Page 43 of Locked in Wonderland

“How long did I sleep?” I asked halfway through my bowl.

“Eight hours.”

“Christ. I didn’t expect to sleep that long.”

“You were exhausted.”

“I was,” I admitted. “Yesterday was quite the day.”

“Today will be worse.”

It took a moment for the words to register. “What?”

Donovan nodded. “People go easy on newcomers.”

I blinked. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.”

It didn’t matter how softly he’d said it. It still sounded like a threat.

Donovan smiled. “Eat your porridge.”

I did, sneaking the occasional glance at him in the hope he’d elaborate. He didn’t. The crypticness of this place was going to be the death of me.

“How did you end up here?” I asked after pushing the empty bowl away.

Donovan’s gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the kitchen walls. “It’s where everyone ends up, eventually.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Why don’t you just leave?”

He stared at me as if he expected me to say more. When I didn’t, he laughed. “Do you think you can leave?”

“Yes.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. “The only reason I haven’t left is because I’m looking for someone. Once I find him, we’re both getting the hell out of here.”

“Who?”

The next few minutes followed the usual pattern. I described Warren. Donovan listened. Then he either genuinely knew nothing or pretended he knew nothing. I couldn’t tell which one . The man was almost impossible to read.

“What?” I finally asked. “No advice? No warnings?”

He shrugged. “Things will work out the way they’re supposed to. They always do. There’s no point fighting it.”

Frustration bubbled up inside me. “Why can’t anyone in this fucking place ever say what they mean?” I rose from the table. It didn’t stop Donovan from towering over me, but it made me feel marginally more in control. “You all make it sound like I’m some kind of puppet. I’m not. I chose to come here. Sure, a few unfortunate things have happened since my arrival, but I’ve wised up now. I’m not letting anyone else trick me into anything.” I waved an arm at the table. “Like… last night I asked you what payment you wanted for letting me stay here. I didn’t touch the food until you agreed it was free. Right?”

You didn’t ask about breakfast. Or the clothes. I quickly shoved the thought aside.

Donovan nodded. “Right.” He wasn’t really paying attention to my speech. His gaze remained on my chest.

I looked down.

My gesturing had tugged the neckline of the tank top low enough to expose the top of the crow tattoo. “What is it about this tattoo that everyone finds so interesting?”

Donovan lifted his gaze to my face. “It should be a flamingo.”