Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I’ve always welcomed silence, but tonight, as much as I have always chosen to be alone over company, this particular quiet is unwelcome.
As I near my room, I have a moment of panic.
What if the door is locked? What if Damian locked it, and I can’t get inside?
Would you rather I keep you in a cage?
A sense of urgency grips me as I pass into the narrower corridors leading to my room. I am walking toward it without being made to. And I’m not afraid of being locked in. In this house, it’s the unlocked doors you have to watch out for.
The clicking of my heels echoes off the walls as I hurry along. When I reach my room, I’m out of breath. I don’t hesitate to try the doorknob and only feel relief when it turns, and I am able to push the heavy door open.
Relief at stepping into my cage.
I close the door and lean against it. I don’t think about the house or how big it is. About what may be lurking in the empty rooms or the dark corners. I just exhale with relief.
Outside, a cloud clears the moon. It’s eerie how the shadows move over the tops of the trees.
I walk toward the window to look out, slipping out of my shoes as I go. I make no sound once I’m barefoot.
It’s black again when I reach the glass, which is cool to the touch. And outside is empty. Only darkness and my own pale face. I begin to pull the pins from my hair, dropping them on the floor around my bare feet. The hairdresser cut another inch off my hair to even it out. I asked for shorter, actually, not wanting to leave anything for Damian to grab hold of, but she refused. He probably instructed her on what he wanted.
I brush the bangs over, and they fall back into place. I haven’t had bangs since I was a little girl. I like them.
My gaze falls on the ring and anxiety fills my belly. I turn away from the window and go to the bed. Even though I slept for the whole ride, I’m exhausted.
Pulling the covers back, I slip beneath them, not bothering to take off my dress. I just want to sleep. I think it’s my body’s reaction to the shock of the day.
My belly tight with a feeling of dread, I draw the comforter up over my shoulder. I listen as rain begins to fall, soft drops tapping lightly against the window. It smears the glass as it falls.
It’s been raining a lot these weeks. In the city. Here.
It fits in this dreary place. This dreary time.
I close my eyes, grateful that sleep comes quickly, and pray for a dreamless night. And some part of me wonders if it would be better if I didn’t wake. Easier for all this to be over.
I’m not strong enough to fight Damian Di Santo. I don’t have the stamina to keep up with him. And I’m not nearly strong enough to beat him at his twisted game.
What would it even mean to beat him? To win? Walking away from here? From him? Back to my life in New York City. A student.
No.
That’s gone.
And I shudder with the realization of that finality.
My life before Damian Di Santo is gone.
There is no walking away. Or if there is, it’s not walking back into my old life. If I do walk away, if I manage to somehow survive him, I will be a different person from the girl I was when this began.
I don’t wipe away the tear that falls but hug the blankets closer. Rain falls more heavily, and I let sleep carry me to oblivion, but it’s not a restful one.
Music.
Piano.
I know the tune, but I haven’t heard it in a long time.
I’m a little girl again, walking down the hall of our house barefoot and wearing a simple, cotton nightgown. I’m holding Sofia in my arms.
The music grows louder.
He’s listening to it. He’s in the study listening to it. It’s so sad, the tune and I know something is wrong.
But when I get to the office door I stop to look around because I realize I’m not at home. This isn’t our house. This isn’t the door to my father’s study. And as I look down at myself, I realize I’m not a little girl.
And it’s not Sofia I’m holding. It’s Patty. Past and present are confused.
Something crashes and I jolt awake, gasping for breath as I bolt upright.
Lightning. The rain has turned to a lightning storm and water pounds against the glass.
I forgot to turn on any lights.
When I swing my legs off the bed, Patty falls to the floor. I must have been holding him. I bend to pick him up, jumping again at the next strike.