I laid down on my bed, feeling the heat creeping up the back of my neck, nausea circling around my insides.

Oh, dear Lord, what was happening to me?

You kidnapped me, Zayn! You took me against my will! 

The reality was hitting me with new power.

And then...what happened?

How did I fall for you?

I had to think. I breathed in slowly through my nose, and then I exhaled through my mouth. I did that several times, forcing the panic back.

What was going on?

Did I really love you, Zayn?

Could I really love you?

You were a kidnapper and a stalker!

I stood up after the nausea faded and I paced around my room, forcing myself to think of every minute detail.

When I discovered that you had no intention of taking me home, of course I was terrified. But that was the only time I felt truly afraid of you. Of the situation. Sure, I was terrified when the cougar almost attacked me, but you rescued me.

Did I succumb to Stockholm Syndrome that quickly? That, after only a few days with you, I trusted you with my life? Or did I not have any choice?

And then I fell in love with you? How did I fall in love with you? How? HOW?

I tore my closet open and found a sweatshirt and some yoga pants. I yanked a long-sleeved shirt out of my drawer, and I dressed quickly. I strapped on my favorite running shoes, and I ran as fast and as far as I could, away from all the questions that were threatening to eat me alive.

It felt like I ran forever. My lungs were burning, my legs were starting to quiver, and I could feel that my face was on fire. I finally stopped and cried out to someone, anyone, a God of whose existence I wasn't certain.

“Please!” I shouted. “Please, help me find some answers!”

I started walking back home because I had no more run left in me. I walked slowly, weakly, wondering what I should do, what I could do. 

The worst part of all this was that I couldn't admit to anyone that I needed help sorting this out, because if I did, then I would have to admit to lying.

And that was something I wasn't willing to do.

When I returned home, I collapsed onto my bed and slept for a long time, not even bothering to shower or to pull the covers up around me.

When I woke up, the afternoon sun was already dipping low in the sky. Surprisingly, I felt much better after my punishing run, a long nap, and finally a hot shower.

It was quite late in the day, but I forced myself to do a little more research on Stockholm Syndrome. I was bound and determined to prove Dr. Conyers – and everyone else – wrong.

I prayed that they weren't right.

I clicked on some of the sites I bookmarked and eagerly began reading.

The prisoner develops a dependence upon his or her abductor.

Well, of course, I was dependent upon you, at least at first.

Positive feelings by the prisoner toward the captor are often accompanied by negative feelings by the prisoner toward his or her family, friends or authorities attempting any rescue.

No, I never felt like my family was the enemy.

The captive will show support for the captor's reasons and behaviors. 

I never supported the fact that you took me against my will, but I did understand your loneliness. I understood your brokenness. And I was ultimately thankful that things had worked out the way they had.

I was thankful that you had taken me. 

I went to another site and continued to read.

There must be a sorely uneven balance of power in which the captor must dictate what the captive can and cannot do.

Okay, that clearly didn't happen. You never made me feel like I was subservient to you. You didn't keep me in the cabin by force. You simply neglected to provide a way out. And when I thought more about it, I remembered that you were going to let me try to hike to Churchill. You didn't seem like you were going to stop me, but I decided not to go.

There must be the threat of death or physical injury to the captive from the captor.

No, NO! There was never a threat of death. You never threatened to hurt me or kill me and I knew that all along!

I finished reading, practically laughing with relief. Yes, you had made a bad decision - a stupid decision, really - but you realized it right away and you continually said you were sorry.

I finally knew the answer I'd been seeking all this time and I couldn't wait to tell you. Unfortunately, it was already too late to visit you. I called the jail to leave a message for you. I told them to let you know that I wasn't feeling well and that I would come in the morning, as soon as visiting hours were open.

The next morning, I got up early and got ready to see you. I felt bad about not visiting you the day before, but I needed to sort out my feelings before seeing you. I couldn't hurt you. And now I wouldn't hurt you.

As soon as I arrived, I was ushered into the same screen room as I always used. However, I was surprised when Janeen walked in.

