I was ready to trace the steps, the surroundings and pace numbers later, so I could make my escape. I wanted them to take me deeper into the building, passed windows and exit signs. Someone must have been replaced on my protection details since the last time I escaped the boarding school in Alabama, because these guys weren't taking second chances. The drugs, padded rooms, and straight-shot hallways all lacked a sense of humanity that had been present before.
The exit to the mental room put us in a narrow hallway that went on forever. The woman walked in front of me, and the man behind me, as we walked briskly down it. Their eyes never adverted away or gazed at the fifteen wooden panel doors we walked passed. I kept twisting around, taking in everything with my photographic memory, but there was almost nothing to look at. The doors had four-digit numbers, and the walls and ceiling were pristinely white. That was it.
The hall made an 'L' shape, and it was at that turn that my details stopped and gestured to the door right in front of us. The little gold-finished plaque was inscribed with '7315', and it matched the door handle. I exhaled in frustration. It had a lock on it. The women plucked a small golden key from her black trench coat and unlocked the door. She swung it open and let me step in.
The carpet underneath my thin, black ballet flats didn't give in for much cushion. The air was stale and held a slight chill. The walls were a light shade of cream, and a twin bed was pushed on the opposite wall of a small wooden desk. A lazy pile of books lay by the lamp on the desktop, close to seventy other books were stacked on a bookshelf on the third wall adjacent of the bed. A closet with accordion doors made up the wall where the door was. Another door was by the bed that I assumed led to my private bathroom. Everything was plain; from the brown bedspread, to the solid carpet.
The man spoke for the first time, voice deep and interlaced with conceit. "This is where you will be staying. All of your possessions have been transported from your dorm room to the closet."
He paused to allow me to take it all in. I took cautious steps inside. It sounded too simple; too perfect. Like any infomercial, I knew things weren't as they seemed at first glance.
"What haven't you told me?"
I felt him smirk a little to himself. Definitely conceited.
"There are rules for your stay here, Miss McMullen. You are to stay in your living quarters during the duration of the day and of the night. Meals will be brought to you. Any visits outside of this room must be made accompanied by a member of your detail. If you are caught out of your room alone, there will be severe consequences," he told me, voice morphing into a threat as his speech came to an end.
Then his eyes rolled, and I knew by the look on his face I was about to get the teenage-girl speech, and the dangerous-threat speech was over.
"And whatever you do, stay away from the first family. Especially Warren Edley."
I was really starting to hate this guy. Him and his demeaning attitude was getting on my nerves.
Shouldn't he know I'm going to break his silly little rules? I break everyone else's.
Why waste his breath warning me to stay away from some cookie-cut-out politician, spoiled, little, pretty-boy, son of a senator? Like I'm a normal teenage girl?
I didn't give him the satisfaction in my devastation of his silly rules, and laughed right in his face.
"Please," I scoffed, crossing my arms.
The women, sensing my irritability, continued on and cut off the man before he could retort. "The books are for your personal study. You will have plenty of work to do in the next few months before your education is finished. Start wherever you want. When you're done with those books, they can be replaced."
I nodded and understood. It was going to be a long few months in this room.
"Any questions?" his condescending-sounding voice asked.
"What time is it?" There wasn't a clock, and my watch had disappeared from my wrist.
"Nearly six in the evening. Dinner should be on its way. Until then." They stepped out and nodded, giving me the most professional goodbye they could. The small click meant that my door was locked. It's lucky that I'm not the least bit claustrophobic.
My shoulders slumped when they left, and I finally felt relaxed. I flicked my shoes off by the door and stripped my knee-highs off. My feet were cold from running through the snow, and my socks were still cold. The bed springs creaked rather loudly with my weight. I longed to let my body fall back and rest.
I moved to the closet and pulled open the accordion doors. They also creaked.
My clothes were supported by hangers on one side, the middle was a small column of stacked pants, the other side was shelves of everything else. In front of the middle column was a hinged door with a mirror on the front. My mouth dropped open at my reflection. My black hair was pulled at the ends and hardly tied back at all. My uniform was torn, and with added questionable stains. The skirt was ripped at the sewing. My cuffs had tears on the sleeves and were rolled up to my forearms. I looked like I had been in a fist-fight. My body begged for a steaming hot shower and rest.
I changed out of my uniform and into my only pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt that boasted about the Red Sox. My dad had bought it in an undercover mission, and I had stolen it from him last summer. It hung loosely around my body, and I had to roll it up so it wouldn't envelope my shoulders whole. But it was warm and soft against my body. The day left me anxious for any comfort. My dormitory was lonely and plain, but it seemed warmer than here.
A member of the staff knocked three times and then unlocked my door. A steaming tray of mashed potatoes, gravy, and pot roast was laid on my desk. I stared at it and didn't glance at whomever brought it to me. They tipped their head and without uttering a word, were out my room. The little click, that I had begun to accustom as a sign to resume activity, sounded, and I unfurled myself from on top of the bed and grabbed the tray.
I picked at the pot roast and forced some of the potatoes into my mouth. The food was delicious, but my stomach was unsettled. After nibbling at some of the green beans, I gave up the effort and left the tray by the door, figuring someone would be by to pick it up.
