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CHAPTER NINE
~Jules~
The alarm went off this morning, just as Travis said it would, and I let a groan escape from my battered body. I’m tired, and every bone in my body aches, especially my skull. I nervously find myself glancing around the room, expecting something like the boogieman to appear if I don’t start moving.
I begrudgingly slip out of bed and take a much-needed shower, still half-asleep. I take an extra-long time standing under the hot spray, enjoying the pounding stream of water beating against my tired and aching muscles.
I didn’t sleep well last night, despite the sleep medicine. My mind had raced with the unknown, and I dreamt crazy dreams of the things that lay behind the set of red curtains. I pull myself from my tired haze and grab the shampoo bottle resting on the shower’s shelf. My eyes squint in disbelief; it’s the very shampoo and conditioner I use at home. Coincidence? I shake my head; I don’t think so. I don’t have a good feeling about any of this, but I tell myself it could always be worse. Nick is right; despite my captivity, he’s made sure to provide me with quite a few comforting items.
What I really want to do, instead of getting ready, is fall to the shower floor and cry. If I allow myself to think about Adam, and the things I can’t control right now, I will collapse and fall apart. I want to allow myself the luxury so bad it hurts, but knowing myself, I know I won’t be able to recover. I feel a tiny tear prick at the corner of my eye, and it stings. Using the heels of my hands, I rub my irritated eyes, forcing myself to keep my emotions in check. I shake my head, and keep mumbling out loud to myself, how I need to keep my wits, and stay alert for an escape opportunity.
Once I feel the massaging hot spray has loosened my sore muscles, I turn off the shower water and dry myself with a big, fluffy towel. When I make my way out of the steamy bathroom, I feel as if I’m going to faint. I fumble for the sink’s countertop, and grab onto it for dear life. I’m really dizzy, and white spots begin to form before my eyes. My hands grip at the edge of the countertop a little tighter while I try to keep myself steady; maybe it’s a lag effect from all the drugs I’ve been given. It’s an odd sensation, like I’ve been spinning around in circles, then immediately stopped. After the light-headedness subsides, I notice through my peripheral vision I’m standing in front of a mirror, but I’m afraid to look at myself. I wonder how much black and blue will be painting my neck and face today. I let out a sigh and murmur to myself, “C’mon, Jules, just get it over with.”
I hesitate for a beat then slowly look up into the mirror and cringe. I bite my lower lip with worry, seeing the bruising on my neck from strangulation; it looks worse today, if that’s possible. My fingertips trail lightly over my sore jaw, taking stock of the damage. I really don’t see any bruising there, thank God, but it’s still sore as hell.
Once I decide I’ve had enough of looking at my pitiful self, I suddenly remember I’m on a time crunch, and I don’t know how much time was lost in the shower. I could’ve spent the entire day under the hot stream of water, balling my eyes out. I close my eyes tightly, refusing to revisit my inner turmoils, and focus on what I’m supposed to be doing.
I need to get dressed. Travis said my clothes would be laid out for me. I turn around and look at the end of the bed. Yep, someone must’ve come in while I slept and placed my outfit there. I walk over to inspect what it is I’m supposed to be wearing today and am somewhat surprised at what I see. Everything looks brand new and neatly-pressed. Light blue panties and a matching bra sit on top of a light blue, silky, button-up, sleeveless blouse and a pair of black dress pants. Black sandals sitting on the floor complement the ensemble.
I guess I could spend all day trying to figure this one out, but instead, I go ahead and quickly get dressed. I run my fingers through my damp hair and let it air dry. I turn around to find a breakfast tray sitting on the small kitchen table. I know I’m probably going to need every ounce of energy I can muster today, so I sit down, uncover my morning meal, and begin to eat. I’m glad it’s oatmeal and soft fruits, something my jaw muscles don’t have to work overtime chewing. I just hope the oatmeal was processed in a wheat-free facility.