And then you walked in right behind her.

“Zayn!” I screeched and I ran straight into your arms. Oh, you felt good. I couldn't believe how much I had missed your arms around me. It was incredible.

We kissed frantically, barely containing ourselves, even though Janeen was standing right there.

“Oh, Zayn, I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry I didn't visit yesterday. I just had to sort through some things.”

“It's all right, love,” you said, breathing into my hair. “I'm just so glad you're here.”

We held each other close for a few minutes, and then Janeen said, “I'm sorry to interrupt, but we should get started.”

“Oh, of course,” I said. “Is it okay that I'm here? I mean, you weren't necessarily expecting me.”

“Yes,” she said. “I was expecting you. Zayn told me when I first got here that you would be visiting. It actually works out well to have you join us. So let's discuss the case and hopefully make some progress.”

“Isn't the room monitored?” I asked.

Janeen replied, “No, they shut off the audio for a meeting like this. An appointment with your lawyer should be confidential. But they still have a video feed so that they can make sure I'm safe."

I breathed a small sigh of relief, and even though I knew the guards couldn't hear us, I hoped that you and I would tell the same story so Janeen would believe us both.

“Okay, let's start from the beginning,” she said.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! I thought. Now I could tell the story in front of you, and hopefully urge you to simply agree with it, without making it too obvious.

“Well, I left my home on November 26 to head to Frost Fire Ski Resort. About an hour into the trip, one of my tires blew out. As I was searching for my phone, Zayn came along and offered to help me, to give me a ride somewhere.”

Janeen nodded as she wrote quickly on her notepad.

“So I got into Zayn's car with him and we just felt comfortable with each other and started talking about ourselves. I told him I was really stressed out with school and that I really needed a break. He offered to take me to his cabin in Canada, and I honestly think he was joking, but I said 'Yes! That sounds fantastic!' I remember that he looked at me like I was a little crazy and then he just said, 'All right.'”

Janeen stopped and studied me for a bit. “So, you took a ride from a complete stranger, and then you accepted his invitation to go to his cabin in a remote area?”

“I didn't know how remote it was,” I said. “And I wouldn't say he was a stranger. I had seen him around Grand Forks and we'd bumped into each other a few times.”

"But you understand how much of a risk you took by going with him, correct?"

I nodded solemnly.

Janeen turned to you. “Zayn, is this what happened?” 

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Do you have anything you'd like to add?”

“No, Ma'am.”

“Okay, well, then I'd like you to tell me what happened from there.”

Please, I begged you mentally, please tell her what I told you.

“Well, I was surprised that she said yes,” you told Janeen. “But we headed north to Winnipeg and when we got to the airport, she told me she couldn't afford a plane ticket and that I should probably take her back to Frost Fire. I told her that I'd pay for the ticket and that she could pay me back.”

“So, you didn't force her to go with you?” Janeen clarified.

“Not at all,” you answered.

Good boy.

Then Janeen asked me, “Did you feel forced or threatened in any way? Like you couldn't turn him down?”

“Not at all,” I answered, parroting your words.

“Tell me about the anxiety medication,” Janeen commanded.

“Once we had our tickets ready, I told Zayn that I didn't like flying, that it made me really nervous. He said he had something that would help me.”

“And you took it?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Zayn, what medication did you give her?” Janeen asked.

“It was a prescription for sleep, actually,” you responded.

“Can you tell me the name of the drug?” Janeen asked.

“Ambien.”

“Zayn, are you aware that it's a felony to give prescription drugs to someone for whom they aren't prescribed?”

“No, ma'am. I wasn't aware of that.”

“Well, we might be able to work around that,” she said. “How much did you give her?”

“Two pills.”

“Was the dosage amount supposed to be two pills?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Then why did you give her two?”

“Because I wanted her to relax.”

Luckily, Janeen dropped that line of questioning. “Tell me about your decision not to call anyone to tell them what you were doing,” she said, directing the statement to me.

