Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,27
I will listen, and I will learn. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I will learn enough to get out of here.
11
Sapphire
When I wake my eyes are drawn to two containers resting on the pillow directly in front of my face.
Weird.
I sit up, propping my elbow on the pillow.
It is light now.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, dim sunlight casts shadows in the room instead of candles.
I stare down at the boxes. They’re oval shaped and identical, antique silver with an intricate floral design embossed over each visible surface.
Too curious not to look, I prize the first one open and find white paste. Toothpaste? When I open the second one, the meaning becomes clear. This one is filled with black.
Makeup.
It’s only when I sit up properly that I notice he’s been here the whole time. He’s still sitting on the chair in the far corner of the room, one ankle resting on his thigh. He’s dressed as he always is, black everything except for the dark metal mask on his face. He says nothing as he watches me, and I wonder if he has been here the whole night.
But there is something more pressing I want to ask, something which may shine a light on the things I decided I needed to know last night.
“You want me to perform here as I did at the carnival?” My voice comes out rough. I need a drink and wonder if they have tea here. We always had tea at the carnival. Coffee was a rare luxury, but I was never a huge fan of that anyway.
“No. Well, perhaps. But that was not the original intention behind my gift.”
Gift? I want to laugh, but I’m struggling to find much humor in the situation. “Then what is the point in it?”
“Another silly question,” he says, his tone amused.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Because you’ll be less than impressed with my answer.”
“And you care about impressing me?” I bite back.
Baron puts his hand on his chest and lets out an amused chuckle. “You are quite sharp for one so very young.” He gets up from the chair and walks toward the bed, pulling the drape back and holding out his hand.
I stare at it.
“It doesn’t bite.”
Slowly, as if testing steaming bathwater, I reach up and take it. He pulls me out of the bed and leads me across the room, positioning us in front of his chest to gaze into the full-length mirror.
I wrap the blanket I grabbed around me and tuck the end between my breasts, forming a makeshift dress. Happy not to be naked, I look up at him in the reflection.
He’s so tall his mask is fully visible above my head, as are his shoulders and arms at either side of my own. If his intention was to remind me just how small and weak I am, it’s working.
His hand comes around to my neck, forcing me to stare at myself in the mirror. “I would have you wear it so no one else can look upon your face.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat, feeling his hand move as my neck contracts. “A mask or a scarf would take considerably less effort, no?”
He shrugs. “Indeed. But then how would I see all those expressions play across your pretty face? I like you this way. You’re like a living nightmare. My very own little monster.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’d painted it last night, but that was before the water tank. Now the black has smudged in with the white, a mix of water and tears and rubbing at it in my sleep. And I think I probably sleep with my mouth open, judging by the flesh-colored patch around my mouth. I cringe at the thought. The whole look is freakish, and it’s not me.
I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me.
“And if I refuse?”
He laughs again, this one full of humor. “Yet another silly question. We really should start keeping a tally. This one, however, I’ll refrain from answering.”
With that, he removes his hand from my neck and takes a few steps away from me. “You’ll find a set of clothes in the dresser over there. Ready yourself and meet me in the sitting room directly across the hall. Need I remind you I am not the most patient of men?”
I choose not to answer his question, but since he doesn’t wait before heading toward the door I don’t think he was expecting one anyway.
Then