I don't know how long it took me to walk back to the cabin. But I feared that I had sabotaged myself by running so hard when first ran away. I trusted my athleticism a little too much and I forgot all of the lessons I had learned about cold weather survival.

When I had decided to turn around and head back to the cabin, I had been overly warm from running, but now I was chilled to the bone because of the sweat I had worked up under my parka. I could have started running again, but at that point, I was so weary with the cold and the emotion of the morning. And when I tried to move faster, my muscles felt like they were already freezing, not moving and flexing as I had trained them to do during grueling hours of practice for competitive swimming. I simply willed myself to keep going, although with every step, I knew that hypothermia was setting in. It had been a long time since I had felt my fingers or toes.

I walked endlessly, in some moments thinking that I would never arrive back at the cabin or home or anywhere else. I wondered whether I was already dead and just walking endlessly toward heaven or hell. I couldn't remember anything I had done that would be worthy of hell, but it sure didn't feel like heaven. At that point, the cabin was my heaven. If I made it back, I would stay with you forever, just to avoid being that cold ever again.

I had no idea how close or how far I was to the cabin. Every tree, every branch looked the same. Every footprint that I was re-tracing. It was all endless monotony, and I was quite certain that I wasn't making any progress. At one point, I thought about just sitting down for a moment because I was so very tired. But the voice of reason told me to keep going. It sounded like a real voice from somewhere outside of me. I didn't question. I just chose to obey and continue walking.

Finally, when I rounded one more small clump of trees, I saw the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

I saw you come out of the cabin and for a brief moment, I thought maybe you were Jesus, coming to take me to heaven. You opened the door wide and just stood there and waited. Maybe you wanted me to feel welcome, walking back into my warm, apple spice cake-scented captivity.

When I was only a few steps away from you, I collapsed into the snow, barely able to comprehend what happened next. You rushed to me, and swept me into your arms. Everything was numb and distant. It felt like I was floating into your cabin and onto the love seat where you gently set me down.

You left and came back with a pile of clothing and two folded blankets, which you laid in front of the fireplace. Then you sat down at my feet and started untying my boots. The laces were crusted with ice, which you had to break apart to get them untied. You gently slipped them off my feet and laid them by the fire as well. Then you took off my socks. My toes felt numb, but as you held them between your hands, they started to feel itchy. They were red and puffy, with some spots turning white. Those spots were even more swollen than the rest. I knew that white was bad, but I could still feel the pressure of you holding each foot between your hands as your rubbed over them, so that reassured me a little.

After you warmed both my feet between your hands, you put wool socks on my feet that had been warming by the fire. They felt heavenly.

You mumbled, “wait here,” as you went to put the tea kettle on the stove as well as the pot of soup from the night before. If I had any imagination left, I might have laughed at your command because clearly, I wasn't capable of moving on my own.

You came back and placed three large logs on the fire and poked around, stirring up the embers and causing the fire to lap up the sides of the logs.

You made me lie down on the loveseat and began to unbutton my jeans. I didn't resist as I was too exhausted. I knew that you were trying to help, even though, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I still knew it was wrong that you were making me stay. You slid my ice-crusted jeans down my thighs and off my legs. The skin on my legs was bright red as well, with some white blotchy patches. You swiftly removed my underwear and slid another pair onto my body. I didn't even have the strength to be embarrassed. You held your hands in front of the fire and then you rubbed your hands rapidly up and down my legs. In everything you did, you moved swiftly, but you weren't harsh. I had expected you to be mad that I tried to run away, but you were so possessed with warming me up that there didn't seem to be any room for anger.

You took one of the warm blankets and laid it over my legs, gently lifting them and tucking the blanket around my legs and under my backside.

Then you pulled me up to sitting. I flopped like a rag doll while you pulled off my parka, then my sweater. You pulled me close so that my front side was pressed against you, and then you removed my bra. While you held me, you slipped a t-shirt over my head and slid it down over my bare breasts. It would only occur to me later that you could have fully taken advantage of me in that state, but instead you chose to protect my modesty.

