Page 15

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Had I been so consumed by my hatred for Remo that the first man to sweep in and take me away had become my dark and horrid sweat dream?

My body was deceiving me, going against my mind and doing what it wanted. And I couldn't stop it.

Flicking my head down to the chain, I pulled on the metal leash. There were several feet of it hidden behind the dresser. The chain was long enough I could move around the room with ease, and not really get caught on anything. Flipping the leash over the mattress, I walked to the window.

It was the only other exit I could see. There was a door against the far wall, leading into a bathroom, and that was it. At least there was one viable way I could possibly escape.

The curtains were drawn and thick as a fleece blanket, sealing out the world. Coiling my fingers around the hem, I pulled them back. To my surprise, there were no bars. I was certain there would be bars to keep me in . . . Or anyone else who happened into this room.

The chain was bolted to the wall, so I wasn't the first person to end up here. I knew that much.

Tapping my lips, I felt the edge of the sill for a lock. There was nothing.

Could it be that easy? Could I open this window and jump out?

Leaning into the glass, I looked down at the dark ground. I couldn't tell exactly how far up I was, but I didn't care. I'd take a broken leg over being tortured or killed. It was a small price to pay for freedom.

Fiddling with the chain, I tried to shift it over my hips. I couldn't squeeze out, twisting and dipping my waist, I tried to force it down over my body. But it was too tight, locked, and unbreakable.

Glaring at the window, I looked back at the door and listened. There was nothing but silence and the occasional creak of the house. Pressing my palms to the glass, I pushed up. It felt stuck, not budging.

Taking a deep breath, I used my fingers to wrap over the top of the frame and pushed again. Grunting, I bent at the knees and used every bit of muscle I could find to open that window.

And still nothing.

I slipped to the floor, my back pressed against the wall, head falling into my hands.

Shit. What now?

Snapping my head up, I looked around the room. The walls were all bare, just like the downstairs. There were no knickknacks, or tiny decorations to give away whose room this might have been at one point in time.

What kind of house is this?

The room was blank, deprived of touch. The walls were so bare and placid that I found myself wondering what stories this room was hiding.

Was it filled with bloodshed and tears, people begging and merciless beatings?

Or was it once filled with the loud churning of children and laughing of a family that was enjoying escape from their reality?

Does it matter?

I was in a chamber; my last memory was this, and nothing about this was mine at all.

There was a single dresser against the wall near the door, a bed, and a wooden chair set in the corner.

As I sat there staring around the room, my eyes kept getting drawn back to the chair.

Break it. I can break it.

Standing quickly, I walked to the chair and ran my fingers gently across the smooth ridge. Then it hit me.

What good is breaking it if I'm still chained to the room?

Staring down at my leash, I tried to pry the motherfucker off my body. Pushing and rolling, the metal scraped against my skin, leaving deep red scratches. But I couldn't get it over my hips.

Laying on the bed, I bent my knees and lifted my ass up. I was determined to get this fucking thing off me. The pain was the least of my worries.