Cutie and the Crazed

~{-I 2 I-}~

Clement looked around the room.  There were the normal things: a bed, a dresser, a desk with a fine golden bell on top.  But there were also other things that puzzled him.  For example, the intricate detailing on the bed post.  Little trees covered the entire bed frame, complete with miniature squirrels and acorns.  Wood carving was a skill Clement had never found the patience to learn, especially not at such a high level of expertise, and Chrissy seemed to be the only person in the house—or castle, as she had called it.  Perhaps she had developed the skill in her spare time. 

                His eyes wandered to the cerulean door on the left side.  What could it lead to?  At first he thought it was a bathroom, but the open door on the other side of the room proved that theory wrong.  Clement was definitely curious, but the cautious side of him won out, convincing him to stay away from the mysterious door. 

                Simple clothing lay in the dresser drawers, and he chose from this assortment of breeches, stockings, and shirts.  They weren't the perfect size, being slightly on the looser side, but this was easily fixed through the use of a belt.  Why did Chrissy have such a large variety of men's clothing anyways?  Many answers came to Clement's mind; the simplest, and the most likely to be accurate, was that her father or brother had gone through several sizes.  Even after realizing this, Clement was still more inclined to believe that the plethora of clothes came from Chrissy's victims after she murdered them. 

                He quickly toweled off the remains of the rain on his skin and changed his clothes.  Clement was no longer dazed by his new surroundings and was regaining sense.  The sooner he got out, the better.  He was in unknown territory; he could never be too safe.  He yanked his fingers through his long tangled locks, tying them back with a cord he found. 

                The noise of the rain seemed to have died down considerably; the storm had stopped, or at least lessened.  It was a good time to leave.  Clement, now considerably better off than he would have been in the rain, was ready to go.

                He opened the door very slowly, checking both sides of the hallway for Chrissy or her kin.  The hallway was clear.  He took one step.  The heel of his boot clicked, echoing through the hallway.  That was something he'd have to fix for sure.  He quietly stepped back in the room and bundled some stockings around his boots.  The solution certainly wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.  The new sound was muffled and barely there, much better than the earlier clicking.

                Taking slow, careful steps, Clement made his way to the grand staircase.  So far, he hadn't seen anyone, which almost surprised him.  It was quite a large place to be alone in.  He went down the stairs to face the door, which was of intimidating size yet beautifully carved.  Clement almost considered it a work of art, but he had no time to admire it.  He had to get out.  Moving the latch, he gripped the door handle and pulled.

                     The door wouldn't budge.

                Clement yanked harder and harder.  No matter how hard he pulled, the door just wouldn't move.  What was he missing?  A hidden latch?  A giggle came from behind him, echoing through the large room.  Clement jerked around, almost whipping his dark hair into his face.  Chrissy stood at the top of the stairs, watching him.

                "You can't leave," she said, a hint of amusement in her tone.

                His brows furrowed. 

             "It's not that I won't let you out; I would be perfectly glad to get rid of you.  Your staying doesn't help me in any way.   The door won't open.  It can only be opened from the outside," Chrissy continued. 

Was it true?  Who would design such a door?  But more importantly, had Chrissy really let him in knowing that he wouldn't be able to leave?  Rage began to simmer in him, but it was quickly cooled by the chilling thoughts Chrissy's words brought to him.  He faced her now without fear, but with the cold realization that he was stuck – maybe even for good.

"Just to get this clear – the door is closed and it will stay closed, unless someone comes from the outside.  So I'm stuck," he said, his voice flat.

"Yup.  Though, Marie comes with the supplies every week.  She'll be here in a couple days, maybe.  Sometimes she gets delayed."

"So I'm stuck."

"Yes."   She shook her head.   "It'll be fine.  You'll get over it.  I did."

"So I'm stuck."

She answered this simply with another haunting giggle.  Chrissy then turned and left, but her condemning peals of laughter still hung in the room.  Clement suddenly found a reason for the door to be special.  If it could be opened from the outside but not the inside, then it certainly wasn't to keep the beasts out, as most doors were. 

 It was to keep something – or someone – in.