Then you wrapped the other warm blanket around my upper half. You disappeared one more time and came back with a pillow, which you propped behind me so I was half sitting. You rushed upstairs and came back down with two more blankets that you laid close to the fire.

While you busied yourself in the kitchen, I watched the flickering fire, mesmerized by the way it danced and quivered. My eyes slowly closed. I felt oddly peaceful even though I had only discovered a few hours earlier that I had been kidnapped.

A bit later, I heard you say my name. When I opened my eyes, you offered me some soup. My hands were still buried inside the warm blanket, so you lifted a spoon to my mouth and I ate your leftover chicken rice soup. I ate several bites, and then you handed me a tin mug. I extricated my hands and tried to take it from you, but my hands were still stiff and not cooperating, so you wrapped one of your hands around the mug, laying your fingers over mine and together we brought the mug to my lips. It was hot chocolate. It was perfect, but I didn't exactly want you to know that. I drank a large gulp and savored the flavor and the feeling of the warmth traveling through my chest and into my stomach.

Even though I was wrapped in warm blankets and filling my insides with warm food, I still felt chilled to the bone. And exhausted. My head was starting to hurt a lot. I rubbed it and some of the bandage peeled away from the cut on my head. You quickly got up to get more supplies, but when you came back and inspected it, you told me I could probably leave it unbandaged.

My stomach was full, I was slowly warming up, and I was more tired than I'd ever been in my life. I closed my eyes and I heard you say, “I promise that I won't hurt you, River.”

I was too tired to say or do anything else, so I didn't. For the moment, I believed you, and I allowed myself to fall into a blessed sleep.

When I woke up much later, I had no concept of how much time had passed. But it was dark outside and I could hardly process how delightful it felt to be warm after having almost frozen to death. I was still very tired, but my brain was much less foggy. I heard you humming to yourself in the kitchen. I watched you as I reviewed my situation: You had planned all of this – to take me, to steal me away to your cabin. It wasn't just an impulsive act after finding me stranded along the road. I still didn't know your motives, but I had an inexplicable understanding that you really didn't want to hurt me, at least not physically. But then, why? Why kidnap me? My family had no money, so you couldn't demand a ransom.

I still knew that I had to figure out a way to get home. I had to find a way to communicate with the outside world. I would have to search the cabin when you weren't looking, to see if I could find any kind of electronics.

Or I would have to get inside your mind and get you to take me back.

Or the third possibility wasn't the most appealing, but if I could only find a weapon....

I drifted off again, only to be awakened by your gentle voice.

“River?”

I opened my eyes lazily and you were sitting in the recliner, which you had pulled up right next to the love seat.

“You need some water,” you urged, handing me a tin cup.

“Why? So you can drug me again?” I scoffed.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled.

“Are you really sorry, Zayn?” I asked. “Because if you're really sorry, you'll take me home.”

“I'm not sorry that you're here,” you said bluntly.

“Then you're not sorry at all.”

“Please, just give me a chance, but first, drink some water, okay? There's nothing in it – it's from the well.”

I took a sip, and then, realizing how thirsty I was, I gulped down the whole cup.

“Zayn?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you take me?”

“You needed help.”

“I only needed to get to a repair shop to have someone tow my car and fix the tire.”

“You needed more help than that,” you answered.

“What are you talking about?” I said, my voice laced with contempt. “Why would I need help?!”

“You were unhappy.”

“I was not unhappy,” I said. “I was just stressed out. College is stressful.”

“You've been unhappy your whole life.”

“Who are you? God?” I couldn't believe I was actually sitting there, conversing with you, my kidnapper, as if we were debating some philosophical perspective in one of my college classes.

“No, River. I'm not God. But I just want to make you happy,” you said, and then you stood up and walked away, effectively ending the conversation.

I was still too tired to argue, and far too weary to attempt to run away again. I wouldn't want to run away again anyway. Freezing to death wouldn't be my idea of a successful escape attempt.

I fell back to sleep until the wee hours of the morning.. I woke up, feeling completely warm and rested. It was still quite dark, but I could tell that dawn was breaking by the gray light filtering in through the small windows of the cabin. You had slept in the recliner next to me, with the footrest kicked up and several blankets over you. I wondered whether you had slept there because you wanted to stop me from leaving again, or if you were just worried about me.

