I watch you walk home every single day because I don't think you're very safe, walking by yourself after dark. I wonder why your family allows you to walk alone.

You went into the library. I know you love books and I've seen you go in there many times. When you came out, I was beside myself with the desire just to look into your eyes, so I stepped in front of you. You bumped into me, thinking it was accidental. I held your arms for just a moment and you looked up at me and said you were sorry and then you hurried away. But I felt you hesitate when you looked at me, when your sea green eyes gazed into mine. I love your eyes, by the way. They remind me of the water at Leigh-on-Sea. Long after you had gone, my hands still felt warm from touching you.

As soon as I read that entry, I jumped up and ran to find you, book in hand. 

"Zayn! Zayn! I remember this! I remember seeing you outside the library!" 

You looked very confused so I showed you the journal entry to refresh your memory.

"Yes, I remember that," you said and then you paused. "But you seem excited about it. I thought you hated me for following you."

I stopped and processed what you said. Did I hate you? I'd sure felt that way a number of times since you took me, but did I really hate you?

I ended up taking your hand and telling you, "Zayn, I don't hate you."

"You should," you replied.

"Well, I don't hate you. I wouldn't call you my best friend or anything. The things you've done...well, obviously, they were very, very wrong and you shouldn't have done what you did. But I think I understand a little bit why you did what you did."

You nodded and I walked away. Now, I was the one feeling confused because I had to analyze what my feelings toward you really were.

I went back to reading, but the next journal entry made me realize, with absolute terror, that I couldn't be falling for you, I shouldn't be falling for you, and that I should be making every effort to get away from you.

November 15, 2012

After seeing you outside the library, I had a terrible, awful realization. I wanted you to see me and fall in love at first sight, the way that I did when I first saw you. But you didn't. You regarded me for a moment, and then you walked away.

My heart fell and I've started to think that maybe I don't really know how to win you over.

You deserve someone who loves you without question, someone who will never hurt you or betray you, someone who will care for you and provide for you, someone who will worship the ground on which you walk. I want to give you all of those things, River, but I'm a dreadful person. Perhaps it would be better for you not to see me, not to know me. As much as I want to love you and care for you, perhaps you shouldn't get too close to me.

I've killed everyone I've ever loved.