Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I look up at her, and without waiting for her to say more, I ask, “Where am I?”
Her lips part as though she’s about to say something, but then she changes her mind, and says, “House of Sin.”
House of Sin? What is that?
“He expects you to be dressed and ready for him.”
Before I can ask any more questions, she closes the door on me.
“No, wait!” I stagger to the door and bang on it hard, but there is no reply. The door is locked, and no matter how often I pull the handle, it won’t budge.
But I won’t give up. “Please! You’ve got to let me out! This is a mistake!”
I keep banging on the door until my hands hurt and my body feels heavy.
“Please, let me out!” I beg. “I don’t want to be here!”
But deep down, I already know it’s futile.
I sink to the floor, my hand still on the wood, as I disappear into my mind for a moment to try to cope with things and make sense of my new reality. The realization that I’m trapped in a room I don’t belong in hits me hard, and tears well up in my eyes. It’s as if I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from.
All because of that man … 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?