I moved the heavy blankets off my feet and pulled the socks off. I wiggled my toes. There seemed to be some mild blistering, and when I moved my toes, they stung, so I sucked in a pained gasp, which woke you up. You sat up and looked at my feet.

“I'm sorry,” you said again.

“For what?” I snapped.

“That your feet hurt,” you said.

“You should be. It's your fault,” I said venomously.

“It's not my fault you tried to run away.”

“It's your fault I had to run away!” I shot back. “Don't you realize that this is wrong?! I mean, you're keeping me like I'm a pet! I didn't want this Zayn! And I wasn't unhappy with my life. You're delusional!”

I saw a flash of anger in your eyes and it scared me. Sure, you had a nice, gentle, sweet demeanor, but you had indeed kidnapped me, which meant something was not quite right with your moral compass, so I wasn't sure if you might snap and become violent. Just because I hadn't seen that side of you yet didn't mean that it didn't exist.

I shut my mouth and didn't say anything else. You sat for a long time and looked at the fire. Then you stood up and said, “I'm going fishing.”

Good, I hope you freeze to death, I thought. But I didn't say it, of course, not wanting to anger you again. And if you did freeze to death, I might never get out of here, because I still had no idea where here was.

You went upstairs and I could hear you opening and closing the doors of the wardrobe. You came back down, layered with so much clothing that you looked like you had put on twenty or thirty pounds. You pulled on a heavy jacket from a small closet that I hadn't noticed, and then you put on a hat with flaps around the ears and some heavy gloves. You looked a little dorky, but at least you'd be warm, I guess.

You brought a small pitcher of water and a tin cup and put it on the table next to me. Then you pulled out some granola bars and some dried fruit as well, and placed them on the table.

“Do you need help getting to the bathroom before I leave?”

“No!” I snapped. “I wouldn't ask for your help with that anyway!”

“You shouldn't walk until your feet are healed,” you said quietly. And then you left.

I laid there for a bit, thinking of ways to convince you to let me go. Well, no, I had to convince you to take me home, because you let me go yesterday and I almost died. You knew I'd come back, I suppose, but I was feeling a little unsettled about the fact that you hadn't come after me. What if I, in fact, had not come back? Would you have come after me and tried to find me? I must have been gone for three or four hours, and maybe when you were opening the door, you were just deciding to come out and search for me.

As much as I despised the idea, I finally decided I was going to have to get close to you. Maybe I would have to try to lead you on a little, to make you think I was on your side. Although I still wasn't quite sure what your side was. You had wanted me, specifically - not just any old female - since you made an elaborate plan to snatch me from my “unhappy” life. Somehow, you thought that dragging me out to a cabin with you in the middle of nowhere would make me happy?

It hadn't been long since you left. I realized that I did have to go to the bathroom, but I'm glad I didn't give you the satisfaction of helping me.

I stood up and winced at the sharp pain from the tiny blisters all over my toes. I tried to walk on the parts of my feet where there were no blisters, but unfortunately, they were all over. I just clenched my teeth and walked there quickly. I managed to slide down the flannel pants you had put on me. Then I slid down my underwear, which I soon discovered were boxer shorts. I guess you hadn't thought of everything – like getting my luggage from my car or actually buying me women's underwear. I wondered how long it would take to convince you to take me home. I didn't want to think about what would happen when I got my period.

I peed quickly and stood back up, cursing at the pain in my feet. I washed my hands and then decided to have a look inside the bathroom cabinets. The small medicine cabinet over the sink held economy-sized bottles of aspirin, ibuprofen, acetaminophen. There was a green toothbrush, and the purplish one that I'd used a few nights ago.

I closed the cabinet and looked inside the bigger cabinet that you had shown me. There were towels, washcloths, sheets, and first aid supplies. I dug out a roll of gauze, some antibacterial cream and some first aid tape. I looked around for first aid scissors, but there weren't any in that little bin. I scanned everything else in the closet and couldn't find anything with which I could cut the first aid tape or the gauze.

