… that man who stalked me to my work and took me against my will. And I don’t even know his name.
I stare at the room around me, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do other than dress myself. I’m not even sure I really want to, but do I really have a choice? If I don’t, would they let me out of this room?
Just thinking about being stuck here forever gives me the creeps. I mean, it’s not an ugly room. The décor is actually luxurious, with a soft velvety couch on the side, a big bookcase filled with books, and a giant wardrobe. But the windows are barred. This place is nothing but a glorified prison, and I’m being kept here like some sort of criminal.
What did I do to deserve this?
Nothing … nothing I can remember, that is.
All I know is that when he asked me what my darkest wish was, I told him I wanted to be punished. It just slipped out. I didn’t know it would lead to me being taken and put into an expensive cage.
I sigh to myself and get up from the floor. No point in hanging around and doing nothing. So I gather my courage and inspect every nook and cranny of my room, trying to find an exit, a hidden compartment, or anything that could lead me to either a key or a way out.
But the longer I search, the more despair takes over. I find nothing, absolutely nothing.
“Fuck!” I growl out loud, slamming my fists onto the barred windows.
Nothing’s left unscathed. I even searched under the bedding and peeled away some of the wallpaper. There’s nothing I can use to force my way out. My hand rests against the window, but my view is blocked by the rain splashing down from above.
Guess there’s no other choice.
I turn my gaze toward the big wardrobe in the corner next to me. I open it up, expecting rage to further fuel my need to rip it all apart. Instead, my jaw drops at the beauty in front of me. Several glittery gowns with amazing colors, laced in diamonds and chiffon, are hanging in the wardrobe. Gowns from several high-end brands that only a princess would wear. But I am no princess, and I refuse to play this game.
So I grasp the smallest, most mediocre and modest dress I can find; a short nude dress with no embellishments and a tight fit around the legs and neck. He will expect me to get dressed. Well, that girl never said he’d expect me to dress fancy.
With a smug grin on my face, I take off my clothes and glare at them for a second. These were the jeans and crop top I was wearing when I was working at the library when he came for me, and when I look at them, all I see is his daunting face and those green eyes gazing right back at me as though they could peer into my soul.
Shivering in place, I throw the clothes in the corner. I grab the only pair of panties from the drawer and put them on, then the dress. It fits me snugly and feels like the perfect size … as though it was made just for me.
I inspect myself in the mirror and smile at the woman in front of me, but the smile is fake, empty, emotionless. A woman who’s going through the motions expected of her while screaming on the inside. But then why does it feel like I can’t let it all out?
Suddenly, there is a knock on the door, and I hold my breath.
The door opens. First, a foot is visible. Then the black suit. Another foot. The man with the square jaw steps inside my room again, his thin lips tugging at the corner into a rugged, crooked smile.
I freeze in place as he closes the door behind him. The click of the lock falling into place makes my heart jump. Every step he takes is another one that forces me to stay put, as though his very presence is enough to make my body falter. My muscles fail to listen to me when I tell them to move. When I want to raise a fist and punch him for daring to get close.
Instead, I just stand there, gazing at both of us in the mirror, wondering why he did all of this to me … and what he’s planning to do.
As he walks