Small victories.

                                    

                                          
(Amy's POV )


I toss my last ball of paper at the trash can across the basement, it hits the rim before tumbling to the floor. It's been weeks, since I had first awoken in this basement. I'm still no closer to finding a way out of here, and I'm slowly losing my sanity to the many hours of boredom. Not a lot to do here besides watch the same six movies, and read the same three books.... Well now two.  
I've been as compliant as one can be. Surprisingly, and thankfully he hasn't tried to sexually assault me since that first night here. But I feel like I'm still not getting this chain off of me any time soon. He doesn't trust me...well obviously. Who'd trust their prisoner?  
At least I've been able to figure out his schedule, every morning he wakes up. Probably around five in the morning, he makes a bunch of food, brings down a box of stuff for me, and then he gets ready heading off to what I assume is work. Well that's what he says he's doing. 
Then he's back an hour-ish after sunset usually with takeout or something for me. Then we watch a movie or talk...he wants cuddles. I fake sleep, he leaves, and the system repeats the next day. It's gonna take some pretending, and a whole lotta biting of my tongue to get him to trust me. All those summers spent at performing art camps better pay off now.
I've spent a long while thinking about what exactly he wants from me. I think I pretty much have an answer. He wants an obedient housewife. Someone who will put up with his misogyny, make him dinner, pleasure him at his beck, and call. A woman who never talks back, and is okay with being his slave. 
I suppose in order to gain his trust, I need him to believe I'm exactly that. Completely Stockholm. 
It won't be easy, but I guess it's what I have to do to find a way out of this. 
I stand from the mattress walking over to a shelf by the window. I pull out my bag of weed, and the homemade pipe I made from a soda can from behind some books. I load it up with some bud, and use my permanent match keychain that was also in the lining of my jacket to take a hit. 
At least I have this, it's honestly the only thing that's keeping me from completely losing my cool. I almost blew it a few times, that bastard really thinks that he can somehow win me over with food, and gifts. As if it's going to change the fact that he has killed so many people in my life, and nd how he tricked me into going on that date with him. I should have never gotten in that stupid car with him.  But I always remind myself of the goal, and although I'd love to give him a piece of my mind... That will just have to wait for another day. A few hours later, and the sound of the door opening upstairs grabs my attention as I'm rummaging through the box Travis left me this morning.
"Hmm strange, the sun hasn't even begun to set yet. I wonder what he's doing back so early," I mutter to myself.
I listen closely as footsteps travel around upstairs, but after half an hour he still hadn't come down. Soon the smell of food cooking has traveled down here to the basement. I suppose he decided to cook tonight. Hoping to look like I've been doing more than just sitting here, and plotting. I head over to the TV, and stick 'The Iron Giant' in the DVD player. The sound of the basement door opening follows a few minutes later.
"Back so early?" I ask as I fix the blankets on the mattress. 
I turn at his lack of answer only to lay my eyes on a man I've never seen before. His eyes widen, and he says not a word as he  quickly turns to climb back up the stairs.