I hobbled to the kitchen and began pulling out drawers and throwing cabinets open, wanting to get off my feet as soon as possible, but I couldn't find one stupid pair of scissors. So I searched for a knife – anything would do – a steak knife, a butcher knife, a paring knife, but there were no knives anywhere that I could see. I dropped carefully to my knees and crawled over to the pantry. I flung the door open and looked everywhere. There were a few boxes of miscellaneous supplies. One was labeled “garden” and one was labeled “Christmas”. I dug through them, but there was not one single sharp implement. Nothing at all.

I realized that I had a pair of nail clippers in my purse, but I didn't see my purse anywhere. You must have brought it back into the bedroom upstairs. I knew I couldn't make it up the stairs in this condition, so I crawled back over to the loveseat where I had thrown the first aid supplies. I climbed up onto it and put my feet up on the recliner. I opened the tube of antibacterial cream and spread it onto the blisters, clenching my teeth until the stinging sensation went away. I wrapped the clean gauze around one foot, and then the other, while one end remained attached to the gauze roll. I left a long stretch of gauze between one foot and the other, just in case I had to hobble back to the bathroom, but my feet were now bound together in a way, kind of like a mummy. I couldn't do anything to cut the gauze until you came back and gave me a knife or a pair of scissors.

After I had doctored my feet, I just sat and waited. I thought about going to the closet with all the books and finding something to read, but I didn't want to move my feet again. I closed my eyes and tried to summon all the creativity I had to figure out how I could escape.

I knew I couldn't get away by walking my way out of there because that had failed miserably. Even if I were to bundle up, prepare myself for the cold, and pack some supplies, I had no idea where we were or how long it would take me to get out or which direction to go.

It was so maddening that I had no technology at my disposal. It was even more maddening to think that I'd been missing for four days now and my family was undoubtedly sick with worry. It wasn't my fault, but I hated that this was happening to them even more than the fact that it was happening to me. I was okay, but they didn't know that. They would be searching...

They would be searching!

Of course, they would be searching, so I had to figure out a way for them to find me!

I looked at my boots by the fireplace, and as much as I dreaded having to stuff my tender feet back inside, I knew it had to be done. I had seen you carrying wood in from outside, so I knew you had a stash outside the cabin. I would build a giant stack of wood, and with any luck, I might find the fuel you used for your generator, and I would light a bonfire. Even thought I hadn't found knives, I had seen a plentiful supply of matches when you were showing me around. Hopefully someone would see my fire, either from the air or from a road if the smoke was dark and thick enough.

Luckily, my hat and gloves and mittens were near the fireplace as well, and they were dry. I sat up and leaned as far as I could to try to snatch them up to put them on. I would wait to put my boots on until the end. I hastily zipped my jacket and tugged on my hat.

Then I reached for my boots. I carefully slid your wool socks on over my bandages, but then I remembered that the stupid gauze roll was still attached. I sat for a moment and then I had an idea. I lowered myself to the floor and scooted close to the embers of the fireplace.

I made a loop between my feet and the gauze roll, and then I put the end of the loop into the fire. After a few seconds of a controlled burn, I blotted out the remaining embers on the gauze with a chunk of wood. I placed the roll back onto the table, next to the antibacterial cream. Then I did the same thing with the length of gauze between my feet, making a loop and burning the end of the loop until my feet were separated.

I sat and carefully loosened the laces on my boots as much as I could. Then I slid my feet inside and I pushed myself up, using the recliner as leverage. I walked toward the door, and the gauze bandages helped to dull the pain from the blisters, but they still hurt. I ventured cautiously outside, not knowing how far away you were or if you'd be angry at me for trying to build a fire.

I walked once around the small cabin to take inventory. I found the generator. It was almost enclosed by the snow. There was one can of fuel next to it, although I was certain you had more fuel stashed somewhere. I didn't think it would take much to start a fire once the wood was in place. I looked around for the chopped wood that you had brought in for the fireplace. I finally spotted a small lean-to about thirty yards from the cabin, and inside of it, the wood was piled high.