The bathroom was a white tile room with a shower. A bag of my toiletries sat on the counter, and so I preceded to finally let the water unthaw me and soothe whatever unsteadiness had consumed me in the last few hours.
After washing my tense body repeatedly, I came back into the room to see the tray was gone and a small alarm clock sat on the floor by the bed. A little note on the door stated that they would be bringing a bedside table in the next day and another lamp. The clock was set at quarter to eight. But my eyelids resisted it, weighing down on me like it was the middle of the night. Before I let myself fall asleep, I set the alarm clock to wake me up at one in the morning.
The point in making a hasty escape was that they would expect me to plan, test the waters and see how far I could push. Making a run for it right away was stupid and no trained agent would do it.
Which is exactly why I was going doing it.
Before the luminescent red lettering blared eight o'clock, I was deeply asleep.
After two rings of the alarm, I was awake and out of bed. I changed quietly into dark clothing: a navy blazer from school and dark denim jeans. I kept my lights off and worked off the light of my laptop screen. My hair was back on a loose ponytail, and I had my running shoes on instead of my school flats. Everything felt better about this escape. Like every other time I had crept out of boarding houses and mansions while everyone slept around me, I didn't really have a plan. But I knew the longer I waited, the more security would work to keep me locked up.
I just had to get out of there.
I carried few things with me. A passport, money, identification, and pocket knife.
The lock was the first barrier, which I did easily by unhinging the doorknob. It didn't want to come loose, and persisted, making a small noise. I kept working and waited for someone to rush over and stop me. No one did.
I wandered in the dark, taking an unknown route. In the dark, I had no idea where I was going. I could feel that it was somewhere worth traveling, so I kept on as minutes ticked by in my mind. I was synchronized again, noticing the number of doorways I passed and always keeping a mental clock. It was 1:33:54 when I found the kitchen. My footsteps felt louder, and I knew where I was, then. According to the maps, I was across the hall from where the president of the United States was sleeping in his bed. Just the thought of having the president find me sent a shiver down my spine. Even my harshest headmistress, Madame Pinsley, didn't compare to the head of the nation.
I gulped down some nerves and stepped lightly through the door, unsure how I got in or where the exit was. The last thing I wanted to do was find myself sprinting across the front lawn.
Then my blood froze as I heard the sound of padding footsteps across hardwood, coming dangerously close to me. Just as a dark figure hovered in the doorway, my body dropped and rolled silently under a table I had just stubbed my toe on. It was still uncomfortably throbbing, and a cage of chairs prevented much movement. It was like my worst fears were coming to life. Never had I been caught in an escape. Ever.
The cloth covering the table hovered two inches above the floor. As the light flickered on, I could see the bare feet of whomever had almost caught me. My nervousness and anxiety was peaking, but I forced my breath to stay steady and quiet. Every ounce of me wanted to shift and move so my wrists weren't bent and throbbing. But I didn't move a muscle. The distinct sounds of bare feet on floor sounded as he moved around, opening a cabinet and turning on the sink. I assumed it was a man because I sure hoped those feet didn't belong to the First Lady.
I listened intently as he filled a glass with water, drank quickly from it, and set it back down on the counter. He walked out of the room, and the light clicked off.
My body relaxed, and I released a weighted breath and crawled out from under the table. My mind was buzzing with possibilities of how that situation could have gone wrong, the clock in my head ticking past 1:35. I was kind of surprised that the White House Kitchen staff didn't keep the underside of their tables cleaner. I rubbed off dust bunnies and food crumbs off my shirt and pants when all of a sudden, I was shrouded in incandescent light.
There, standing in the middle of the kitchen and looking at me like I was a martian, was a shirtless Warren Layne Edley. He looked dazed, and his bed head only added to the confused look he was sporting. Slowly, he rasped, "What the... hell?"
Five and a half seconds went by of us just staring at each other. I was paralyzed by a fear I had never felt before as his clouded over blue eyes took me in. I couldn't even believe what was happening as I went through it.
"Um," I whispered. I hadn't prepared for this. I'd made no excuse. I hadn't anticipated the distraction of abs and messy brown hair.
"Why are you in my kitchen?" he asked me with a husky middle-of-the-night voice.
"Uh, you know I would love to stay and chat, but I really should get going," I finally managed to say, rushing through the doorway that was just inches from him, and going back the way I came.
His voice faded as I ran away, but I caught the words "Who are you?" come my way before I was out of earshot.
"Shit, shitty, shit, shit!" I muttered under my breath as I raced back to my room. I shouldn't have tried to run away the first night. I got caught. I was sloppy. All it takes is one person to be alert of your presence to ruin everything.
I swung my door open, re-screwed the doorknob in place, and changed into my pajamas as fast as possible. My breaths came quick and raspy when I pulled the covers up my chin.
This wasn't good. Not at all. I had managed to break the one rule I never thought I would.
I don't ever use this word lightly, but it's appropriate to say I was terrified of the repercussions of my mistake.
No one sees a strange girl of their own age in their kitchen and does not investigate it further.
Soon, I would find out what the egotistical guy meant when he said 'severe consequences'.
"Shit."
------------------------------------------------------------------
So I hope that first meeting was unique enough. Warren is played by Max Irons (swoon), and there's a pic down below! Keep supporting this story please, and tell me what you think. Charlotte may be a little rough around the edges, but I think you will like her.
Thanks for reading!