Lost in Salvation

18. Misery is Bliss

Lorelei

Slamming my door, I consider screaming, but think better of it. I couldn't handle it if they came rushing up here to investigate. What am I doing? I have to be going insane, gods, what do they call it? Stockholm Syndrome? That absolutely has to be it because that, downstairs, was not me. I do not fraternize with the enemy, especially not these four particular enemies. 

I would be a damned liar if I didn't admit they're definitely attractive, not to mention the fantasies I've had more than a few times about multiple men at once. And their request only stoked the flame, but I could never, I will never. I am here only because I have been forced to be, they're quite literally holding me captive, and there's also that thing about my mother's very recent and suspicious murder. That which I haven't even given a second thought since arriving here. I'm supposed to be looking for clues, solving this shit, avenging her, not ogling men who would surely throw me into a pit of hungry crocodiles if given the chance. 

Yep, I'm positive this is what insanity looks like.  

Leaning against the doorframe, I make an attempt at slowing my erratic heartbeat as it continues thumping out of my chest. But even as I close my eyes, taking in a searing deep breath, I see their faces. They appear out of the darkness, boxing me in as their sly grins turn my stomach in knots, creeping up on me like predators ready to pounce. 

Tearing my eyes open, I groan. I need to get this under control, now. My window of opportunity is starting to close because the longer you wait to investigate a crime, the more the evidence becomes contaminated, and the more the trail begins to blur. That should be my focus, nothing else. Mom should be my soul priority, so after a few more laboring breaths, I decide I need some fresh air. Moving towards my duffle, I rifle through the mess, realizing just how unprepared I am. Packing up so quickly left me just enough time to grab the essentials and it shows. My bag is littered with clothes that don't match and random toiletries, none of which are organized in any sort of way. 

After locating some black faux leather pants and a cream colored sweater, I swiftly change into the makeshift outfit, pulling on a pair of boots and snagging my brand new flip phone on my way back to the door. As angry as the no contact rule makes me, I'm not looking to get taken out by a bear (because I've at least deduced we're on some kind of mountain), if I need to call for help the phone will still be useful. I won't be going far, especially after the guys realize I've left the house without one of them as a bodyguard. But I can't try to figure out where exactly we're located or how I might find myself an escape with one of them hovering over me, nor do I want to be around them at the moment. 

Pulling my door back open, I do another sweep of the hall, checking to make sure that one of them hasn't come up to their respective rooms. It's quiet though, so after I've mostly confirmed they're all still downstairs in that mysterious office of their's, I click the door shut behind me and start down the hallway. 

I'm wondering how long it'll take them to notice. Do they have cameras and alarms set up around the house? I would be naive to think that they don't, but I've yet to spot anything. Are there cameras in my room? I don't think they would go that far, or would they? I'll need to check on that later too because it'll be a cold day in hell before they get to invade my privacy like that, and certainly before they get a private show of me changing, or using that vibrator they so graciously mentioned. Reaching the bottom step, I listen for voices, careful to make sure they aren't close enough to hear me open the front door. I'm sure there's a sneakier way out, but what better way to make a statement then to walk right out the front. I know I won't be out there for long anyways so, why not?