It seemed so far to go, but I lumbered over there, wincing as the bandages shifted and my feet burned with pain. I took stock of the wood in front of me. Then I happened to notice several more red cans of fuel next to the pile. Bingo! I discovered your fuel supply. If I wanted to get the job done quickly, I could have just emptied one of the fuel containers over the wood and lit a match. But since I didn't know how far we were from actual civilization or how long it would take someone to find me, I didn't want to burn everything up all at once, including the fuel for the generator. I knew you had many candles to burn for light, but I rather liked the convenience of having electricity in the cabin. And come to think of it, I liked the warmth from the fireplace, too, so I didn't really want to use up all the wood.

And so I began the arduous task of creating a bonfire, a few pieces of wood at a time. I first laid out an enormous circle of logs, and then I filled it in with overlapping chunks of wood, small and large, leaving spaces for air to get in so the fire could breathe. After a very long, painful time, the wood pile for my fire wasn't as big as I hoped it would be. I knew I had to sit down soon because my feet were extremely sore and irritated and I had tears dripping down my face even as I worked.

I really had no idea how large the fire should be or how long it would burn or how black the smoke would be. When the pain in my feet became so bad that I knew I would have to go back inside and treat them, I screamed out several times in frustration. It felt good, somehow to hear my shrill voice piercing the cold air around me. So I kept screaming for several minutes.

Then I began the painful walk back to the cabin, but before I reached the door, I saw you running out of the woods, water sloshing out of your pail.

“What's wrong?!” You asked, your eyes blazing with fear. “What happened? Are you okay? Why are you walking around? I told you to stay off your feet!”

I gulped hard and then I really started crying. I felt like a little kid being reprimanded for her disobedience, but I was mostly crying out of frustration and pain.

You dropped the bucket of fish and picked me up like a princess, carrying me into the cabin while I sobbed onto your jacket.

You helped me get out of my outerwear, and then, just like yesterday, you sat on the floor and removed my boots. You were careful about removing the wool socks, but I still sucked in a sharp gasp when they moved over the bandages. You carefully unwrapped the gauze and we both regarded my bloody feet in shock. The blisters had popped and were rubbed raw.

You went into the bathroom and you came back with a towel, which you laid onto the recliner. You looked sad as you laid my feet up on the towel. You opened the tube of ointment and carefully applied it to my blisters while I bit my lip and whimpered occasionally.

You went back outside after that. I wondered what you were doing, and what you'd think when you saw the wood pile.

After about half an hour, you came back in with several fish, scaled and fileted. You laid them on a cutting board, washed your hands and came over to me. “Were you trying to build a fire?”

I nodded sheepishly.

“Don't waste the wood. No one will see it.”

“Why not?”

You went back outside without answering and came back inside with the fish pail. You dumped a mass of smelly fish guts into the fireplace and then you stoked the fire which quickly consumed the mess. You finally answered my last question. “Because we're far enough north that I have to burn the guts in here, or it will attract the bears.”

“So what? There are bears in all different parts of Canada.”

“Polar bears,” you clarified.

“Shit,” I said and then slumped back in the loveseat.

I knew then that we were in the northern reaches of Canada. And even though we were in the woods, when I tried to run away the day before, I had noticed places where the trees were becoming sparse and there were only shrubs growing. We were right on the edge of the tundra. But I also knew we were close to a body of water large enough to sustain polar bears. That didn't narrow things down very much, but I knew then without a doubt that we were far enough away from civilization that I couldn't get away from you by walking.

I knew by your cryptic responses that you wouldn't just come right out and reveal our location, but I had to ask you one thing. “How did we get here?”

You looked at me and chewed on your lip, looking like you were trying to decide whether to tell me the truth. Finally you said, “a plane.”

I broke down and started crying again, covering my face with my hands. I let myself cry ugly-sounding sobs, only stopping to wipe my nose on my sleeve. I couldn't believe I was so far from home and that I had no way to get out.

You just sat there and watched me cry. You didn't say anything.

When I finally stopped crying, I said, “Zayn?”

“Yes?”

“You said you wanted to make me happy, right?”

“More than anything,” you said.

“Then please, please, please just take me home.”