Hunger

Chapter 12

I was alone that night, Marco never came back. Half of me wondered where he was, if he was hurt or in trouble. That half was getting beat up by the other half who loathed him, the half that couldn't care less what happened to him. I was still conflicted when I woke in the morning. As I lay in bed, pondering, there was a knock at the door. I sat up sorely, still wearing Marcos shirt. It was like a dress so I didn't feel too exposed as the door opened. It was an older Italian woman, she bustled in with a tray that consisted of a glass of milk, two tablets, an apple and two slices of rather burnt toast. I guessed she was the maid that came in when Marco and I were in the bathroom. My face burned and I pushed the thought of that contact away as she walked towards the bed.

"Good morning," I croaked in a morning voice. She flashed a forced smile before it disappeared as she put the tray on the  bed and moved back towards the door. She unlocked it, glancing around the room once more. Catching a sight of the bathroom she cursed in Italian and strode over, smoothing down her black dress. After a couple of minutes of clattering in there she came out with arms full of towels. Kicking the door open with her foot she finally exited and ran off down the corridor. Sighing, I watched the door close, too far for me to get there in time. It shut, but not with the locking sound that I had learned to expect. It wasn't locked.

I chugged down the painkillers using the milk she had provided me before rising to my feet, ignoring the dull throbbing radiating from my wound. I walked as fast as possible without making a sound. Stopping before the door, I pushed on the cold handle wearily. Was it a trap? The door clicked and opened. I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from shouting with glee as I stuck my head out of the door and examined my surroundings. The nurse or even worse, Marco, could come back at any moment. With a bare foot, I stepped into the old fashioned looking corridor. It was dead silent. Closing the door behind me, I tried various rooms that were situated either side of the corridor but, to my dismay, they all seemed to be locked. 

Suddenly, I heard the lift arrive at my level. Panicking, I shrunk behind a tall statue of an angel. I watched from the depths of the shadows as the lift doors opened. It was Marco. The angel was situated further up the corridor than the bedroom door and I watched as he made his way up the antique hall. He was in the same tuxedo, had he slept at all? He was fiddling at his cufflinks, deep in thought as his legs carried his massive form towards the bedroom. The bedroom that was now vacant. I stiffened, what was going to happen when he entered the room and I wasn't there?

He arrived at the door, placing his large, slender hand on the handle. My breath hitched as he pressed down on it. But he paused, he seemed unsure. He tilted his head back and closed his beautiful eyes. Releasing the handle, he took a step back still staring at the oak door. His lips pursed as he paced back and forth in front of the door. Whats wrong? I'd never seen him unsure like this, he was always so confident. Putting both hands on the back of his head, he stopped pacing and studied the brass handle. Muttering, he ran his hands through his hair, abruptly turning on his heel and walking up the corridor.

Towards the statue. Towards me. 

I stopped breathing altogether, trying to shrink into the shadows as much as possible. Covering my mouth with a trembling hand, I watched as he strode right past me. He was inches away, deep in thought as he walked. He walked to a room that I had found to be locked. Searching in his pockets, he produced a key. Fitting it in the lock, his fingers expertly unlocked it and he entered, the door closing behind him.

What if he had other girls here? Prisoners like me?

I pushed the thought away as I ran down the corridor, pressing the button to the elevator. Sweat ran down my neck as the lift rose to my floor. Abruptly, the doors opened. I sprinted inside, urgently stabbing at the button for ground level. The doors shut and I almost collapsed against the wall, my breathing out of control. I tried to think of a plan as the numbers changed on the screen above the doors. The number of floors counted down to the one I wanted.

 Countdown to my chance of escape.