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One more inhale, then I climb to my feet and shuffle over to one of the two sinks, and turn the water to hot.
There are large rectangular mirrors above each sink, and that gentle glow filling the room is coming from behind them, making it look like the mirrors are floating off the wall. Their bronze frames suspended in the air.
In the reflection, I can make out a giant freestanding bathtub and a shower stall, big enough for a party, surrounded by opaque frosted glass.
And it’s nice. I expected it to be opulent, but warm and welcoming… The white and tan and bronze colors are not what I would’ve pictured.
I fill my palms with hand soap and while I’m lather furiously, I lean forward and sniff the fresh eucalyptus sitting in a vase between the sinks.
Stop admiring the killer’s bathroom.
After washing my hands twice, I cup some water in my palms, sipping some so I can swish the nasty taste out of my mouth.
My eyes are red and puffy, my nose is pink, my cheeks are flushed, and I still have tears clinging to my lashes. But thankfully, I don’t have puke in my hair. So that’s one small win, in a sea of losses.
Hoping for another win, I open the cabinets under the counter until I come across a bottle of mouthwash.
“Thank fuck.” I twist the top off, and after hesitating for only a moment, I bring the bottle to my lips. If King has a problem with me putting my mouth on this, he shouldn’t have kidnapped me.
I do it twice, just to be sure, then I return the bottle to its spot and cautiously step back into the bedroom. The really, really nice bedroom.
I obviously have no idea who King is, or what he does, but he clearly has money. And lots of it.
The whole house is impressive. Huge and clean and well decorated, but somehow not pretentious. Beautiful, but not stark in that ultra-modern style most rich bachelors go for. All black, minimalist, zero personality design. But I think that makes this creepier. Because it looksnormal.
I turn my back on the oversized bed with crisp white bedding.
Across the room is an unlit fireplace, with a comfortable looking chair and ottoman aimed towards the mantle. And covering the whole wall is a beautiful built-in bookcase.
My eyes slide over to the door.
I’m sure it won’t open.
I know it won’t.
But I step up to it and try anyways.
The handle doesn’t so much as wiggle.
Okay.
Stay calm.
I face the room again.
There has to be a window… My brain slaps me upside the head. Straight across from me is a set of wide French doors.
I hurry over and see the balcony just on the other side. A balcony that’s only one story off the ground, and there’s probably a bush or something I could jump into…
I hold my breath as I try to open the door, but it doesn’t budge either.
“Shit.”
Grabbing the handle with both hands I lean all my weight into it, but it’s like I’m trying to open a brick wall. There’s literally no give.
I make a frustrated growl in the back of my throat and let go.
He can’t just lock me in here. This is unlawful imprisonment!
