His Darling

His Darling | 3

CHAPTER THREE.

I peeled my eyes open after I felt like I had slept a lifetime--with my lips dry and my throat aching for water.

My eyes met the dreadfully unfamiliar ceiling and it's dark mahogany color, slowly averting to the right, where the curtains were drawn at the window. I caught sight of a glass full of water by the nightstand and wasted no time in placing myself in a sitting position and grabbing it, not before looking around the room tentatively.

It was empty. Silent.

I looked at the water for a second with a strange and fearful suspicion within me. But it looked as clean as water can be.

So, carefully, I took a sip. But I couldn't stop--my parched throat needed all the water possible to cease its burning sensation. In the end, the glass was left empty. I figured that if whoever wanted to kill me would've had already.

That realization, though, didn't ease the horrible feeling crawling up my skin and going deep into my bones, making me shiver dreadfully. My eyes shifted about the room again with a shudder despite how peaceful the room was.

What am I doing here?

I remembered waking up to the memory of an awful drunken night replaying in my head. I had run down the stairs. Only to be caught and thrown back into this room by a man I didn't know and plummeted into a pitch black darkness.

As my friends' faces flashed across my eyes, I could only remember a blur of what had happened before I came here.

My parents. They must have been worried out of their minds. If they didn't think I was just going through one of those "phases", as they liked to call it, and staying somewhere.

Tears burned my eyes.

I moved the covers off of me in pure rage and hopped off the bed, only for a sharp, crude pain to shoot up my ankle. I quickly grabbed the bed's post and dug my nails into the wood to refrain myself from falling. My eyes welled up with tears and I bit my lip to fight the scream that wanted so desperately to leave my lips. I looked down and saw a bandage firmly wrapped around my swollen ankle.

Irritation boiled in my blood.

I limped my way across the room silently, looking for any signs of my flip flops or my clothes other than this irritating, oversize sweater. The only thing I noticed were how pink my toenails looked against the dark floor.

Frustrated and ultimately scared, I drew the curtains open only to be met by ominous dark clouds and a field that stretched until it reached what looked like a forest. With quick, shaky fingers, I tried to open the window.

But of course, it didn't open.

It was sealed shut.

Swallowing to cease my increasing panic, I moved to the door instead, my hand slowly grabbing the knob. It was cold. Very carefully, I slowly turned it around and the door opened soundlessly.