Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I pressed the door shut and eyed the bed. It was a four poster affair with a fluffy white comforter and welcoming pillows. I went to the closet and found it mostly empty. Farns had deposited my bag inside. Quilting fabric and thread were perched on the upper shelves, far from my reach.
I pulled out some toiletries from my bag and took them to the en suite bathroom. It was large for such an old house. Soaking tub, small walk-in shower, vanity, and toilet. I arranged my items in the cabinet and along the sink before getting ready for bed. It was odd, doing these things in a strange house, but I did them anyway. Brushing my teeth and changing into a t-shirt somehow put a veil of normalcy on the whole sinister affair.
I returned to my bag and dug out the knife. Tape still lingered on the blade. I pulled out the third drawer of the bedside table and affixed the knife to the bottom of the second drawer, just like at home. No one would find it there. It was like an insurance policy of sorts. I didn’t intend for it to ever spill my blood again. But Vinemont’s? That was a definite possibility.
Once satisfied it was hidden, I sat down on the bed. It was plush, luxurious. I was through the looking glass—nothing made sense and everything seemed somehow backwards. Was it a trick? Would Vinemont drag me from my bed after I’d fallen asleep and throw me into a musty dungeon?
I rubbed my eyes, too confused and exhausted to ponder what would happen in the next few minutes, much less in the hours to follow.
I got up and hit the lights. The darkness was almost a comfort to me, like it was cloaking me from prying eyes. I crawled into the unfamiliar bed, sliding between the smooth sheets. They smelled like linen and faintly of detergent. Clean and cool against my skin. These things, this room, they were all meant to seduce me, just like Vinemont’s voice in my ear. I wasn’t in a fairy tale. Vinemont wasn’t my prince.
I snuggled in deeper, hugging an extra pillow against me. It was down-filled, soft and fluffy. I breathed in deeply and let it out. I would enjoy what I could while I could, because I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Sleep fell like a curtain in front of the stage, slowly obscuring me from view.
***
A knock at the door jarred me awake. Light streamed in through the windows, giving my cell the appearance of a traditional Southern room.
“Who-who is it?”
“Farns, miss.”
“Oh, come in.” I sat up and pulled my blanket to my neck.
He opened the door and took only a single step inside. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. I wanted to let you sleep for a while longer, but Mr. Sinclair has requested your presence.”
“I haven’t even showered.” I pushed my hair back from my eyes, knowing it was a tangled mess.
“Even so.” He didn’t look at me. In fact, he looked everywhere but in my direction. Modest much?
“Fine. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” I paused, realizing I had no idea which way to go to get down to breakfast.
“I’ll wait while you ready yourself and then I’ll escort you, if you’d like,” Farns said.
“Yes, please.” I dropped the blanket and swung my legs over the side of the bed.
Farns backed out of the room and eased the door shut with a soft click.
I rose and stretched before going to the bathroom, washing my face, and running a brush through my hair. Presentable. But why should I be? Maybe when Farns said “breakfast” he really meant “guillotine” or “the rack.” I had no way of knowing at this point. Were his kindly words and face just another put-on like Vinemont’s?
I donned another pair of jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan. I wasn’t sure about shoes, so I put on some sneakers. I sat for a moment to collect myself, to try and sort through what was true and what was the lie. It was impossible. I only knew one thing for certain—Vinemont was my enemy. Anyone connected with him was suspect, if not an outright danger to me. With that cold thought, I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and went to the door.
Farns was, as he promised, waiting outside. “Right this way, miss.”
I followed him down the long hallway. I peered into rooms as I passed. They were all bedrooms in this part of the house, each with a different theme. Some were flowery, others done in rich, dark fabrics.
“So, do you treat all your prisoners like this?” It came off even more snide that I’d meant it to. I was testy, angry, a seething bubble of emotions that seemed to have simmered overnight while I slept and only now erupted at my surface.