I shake my head to dislodge the thought and my body’s reaction to it.
He could have done more, taken what he wanted to take and gotten it over with, but he didn’t. So, what does he want? I mean, he never answered when I asked him why he wanted me. Revenge? Against who? My father is dead. My whole family is dead apart from my uncle and cousins.
Picking up the blanket from the floor, I wrap it around my shoulders and look around the room, then walk to where he’d left Patty and the books I had packed along with the toiletries. At least he left those, but everything else is gone. I’m alone. I have no way to contact anyone, no money, no nothing.
“Shit.”
I take in the room. The stone walls are ancient, and I wonder where we are. The bed I was sitting on looks to be an antique although the mattress was comfortable, and the thick, plush duvet smelled freshly washed.
The canopy is a deep, beautiful violet, and everything in the room seems to have been chosen to accentuate the bed. It’s pretty, the wooden posts and headboard heavily carved, the canopy intricate.
Is this to be my prison? He admitted I’d be locked in here for a while at least.
There’s a small vanity with a mirror set upon it. On its surface are several bottles of perfume, and a chair is situated before it. I go to it and pull open one of the drawers, finding it full of high-end cosmetics.
I snort.
If he expects me to look pretty for him, he’s got another thing coming.
Closing the drawer, I turn my attention to the dresser that matches the frame of the bed. It stands against one wall, and various tables are scattered against the others, holding lamps that are lit even though it’s daytime.
There’s only one window, but it’s huge. I wonder if it was more than one before, and they had it redone this way as I make my way toward it. It almost reaches the floor and does touch the high ceiling. If I stretch my arms out, I still don’t reach either end. The glass is cold to the touch.
Looking out the window, I realize how big the house is, how vast. It’s a mansion, not a house at all—with large stone walls and shaped like a U. Although I try, I can’t count all the windows. To my right, I see light through some of them. Other occupants. How many and who?
My mind wanders to what he said—about the other I have to look out for—but I force that thought away and turn to my left where most of the windows on the upper floors are shuttered.
All the rooms on this side overlook a perfectly green view of forest that only stops at the rock of the mountain in the distance. It looms over the trees, casting what I think may be a permanent shadow. It’s breathtaking and scary as hell all at once. I don’t think there’s another soul out there for miles.
When I look down, I have a moment of vertigo.
Closing my eyes, I step backward.
It’s got to be a hundred-foot drop to the neglected gardens below that are so overgrown I wonder if the forest isn’t creeping in to reclaim the house.
Taking a deep breath in, I try to see the exterior around my room. From the bits of paint on the walls, I think it used to be yellow at one time.
I turn away from the window. I need to find a bathroom.
There are three doors in addition to the one Damian exited from, and they all look similar. Old wood, new hardware. One is locked, so I leave that for later. I need to pee first.
The second door leads to a deep alcove. It’s dark, and I feel along the wall for a light switch, grateful when I find one.
It’s like a cave in here and even smells a little dank. A bench built into the wall has a thick, deep purple velvet cushion that looks brand new, and beside it is a bookshelf loaded with books. I go to it, read some of the titles. Leather-bound and old.
I pull one out and open it. I’m in my first year studying religion and history at school, and these books are what I’d use in the coming years. Is he so prepared for my arrival? He did say he knew everything there is to know about me.
Putting it back, I walk toward the desk that faces the wall. It has a leather top and a comfortable chair along with a modern study lamp on top. I switch it on. It’s bright.
Inside one of the drawers, I find a stack of notebooks, pens, pencils, all sort of school supplies. I close it. I don’t want to think about all the preparation that went into this, into him taking me. I don’t want to think about what that means for me.