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Devlin taught me to endure, and I’m going to need every bit of that for what lies ahead.
“Ms. Cabot.” The woman who escorted me to my room earlier opened my door and walked in. “I have a dress for you to wear tonight. You can try it on right after your bath.”
“Okay…” I nodded aimlessly as she left the room.
The dress--the bath--getting ready. It brought back memories of the day I sold my soul to the devil. The difference was that I actually did want Devlin to own me, deep down, where I was afraid to admit it--even to myself. There was no thrill in what was going to happen to me at the hands of Winter and Connor. Neither one of them were attractive or desirable. One was a succubus. The other was a pathetic excuse to his gender.
I had no problem with Connor’s kinks, but they collided with his vows, and were going to take the piece of my innocence Devlin left behind. The thought of being touched by Connor sickened me, and it was hard to keep my sanity in check when I thought about Winter doing things to me that could be even worse than Connor’s twisted desires. I wondered what my sister really thought of her husband. Was she a willing partner, or trapped like me?
“Ms. Cabot?” Another woman opened my door--she appeared to be a maid--younger and friendlier looking than the woman who escorted me to my room.
“Yes?” I turned my head in her direction.
“Mistress Sloane thought you would like to have a snack before your meeting.” The maid pushed the door open and rolled a cart into my room.
“Thank you…” I replied on instinct, but immediately wondered why I was thanking anyone due to my current predicament.
As soon as the maid left, I walked over and lifted the cover from the food. There was an assortment of cheeses, breads, and a sliced apple. I was immediately reminded of how long it had been since I ate. Days? Weeks? It was hard to know how much time I spent in the darkness. I pulled the cart over to the bed, sat down, and started to devour the food--no regard for the manners I was taught--no regard for the grape juice that ran from the edge of my lips. I washed it down with water--sweet sustenance--everything on the tray tasted like manna from heaven with a glass of euphoria.
I felt so much better after I ate, but my stomach quickly began to ache. I overdid it, but I didn’t care--I needed it too much. With one need met, another arose. I was absolutely filthy. I walked into the bathroom and started running a bath. I would have enjoyed the water under different circumstances, but there was no comfort--just a need to wash the dirt away.
My ass and thighs hurt when the water touched them, but I swallowed the pain and simply scrubbed away the filth. My skin. My fingernails. My hair. Everything from the musty old room turned black in the water before it went down the drain. I was sure some blood joined it, but the water was too dark for me to tell.
After my bath, I stretched out on the bed and closed my eyes for a moment. It felt so soft--I wasn’t even sure I would feel a bed again after being alone in that musty room for so long. I pulled the blanket around my body, and It felt like my eyes were only closed for a second, but then my door opened and I was startled awake.
“I’ve come to take a look at your injuries.” It was an older man with white hair and thick glasses. “I’m a doctor.”
“Okay.” I nodded and sat up, but kept the blanket around my body.
“I’ve been told your wrist is the main thing I need to check.” He had a soft voice--calm and relaxing--the kind that made you want to trust him.
“Probably so…” I pushed my arm out from underneath the blanket.
“That’s going to get infected.” He sighed and leaned forward. “Can I touch your arm?”
“Um--yes.” I nodded.
It was strange to have someone ask permission--it had been so long since anyone had. The doctor didn’t seem like he belonged in Sloane Manor. He didn’t look like he was evil, or the kind of person who would associate with Winter Sloane, but I reminded myself that looks could easily be deceiving. I thought Connor was a good guy the day my sister married him--he pretended to be a man when he was on his knees as a boy for his so-called Mistress.
“It may scar, but I think I can treat it without taking you to the hospital. Let me get my things…” The doctor stood up and left the room.
I had to stifle a laugh. Winter wouldn’t have let him take me to the hospital, even if he thought I needed to go. I almost considered trusting the doctor--just telling him I was a prisoner and begging him to remember his Hippocratic Oath. I was just too scared.
