Hot Summer Night

5 - Seraphine

Two weeks. That's how long Chadwick said he had me locked in the room. The one he locked me in during the night of his party. A cold, dark room with windows boarded and lights removed, blocking any sight of freedom, a bed that feels like you're sleeping on cement, and a bathroom with no lighting either. It's a room that makes you feel like you're inside a coffin, but above ground, where you can freely move around.

This latest time he locked me in the room, he gave me a dose of what Helen Keller went through by moving the bed, dressers, and nightstands to another location. There were also other things he added to the room that crashed to the ground whenever I roamed around trying to find my way in the darkness—which gave me more bruises, scrapes, and cuts on top of the other bruises he'd given me during my two-week stay in hell.

Chadwick didn't even allow me to call my father while he held me captive, as I suspected would happen. So, I have no idea if my father made it or succumbed to his heart attack. And it hurts me to think I missed seeing him and telling him how much I loved him before he took his last breath.

I've been going crazy since I was let out of hell, since I still can't call any of my family. I can't find my phone, probably because Chadwick got rid of or hid it.

Three days ago, Chadwick let me out of the room he uses to punish me, and I've been in my room, lying on my bed, feeling sorry for myself, and denying all the food he's brought to my room ever since—fearing he had his hired help poison my food. I also refused all drinks they tried serving me, opting to drink out of the bathroom faucet instead.

Gross, I know. But do you blame me?

A knock at my door had me freezing still, afraid it was Chadwick warning me he was on his way in to beat me for refusing to eat and drink everything he'd ordered for me. Instead of responding, I rolled to my side, my back facing the door, not wanting to see the hate in his eyes when he entered the room.

"Sara, it's me. Can I come in?"

It's Marla.

It hurt to move and speak, but I got off the bed and dealt with the pain as I sauntered to the door to let her in. Marla's eyes looked pained when I opened the door.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered since it hurt to use my voice. My eyes peered around her, wondering if Chadwick was outside the door. I didn't want to see him; I was only curious to know if he sent her to my room since I'd avoided everyone else since he let me out of his hellhole prison.

"He's not here," she whispered, knowing who I was looking for. "And yes. He asked that I check on you since he had to go away on a business trip." She looked around her, then leaned closer to me, whispering, "But I'm not checking on you for him. I'm only here for you—to make sure you're okay. He said you haven't eaten or drunk anything he's sent to your room."

"Do you blame me?" I whispered in response. "I don't trust anything he's having them bring me," I told her, slowly waving my arm for her to come in, flinching from the pain when I swayed my arm around.

Marla was here when Chadwick finally let me out of the room. And I should thank her for talking him into letting me out of the dungeon. But when I opened my mouth to tell her how appreciative I was of her for getting him to do the right thing, my mouth snapped shut after realizing she said he'd left on a business trip.

"You said he's out of town?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, and she nodded. "I did." She reached into her purse, removed something, and then extended her hand to me, flipping her palm side up—my phone. "He gave this to me for me to give to you. He said he'd call you randomly every day to check on you. And he expects you to answer every time," she warned, rolling her eyes, and my guard on Marla eased a little because of her reaction.