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My body aches,my mind is fuzzy as I try to blink my crusted eyes open. I try to stretch my arms, to relieve the tension but my hands hit against something metal.
Gambling.
The bet.
Fucking Joseph.
My eyes peel open, and I flinch as they burn. My view is obstructed by metal bars, but I can make out a figure sitting next to a fireplace in a vintage chair. The embers of the fire are the only light in the room. A trail of smoke wafts from the chair and then I see the outline of a cigar in the silhouette’s hand.
I try to swallow, try to scream, but my throat is so dry, I can’t. All I can do is watch him as he watches me.
Something about the action causes goosebumps to prick my skin, my heartbeat to accelerate and something a little dark to trickle into my system.
“Why?” I whisper, or I think I do, my throat is so raw I can’t be sure if any noise was released.
The silhouette rises, his steps soft on the black and white rug that’s oddly not of this time but not the colors of another time. His hand slips into his pocket, pulling out something like a pen, maybe? I can’t be sure. He bends, dark eyes looking at mine. They’re so dead and cold, not a sparkle or hint of life. His hand reaches into the cage, causing me to flinch away.
When the pinch comes to my neck, my mouth parts on a gasp, a single tear leaking out of my eye.
“Why, is the least of your worries,” I think I heard him say. Right before I black out once again.
Chapter 2
“New beginnings are often disguisedas painful endings” - Lao Tzu.
When I awoke this time,it was in an all-white room. Bedding, carpet, curtains. The only thing with any color were the black walls and my purse laying on the desk, and I hope my little diary of inspirational quotes made it through. There is something soold about the place I’ve been held captive in. As if time stood still in a simpler, more… royal time. Like a hidden gem in the modern world of technology. When I ventured out of bed, the door was unlocked but I wasn't brave enough to go out, so I walked around the room. My eyes land on the vintage white side table. On top rests my journal and I breathe out a heavy sigh of relief to see it. I've had it with me for years, always writing down quotes that stand out to me. I lightly trail my fingers over the worn journal before finding the bathroom. It’s filled with personal care items, like a tooth brush and hair combs. Fancy Shampoos and conditioners that smell like roses and white tea, as well as bath oils. The closet is filled with gowns of white and zero shoes besides a pair of fluffy slippers. But there are silk nightgowns, and you guessed it, they're also white.
And I think about all those white garments as the lady stands behind me, pulling tight on the strings of a corset. As if playing dress up with a doll. She has said nothing so far, just came in a little after I woke up.
I have a million and three questions but have yet voiced them. I found no phone in my purse, just the hard candy, my diary and license, but nothing to send out a cry for help.
The key to survival is to watch, keep your head low, be invisible and then escape.
Because the first chance I get, I’m escaping… wherever this is. When I took a peek out the window all I saw was a vast coverage of trees that kissed a huge span of water. I’m not sure if I’m on an island, or this is just one view. A nice one, sure, but no number of views can keep me here. Not with a mad man who wants me drugged and dressed up like a Disney princess.
Joseph isn’t a better option at this point, either He literally gambled me away like an object instead of a person. His fiancée to be exact. He probably has lost zero sleep over the whole ordeal.
Not that I have lost sleep over it. I haven’t been given a choice but to sleep so far.
“Follow.” The one-word command by the lady gives me pause, but as much as I’m completely terrified, I’m also a little curious.
I follow the gray-haired woman. She’s older, with a stern beady face, and narrowing eyes. I don’t particularly like the way she looks at me. I follow her down the winding staircase. Black iron, and intricate molding surround the area, a deep shade of gray, almost black paint lay on the walls. Like a castle that was casted in a curse to forever be doomed to gloom. Iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting low lights. The windows are framed and filled with swirling iron, only allowing hints of views in distorted images.
We step down onto a black and white checkered floor that stretches as far as I can see. Stepping into a room to the left, a dining room? The chairs are black velvet and winged backed. And on the strong black oak table lies an assortment of food. My stomach growls in approval. Unfortunately, we won’t be eating or drinking anything provided. It’s not safe. I may have no clue what the hell is going on here, but I know I’m not safe. Fancy castle be damned.
An older gentleman in a suit pulls a chair out for me, his head tilted down slightly.
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, my eyes looking longingly at the food.
“Miss?” The gentleman waves his hand out to the table of food. “You must be starved. Please, eat.”
I shake my head, my hands gripping my white skirts. “I’m good.” I swallow.
His gray eyebrows furrow, mouth tilting down in a line. “Miss, you’ll want to eat. Need to, really.”
I take a step towards him. “Why?”
He opens his mouth, eyes pleading before he looks over my shoulder, snapping to attention.
