Sitting up, not sure what to do next, I’m surprised and happy when I see a pair of my jeans, a white shirt, and flats waiting for me at the foot of the bed. Not only is the cage gone, but Apollo is not going to make me remain naked any longer.
After getting showered and ready, I decide to go find Apollo. I’m assuming he’s still inside the manor, but I can’t be sure of that. I’d find it shocking that he’d leave me alone without a note or waking me to tell me he had a meeting or something. Although I’ve been to Olympus several times for events, I’ve never really walked the halls or had free rein before. The place has always given me the creeps, and this time is no different. Portraits of dead ancestors line the hallways, the furniture all appears to be antiques, and there is a smell of…ghost in every nook and cranny. Most certainly this house is haunted. There is a ghost in the attic. I know it. I swear that every single family event outside on the expansive yard, I’ve seen the curtain in the attic window move. Every single time. None of the Godwins seem to mind the ghosts, however. I guess they have no reason to. They are all related.
As I approach the study, I hear Apollo speaking and can tell he’s on the phone with work. He’s talking numbers and budget projections, and I decide to not interrupt him. My stomach is growling in hunger, and I can guess that Apollo’s may be as well. He’s always been a man who can get lost in his work and forget to eat. Knowing there isn’t any staff to assist us, I know I need to fend for ourselves. I’m not a good cook. I’ve never been taught, and once I married Apollo, there was never a need for my culinary skills. We had staff or we dined out. I also don’t have any idea if there is any food in the kitchen since the manor has been empty.
As I make my way to the kitchen, there is a deafening silence to the house. It’s polar opposite of what I’m used to when visiting Olympus. The Godwins are loud, and their friends even louder. This large place does not feel like home. But then again I don’t really know what a home feels like. I’ve yet to experience that comfort. Yes, I have a house. But it’s just that. A cold and sterile house. No love. No family. Just me and Apollo who…hated each other.
In a near daze, I rummage the kitchen and shockingly find food and enough supplies to cook a basic meal. Standing in this unfamiliar kitchen staring out the window, I can barely see a large tree on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea due to the thick fog that’s set in. My mind sifts through my own thick fog of confusion and lust. I can’t even put what has occurred in words if I had to.
Apollo kidnapped me.
He had locked me in a cage.
Apollo punished me. Repeatedly.
He had me question if I’d live or die, and if my sister would be pulled into it.
Apollo fucked me, and not like a husband would fuck a wife.
He had humiliated me, humbled me, and forced me to face animalistic…desires.
And I had loved every single minute of it.
Everything about what happened since arriving on Heathens Hollow is wrong. Inappropriate for a Godwin. Apollo could go to jail for years for what he’s done to me. But all of Apollo’s discipline has accomplished one thing. I won’t ever try to go to the authorities again. I won’t make that mistake twice.
Hearing the water boiling over, I rush over to the pasta I’m cooking us for breakfast. There aren’t any eggs or breakfast foods, and I only really know how to make pasta, so it will have to do. I can’t remember the last time I actually prepared anything that required me turning on a stove.
I chuckle to myself at the fact that I’m clearly a fish out of water in the kitchen. But I’m having to adapt, and I should be grateful that I’m at least out of that damn cage so I can. So much has happened in a short time that it feels like my time in Seattle was a lifetime ago. So much has changed. He’s changed.
Finishing up dishing up our breakfast which I suppose is more of a lunch, I’m not sure if Apollo wants me to bring him his plate or not. No doubt he’s already been in the study for hours catching up with work and has been on phone calls that appear to be heated. But he needs to eat—
As if reading my mind, Apollo enters the kitchen and walks toward the small table by the window. “It smells good,” he says as he takes a seat at the table as if this is our normal.
Nothing about cooking and having a meal across from each other at a kitchen table is normal.
Taking his lead, I bring our plates to the table. “I made pasta with red sauce,” I say, trying not to remember The Vault and how we ate a similar meal there. “I hope it’s okay.” After the years of marriage, I still don’t know what this man likes to eat. Not really. I haven’t really tried to know, and I take that accountability now. I should have. Our marriage wasn’t bad just because of him. I played a part. I know this.
“I really like your cooking,” he praises. He looks up at me, studies my face, which must reflect my shock in his statement, and adds, “I mean, I know we’ve always eaten out and all the parties…but I likethis.”
“There wasn’t much to choose from in the pantry,” I say as I sit down to join him. “But it surprised me to see it stocked with anything at all. When was the last time anyone stayed here? I thought the Godwins only came here for big parties or family holidays.”
“We like it to be ready for spontaneous trips.” He takes a large bite of his pasta and chews as he stares directly into my eyes. Swallowing, he continues, “If there is something you need, let me know. I’ll have it delivered to us.”
“How long are we staying here?” I ask. “Now that the punishment is over, as you said, I assumed we’d be going home soon.”
He shakes his head as he takes another mouthful. When he’s finished chewing, he says, “I sold the house.”
I freeze mid-chew, not sure if I had heard him correctly. “What? You sold our house? Why?”
“It didn’t feel like a home. It held…memories. Memories that I figured you and I both wanted to forget. And I—”
“You just sold our house without even mentioning it to me?” I interrupt. “What about all our belongings?”
“It’s all been placed in storage.” He looks up at me and smiles. “Don’t worry. We’ll get a new house. One that feels like a home to you, and to me. We need a fresh start.”
“You loved that house,” I point out, shocked by his impulsive act. He’s never been one to just make such a huge decision without months of research and planning.
He shrugs. “I think a new house will be good. As for the belongings… It’s all materialistic stuff, right? We can just buy new.” He looks at me. “You like shopping, right?”