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It’s impossible to tell time in here, but it feels like an eternity since I last saw my captor, since I last saw anybody.
This isn’t like last time. But not because of the amount of time he’s been gone for.
No maid has come in to bring me food. No footsteps have passed by my door. No voices have been just barely heard through the walls.
It feels like I’ve been buried alive.
The place has become sterile. Insanity inducing.
How long has it been since I last saw anyone? Since I last ate? I’ve dozed off here and there; tried to busy myself in these books. But even before I became so hungry that it started to hurt, I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Leonid’s return.
It’s possible that I’ve only been stuck in here for a day. It’s possible that all of the reading I did, mixed with losing my virginity and the news of my men turning into terrorists has exhausted me enough that I’ve taken several naps over a short period of time.
But it feels longer.
And all of this, right after I was given my first taste of freedom. That kitchen was so beautiful. Leonid was going to take me outside to eat. Something seemed to be forming between us, a sense of trust… or at least a sense of responsibility.
But all of that has evaporated.
Now, it feels like I’m a forgotten prisoner.
I’m not even angry.
I’m desperate.
These books aren’t nearly as comforting as I thought they would be—not when they only remind me of the villain in my own story. The villain who looks like a prince. The villain who, for a split second there, almost seemed to become something else.
Where the hell is he?
The soreness he left me with is still there. As is the lingering scent on his t-shirt. I want to rip it off, but I know that the second I do, I’ll only feel colder and more alone.
It feels like I’m slowly losing my mind.
… And then I hear something.
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I hear something.
The door.
Someone is unlocking the door.
Unsure of what to do with myself, I fall into bed and grab another book.
There’s no way I’m letting Leonid see the mess he’s created inside of me. Whether this is on purpose or not, I still have to hold onto myself.
So, I stare at a random, blurring page as the door swings open and someone shuffles inside.
I’m trying so hard not to pay attention that I hardly realize how light the footsteps are, or how tiny the body is.
But when I catch sight of the little old maid shuffling towards me with a big tray of food in hand, my heart drops.
It’s not Leonid.
All of that effort to play it cool, and he couldn’t even grace me with his presence. Instead, he sent the maid.
Slowly, my desperation starts to fade and a simmering fury begins to build up inside of me.
“Are you alright, darling?” Maeve asks, shuffling over to my nightstand.