“I didn't decide not to call. When I pulled my phone out of my purse, I realized the battery was dead and I had left the charger in my luggage in my car.”

“Why didn't you use a pay phone?”

Pay phones still exist? I thought to myself.

Luckily, you jumped in and told her, “We were going to, but our flight started boarding, so I told her she could use my phone at the cabin.”

Zayn saves the day! Thank goodness you were playing along with me.

Janeen asked, “So when you got to Churchill, what happened?”

You and I both looked at each other. And you jumped in again.

“She was actually out like a light from the sleeping pills. So, I half-carried her to the charter plane.”

“You had a charter waiting?”

“Yes, I'd been to the cabin a number of times before, and I found it was most helpful to have a flight chartered and waiting when I arrived.”

“River, how did you feel when you woke up at the cabin?”

“I was disoriented. I couldn't quite remember what had happened. I got up to try to leave the room where I'd been sleeping, but I fell and hit my head,” I said, motioning to my scar.

“How long did she sleep, Zayn?”

“Let's see, we arrived at the cabin in the wee hours on the 27th of November. She slept until evening, and then I heard her fall. After I bandaged her head and put her back to bed, she slept until late the next day. I was actually kind of worried about her.”

“Did you try to call anyone on her behalf, once you reached the cabin?”

“As soon we got there, I discovered that my sat phone was dead, and the charter plane had already left.”

“River, did you ever regret going along with Zayn?”

“I did, actually. I was furious when I found out there was no way to contact the outside world. I actually tried to walk out of there, but I got hypothermia and had to go back to the cabin.”

“All right,” Janeen said. “I know this is taking a long time, but I just have a few more questions.”

We both nodded.

“Zayn, had you ever seen River before the night you rescued her from her stranded car?”

Shit, no, please don't answer that, truthfully, Zayn. I begged you to hear me in my mind.

“I'd seen her around Grand Forks a few times.”

“You're originally from England, is that correct?”

You nodded.

“What brought you to Grand Forks?”

Damn, she was asking some dangerous questions.

“My grandfather had died and I had no family left, so I decided to travel. I came to the US and wandered around a bit, wanting to find a place to settle down. There was something about Grand Forks that just felt like home.”

You smiled at me and I knew what you meant. You came to Grand Forks for me.

“How did your parents die, Zayn?”

I bit my lip. I had told everyone about it. I knew it wasn't pleasant for you to re-tell the story. I moved closer to you and held your hand while you told Janeen the tragic tale of your parents' death, and the tale of your heroism in caring for your grandfather.

When you finished, I knew you were emotionally spent. I squeezed your hand and I hoped that you would be released soon so that you could begin counseling.

Janeen ventured to ask another loaded question. "Zayn, why did you admit to kidnapping River when you were first arrested?"

You were still regaining your composure after telling your horror story. Finally, you said, "I thought River would get in trouble for just running away, you know?"

"The truth is believable, Zayn. You should stick to it," she said strongly. Something made me think that Janeen knew we weren't being entirely truthful, but she was still willing to go to bat for us.

“I have only one more question. Zayn, are you in love with River?”

“Yes.”

“And did you two have sex?”

That was a second question, by my count, and oh, my heavens, what did that have to do with Zayn being wrongfully imprisoned.

“No,” we both replied.

“Well, that's all I have. Do you two have any questions for me?”

“When do you think he will be released?” I asked, hopefully.

“I will talk to the chief of police and he will relay the details to any else involved in the case. It shouldn't be too long now.”

“Too long, meaning days, weeks?”

“It should only be a matter of a few days,” Janeen said.

You and I looked at each other excitedly. I only had one more thing to say, and I wanted to make sure the lawyer heard me.

“If I had met you, Zayn Malik, under any other circumstance, I still would have fallen in love with you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Information on Stockholm Syndrome was taken from these sources:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stockholm_syndrome

http://www.bandbacktogether.com/stockholm-syndrome-resources/#sthash.AlHcX81k.dpuf