All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Try To Understand
“Savannah, you don’t understand.” His eyes were pleading with me, but I looked away, about the only thing I could do at the moment. I glanced down at my feet, duct taped to the legs of the chair and I tested the strength of the tape around my hands. Pretty strong.
“Why am I tied to a chair?” I asked, my voice cold. He lowered his eyebrows angrily.
“Because, Savannah, you don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand? Your need to hold me hostage? Your need to threaten me?” My voice was rising in volume and hysterics.
“Savannah, I love you so much, and if you leave, I’ll kill myself. I love you more than anything. Savannah, try to understand.” His lips formed a hard line and he clenched his fists.
“I wasn’t leaving you. I just wanted to tell you something.” My voice cracked at the word “something”. I hoped he hadn’t heard it. His expression softened a little and he stepped forward. His hand, which I had dreamed of holding close to me forever, brushed a strand of my dark brown hair from my face. I felt a lump growing in my throat and angrily tried to swallow it so I could talk.
“What did you want to tell me?” He asked kneeling down so our eyes were level.
“I don’t want to tell you anymore.” I looked away from his perfect face. A growl formed in his throat and spun around, knocking everything off his little kitchen table. I flinched and bit my lower lip to stop it from quivering.
He had his hands on the kitchen sink, his arms supporting him, and he stared down into it, his back to me.
“Was it important?” he asked in almost a whisper. I closed my eyes and felt the tears start to fill them.
“Kind of.” I whispered back. I wish I was somewhere else, somewhere far, far away.
“Then you have to tell me.” He turned slowly and leaned against the counter, his arm crossed.
“Untie me, and I will.” I said keeping my voice quiet so it wouldn’t crack.
“What if you leave, run away.” A look of worry flashed in his eyes, but he quickly corrected it to a cold glare again.
“I need to tell you, I won’t run.” I said trying to make eye contact with his ice cold gray eyes. He just nodded and grabbed a knife from a drawer. I held my breath and my heart pounded wildly in my chest as he slowly cut each of my legs free and then my hands free. I stood up and released my breath and sucked in a new one. He sat the knife down and took my hand gently, pulling me into the living room. We sat down on the couch and I looked down at my knees.
“Well?” He asked, impatience in his voice.
“I’m, pregnant.” I said the words flatly, trying to force the tears in my eyes to go back where they came from. The silence that surrounded us was suffocating. I didn’t look at him, for fear of what I would see, but I felt his arms slip around me, pulling me to him gently. I was soon curled up against his solid chest, crying into my hands as he tried to sooth me. He held me like that for what seemed like eternity and when I had finished my crying and had fallen asleep, I knew he wasn’t lying when he said he loved me more than anything.