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Going through the files for hours isn’t going to be an option. Before, Damien wasn’t going to be home all night, and I’d gone crazy, and now it’s past midnight. Who knows how early he will be back to the penthouse? I can’t take any chances. I need to find something and get out because no way am I going to be able to get another opportunity to go through the papers in his study if he catches me in there in the twilight hours or into the morning. I need to not let this moment over-excite me and lead to me getting caught. I have to be the same level of meticulous with this room that I’ve been in every other room in the house. In fact, I probably need to be more careful in this room.
That’s when I see tickets. Between all the manila folders with relatively mundane financial and real estate holdings, there are tickets of some kind that pertain to me. I don’t quite understand what I’m seeing, but there’s a basic physical description of me, my birthdate, and my height and weight, inside the folder with the documents labeled as tickets. I don’t know what this means, but I know this is key. Somehow, I’ve found this ticket to both my current imprisonment, and the freedom I know I have to fight for.
I have to be on the lookout for Damien’s every move, for any other openings. That way, I’ll be able to get my freedom.
Taking a final look at them, I commit them as much to memory as I can; I try to piece everything back together. I can’t scuttle from that study fast enough.
As I leave, I don’t know if I should close the door or not. I decide to err on the side of making it looked untouched and to try and keep the door the same level of ajar as it was before.
Crawling into my bed, finally, I can breathe. I’m exhausted, and yet wide awake. I finally fall asleep not long before breakfast. In my nightmares, I have the ticket tattooed all over my body and can’t hide it from Damien. I wake up before he reacts, and I’m glad. I can’t take much more of this restless sleep. My mind is in tatters from the anxiety.
8
Sarah
For a full week after I find the tickets, Damien is home at the condo every day and night. If he has to work, it must be what he does in his study. No longer absent from the condo, Damien is torturing me. I mean, he tortures me by not talking to me; he tortures me by not touching me, kindly or otherwise. I’m totally silent the entire week. He never tells me I can speak, and I don’t want to find out what happens if I disobey him.
Well, I don’t want to find out what would happen to me or how Damien would react…at first.
After a full week of eating the food his chef prepares, wearing the clothes he brings me, and sleeping in the bed in the room he says is mine…and I’m starting to wish I wasn’t being such a good girl.
Those are the only things he’s said to me.
Two seconds ago, he says I’m being such a good girl.
And now, after a week of going crazy, I don’t want to be good anymore. I want to be bad. Do I want to be bad enough to see how dark Damien might go? Not yet, but another day of silence and I might reconsider my gentle nature and how I’ll break this silence.
Sitting there, thinking about how I want to keep my cool and not say anything, I wait for him to speak. Somehow, the tangled mess in my mind decides that my brain and my mouth don’t need to communicate.
My lips start moving before I can stop them. “Are you going to keep me?” I speak, my voice so soft from being unused I hardly recognize it. I relish this sound; I won’t let it fall weak in my ears. I’m gathering my strength.
This is a calm before a storm. Where I save energy for figuring out how to get out. And right now, I’m rattling my cage. But why in the hell would I dare ask something so leading? Something that speaks to him owning me? I can’t allow that. Can’t accept that. Can I? God, why do those words infuriate and thrill me? And more than anything, I’m aching for Damien to respond. I want to hear him say something to answer it. I want him to react. God, do I want him to punish my disobedience? My breathing goes ragged and shallow and I try to regain my composure.
I let my eyes rise to meet Damien’s. That’s the wrong way to regain my composure.
