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was a barber. A tray was wheeled in pushed by yet another man
following after them. HE was outside of my crispness of vision.
There was a déjà vu of a younger face overlapping the current
reality. I met him when I was eighteen. I m thirty-two now...so that
was fourteen years ago? I haven t seen him for seven years. He
should have changed more than he had. Shouldn t he?
He walked forward in his perfectly tailored suit, crisp white
shirt and silk tie. He was dressed like a man of influence but he
wasn t. He worked for a man of influence. Still he was the Man s
right hand man so he had a big budget to make sure that he looked
damned good. He had changed. He had gotten more distinguished
over the last years if that was at all possible.
Tre-don. Do we need to renew our acquaintance? His voice
was the same as the one that spoke to me in my dream, er, memory.
Eldon. A one word name. Like Madonna. Like Cher. Like
me.
Is Jean dead?
Eldon folded his forearms over his chest as he stood at the end
of the bed. Non-lethal incursion. An instantaneous paralyzing
tranquilizer. It was a good field test of our new pharmaceutical.
Tredon Industries is still the leader in innovation in the
pharmaceutical world even though you took a runner on him. Now,
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My Hostage My Love
are you going to be good or do you need to escorted? He placed a
stress on the word escort.
Nothing had changed with him. I was still regarded as the
street corner whore.
I need to be escorted. Not that I was trying to be an ass but
I felt so damned weak. I didn t need to be slamming my head off
the berber carpet, again. Over the years, I ve learned to pick my
battles.
He approached and pulled on my chin angling my face up to
stare into my eyes. I don t think that this is a side effect of the
drug. You are and yet, you aren t. He said that you were a new
person. I thought he was looking at you through rose-colored
glasses again. I have to concur. He is right. You couldn t act your
way out of paper bag.
Him? Vague memories of someone trying to talk to me.
Touching me. It wasn t Erik. The hand was cool to the touch.
Nothing. It was a big blank. Why would I pick up memories on
Eldon but not this mysterious employer? He?
You truly don t remember Henrich Audric? Eldon tightened
his grip on my face. His pale blue eyes stared into mine. I couldn t
lie to him. Why did I know that he would be able to tell if I tried?
How about Henry?
Nothing. No flutter of recognition. No involuntarily muscle
tension. Henrich Audric. The name mentioned absolutely nothing
to me.
How about Father? Eldon still held my face.
I m an orphan. I don t have a father.
No, Henry isn t your father, not in the traditional sense but
once upon a time, you called him Father. You broke his heart when
you ran away, Tre-don. You wounded his soul when you turned
into that menace called The Devil. You should see the shrine that
he built for you when the world reported you were killed. A shrine
in memory of someone, we both know that you never were. His
face went all wonky and the sound of a train filled my ears.
Darkness began to call to me again but I still heard Eldon s quiet
voice. I will not allow you to hurt Henry like that again, Tre-don.
I ll kill you myself if it comes to that.
God, I used to be such a winning personality.
It still didn t tell me where the hell I was and why I called
someone who I think touched me in a familiar and possessive way,
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Derekica Snake
Father. Erik...where are you now? I m sorry I raped you. Even if
you did want it, it wasn t right. I m not who you think I am. I m not
who this Eldon thinks I am. I m still not sure who I am but I do
know my name.
It sure as hell isn t Tre-don.
I am Trevor. Just Trevor.
I knew Eldon was still holding my face and his voice was
fading in and out but I couldn t make out any of the sounds.
Darkness engulfed me and this time, oblivion wrapped me in her
ever loving arms. My final thoughts were of blue green eyes and
hair the color of ripened wheat.
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My Hostage My Love
Lesson Eleven: The Answer is
Always Yes
arcolepsy. I think I had it now from too many blows to the
head, the only other explanation was that I was fragile. I
N
don t know what would be worse, an illness or being shown
that I was weak.
I kept fainting, every time I tried to move into a vertical
position I ended up passing out. A few times I crashed to the floor,
the rest of the time I was highly supervised and I was caught before
I hit something unforgiving. The rate I was going I was going to
need a padded room as my permanent residence or a crash helmet
just to keep from doing myself serious harm. I was like one of those
fainting goats I get kidnapped and I pass out, I get kidnapped
again, I pass out again.
If so, then I guess I just have to stop getting kidnapped. Easier
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