Choice And Consequence

CHAPTER 9

When she returned from the bathroom, she heard a gentle knocking on her door. Pierre briskly walked in, carrying a tray of food. He offered a comforting smile as he set the tray by her bedside table, informing that Vladimir would be returning tomorrow from another business meeting.

Madelaine breathed out a sigh of relief after Pierre left, feeling her shoulders somewhat relaxing. She sat in bed and ate as much as she could stomach. She made the bed, folding the sheets into the mattress like the convent taught her. She swept the curtains aside, allowing the sun to pour in through the windows.

Madelaine went to the door of the bedroom, and, after a moment's hesitation, she turned the handle and walked into the hallway.

Her heart immediately started pounding.

Madelaine struggled to configure why she was feeling so overwhelmed in this moment. Perhaps her emotions and her struggle to compress them finally caught up with her. Flashes of last night invaded her mind, stabbing her memory, rooting her to the floor.

His touch on her shivering skin.

His hands, exploring her curves.

His mouth lingering on her lips. His mouth, everywhere.

The sense of dread Madelaine experienced was staggering. As she pulled the door shut behind herself, she leaned against the frame and tried to inhale a slow breath.

Why now? Why was she feeling this way now? Surely she would've felt this way after the first night Vladimir spent with her.

Her fingers twitched around the door handle as she glanced around and tried to compose herself. Her chest stuttered in rapid inhalations.

Why now? Why now?

She swallowed nervously. She had assumed some effects of her long imprisonment would continue to haunt her. Actually experiencing it was more than unsettling. It was horrifying.

Madelaine tried to pull her quivering fingers free from the handle she was clutching desperately, as though she would drown if she let go of it. She tried to make herself take a step away from the door, but her legs refused to cooperate.

After standing there for several moments, trying and failing to force herself to move, Madelaine went back into her room, closed the door, sank onto the floor, and cried. It was the first time she allowed herself to cry since Vladimir told her of his vindictive plans.

The young girl couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was being forced to be complicit in her own rape. Not while knowing she'd be expected to do it the next night. And the next. And the night after that.

This was a betrayal to herself. She was stronger than this.

Madelaine was determined to overcome her panic. She would lose all hope of escape if she let her fear of Vladimir consume her.

Like she promised to herself previously, if she could not resist him physically, she must do so mentally. So that no matter how many times he tortured her with the vulnerability of her body, her mind would remain unresponsive.

These words of affirmation repeated through her mind, as Madelaine walked into the bathroom. Ignoring her reflection in the mirror handing above the sink, she vigorously washed her face with cold water. Squaring her shoulders and securing her hair neatly, she forced herself to step into the hallway.

Madelaine Thompson was stronger than this.

One step.

Two. Three. Four.

She counted her steps as she made her way outside to the courtyard. In the first few days of her arrival to the chateau, Madelaine admired the gardens, and the flowers that bloomed. Now, she studied all the grounds of the estate that she could see. Trying to take notes of anything that could be useful.