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Not that I have a house. All I have in the world is here with me. My sketchbook and a single pencil. My cellphone. An overwhelming sense of guilt that I got myself into this mess.
It wasn’t like I was dragged here kicking and screaming. I came voluntarily. Walked right up to the front door. How dumb can you get?
Now I’m stuck here. I don’t even get to eat, apparently. So I’m starving hungry, trying to ignore the growling coming from my stomach.
I don’t want to eat, anyway. I want to get out of here. No idea where I’m going to go, but I can’t stay here. If I do, the little voice at the back of my mind might grow louder, the one that tells me getting pregnant by Marco Donatello wouldn’t be that bad.
I’d get to see him naked. The idea makes me quiver inside. I only have to close my eyes and then I can imagine it all I like. So I don’t close my eyes. I don’t want to think of him that way. I want to get out of here. I can’t think of my captor as my lover.
Stockholm Syndrome, ahoy.
The battery on my cellphone is down to ten percent. I’ve tried to make some calls. No luck. Messages aren’t getting through.
I turn it off. Never know when I might need that last bit of juice. I’ve no idea of the time, but it’s dark outside. It must be getting late.
I’ve been sketching for a while, trying to shut my mind down, ignore the fact I’m a prisoner here. I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about why I’m a prisoner, either.
My father killed Marco’s family. Marco thinks I deserve punishing for this? What does that say about him?
I decide to try and sleep, but it’s useless. I’ve never been a good sleeper, but to try in a house where I can’t escape reminds me too much of some of my foster carers. I’m on high alert from the moment I get into bed. I try for over an hour before giving up.
I decide I might as well see if I can get something to eat. Maybe Marco’s asleep. Maybe his guards are, too. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a way out of here.
I get dressed. My clothes have finally dried but they still smell musty when I slip into them.
I make my way downstairs, listening hard. I can hear a man’s voice singing faintly, somewhere in the distance. Is that Marco? I can’t make out many of the words, but I can tell it’s Italian, not English. Is he drunk? He sounds like he’s slurring his words.
The noise is getting louder.
I turn and head in the opposite direction. I find a set of stairs and climb up them. Another flight and then there’s a ladder. Maybe it goes into the roof. Maybe I can get out this way. I hoist myself up, shoving open a trapdoor into an attic.
There’s a light switch that I hit, illuminating the space in front of me. Boxes are piled up on one side of the attic. The other is taken up with toys that look like someone only just finished playing with them. I walk that way, listening as the singing fades away again in the distance.
In front of me is a collection of miniature toys. Princess, dragons, knights. Ogres. I pick up a princess, examining it closely. Very detailed. Made of carved wood and hand painted. I’m guessing it was expensive.
“You shouldn’t be up here,” a woman’s voice says behind me. I slip the princess into my pocket as I spin around. Eva’s sticking her head up through the hatch. “If he catches you up here, there’ll be hell to pay. Come on down.”
I head over to the ladder, following her down to the floor below. “You mustn’t go up there again.”
“Got it,” I nod.
She walks away. I try all the doors on this floor, but they’re all locked. I can hear the singing again but it’s very faint now.
I descend the stairs all the way to the first floor. I try several doors. Most are locked, but one is open. I go through and find myself in a surprisingly small kitchen. In the middle of the room is a square wooden table. Sitting at it are Giuseppe and Eva, playing cards laid out in front of them. “Good evening,” Giuseppe says. “Settling in, all right?”
“Is that what you call it?” I reply.
“You’ll get used to it here,” Eva continues. “I love working here.”
“That’s great for you.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
Giuseppe gets up and goes over to a cupboard, pulling it open. “Want us to cook you something?”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat anything until I got dressed up for dinner.”
