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“What if I would like to go out? I mean, it is our wedding night and all,” I push, trying to break up the awkwardness that circulates around us.
“Do you want to go out?” he questions mockingly as he descends one of the many darkened hallways.
“Well, no.”
“Then I suggest you get over it.”
Without another word, Van disappears, leaving me standing alone in the massive kitchen.
Suddenly, his threats and promises of punishment become very real. This house isn’t alive and warm like the house of Enoch.
This house is cold, silent, and empty.
Worse than solitary confinement.
Reese
Biscuit and I raid every cabinet we can find in the kitchen and choose the most expensive-looking bowls for her food, water, and litterbox. That’ll teach Van to stay in his room and leave us alone in his kingdom.
Not that his kingdom is all that amazing, now that I take a closer look. The pantry is in desperate need of stocking, and the refrigerator looks like a garden barfed in it. Is Van seriously a vegetarian?
“Well, Biscuit,” I say to the kitty at my feet, “shall we go find the best room our beast has to offer?”
Biscuit looks up at me, and the answer is clear in her wide cat eyes: No. No, we shouldn’t go roaming around dark mansions. That has never played out well for women or cats.
“I know,” I tell her, “but I’m tired, and unless we want to sleep on the tile floor, we’re going to have to figure out something else. Preferably a king-sized bed.”
Before Biscuit can cut me another serious look, I scoop her up, grab a bag of grapes, and head out into the dark dungeon, as I have deemed it.
We count five doors along the wide and expansive hallway that are locked. The sixth one, though, is a bathroom, which Biscuit uses to stretch her legs by clawing the shit out of the door frame. By the time we reach door number seven, we have a winner.
“A bed!” I say joyfully. “We have a freaking bed.” A large, masculine, and empty bed, just like Van’s soul.
“You want the left side or the right?” I ask Biscuit, entering the room.
I’m only slightly nervous that something might be lurking under the bed as I close and lock the door behind me.
“Never mind, I’ll take the right. You can have the left.” I set Biscuit down, and she wastes no time heading under the bed for safety. “Oh, under the bed is fine, too.”
I don’t blame her. Honestly, if I could fit under the bed, I would. It’s pretty creepy in here.
I’m not silly enough to believe there are more monsters than Van in this house, but just in case, I slide one of the chairs up under the door handle so if anything tries to get in here during the night, it’ll wake me up. Hopefully, long enough to scream. I’m not as proficient with fire or threats, like Van, but I can scream and hide like it’s an art form. Running, as I’ve already said, is pretty much not an option.
I don’t remember falling asleep. I don’t even know what time it is. All I know is that he’s pissed.
“Flower,” he yells, his voice threatening and low, “if you wanted to play a game, darling, you should have told me. You know hide-and-seek is my favorite.”
I roll my eyes. Fuck his hide-and-seek and stomping through the halls.
He’ll eventually find me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t piss him off first.
“Flower,” he calls again, his voice closer. “I’m growing impatient.”
What else is new?
“Show yourself and come out now.”
His voice is at the door. He knows I’m in here. If he didn’t, he would have already tried the handle and moved on.
