Page 48 of Silken Chains
The ledger, David, and the break-in at my apartment, the shadowy figure, and then… darkness.
Oh, God. Fear prickles over my nerve endings as I realize the gravity of my situation.
I’m not just in a strange room; I’m a captive.
Slipping my toes off the bed carefully, I feel the plush rug under my feet. “Wha-what? This rug is probably worth a fortune,” I whisper, a bit overwhelmed.
Is this a dream?
Pinching myself, I flinch. “Ouch! Nope, definitely not dreaming.” A chill breeze from the window cracked open. Weirdly quiet in here, like too quiet.
What’s this twisted game?
My eyes widen as I take in the bizarre scene—toys scattered around, children’s books stacked in a neat pile; my attention shifts to the picture frames lining the walls. Each one features the same little girl, a bright smile on her face, gray eyes sparkling with mischief, and dark hair cascading in gentle waves.
There’s something hauntingly familiar about those eyes, like I’ve seen them before… but where?
I stand up, my movements cautious, and as I walk past a giant mirror, I freeze.
What the…?
Glancing down at myself, I see the cashmere robe clinging softly to my figure. It’s elegant, way too elegant for a simple sleeping outfit. The fabric is smooth against my skin, a rich cream color that contrasts sharply with my bewildered expression in the mirror. It’s like I’m dressed for a fancy sleepover, not like someone who’s been kidnapped.
Are you kidding me right now?
“Who changed my clothes?” I whisper to myself. And who strips a kidnapped woman and dresses her in luxury nightwear?
Out of nowhere, I catch a glimpse of movement in the mirror, a small figure appearing behind me. For a moment, I think I’m seeing things.
“Ahhh!” I can’t help but let out a startled yelp. I spin around so fast I almost trip.
Standing right behind me is the girl from the picture frames, real as day. My heart’s doing a crazy dance, and for a split second, I’m half-convinced I’m about to wet myself.
“What? Who are you?” I blurt out, my heart pounding. “Are you a ghost?” As soon as I say it, I realize how ridiculous it sounds.
Great, Laura, talking to ghosts now, are we?
The girl laughs, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yes… Boo!” she teases, taking a step closer.
Her eyes dancing with mischief. “Gotcha!”
I squint at her, almost certain I’ve lost it. “So, you’re actually real, huh? Didn’t just pop out of a picture frame or something, right?” I mumble, unsure if I’m hoping for a yes or a no.
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Of course, I’m real!” She comes closer. “I’m Elizaveta, but you can call me Eli. And you’re in my room!”
“Well, Eli, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” I can’t help but chuckle despite the surrealness of the situation.
She grins, proud of her little stunt. “You should’ve seen your face! It was like this!” She scrunches up her face in a comical expression of terror.
“Wait. I’m in your room?” I glance around again, finally connecting the dots—the toys, the books, it’s all stuff that would belong to a kid.
“Yes, I beg Mommy to have a sleepover in my room.” Eli beams, her smile infectious. Despite the bizarreness of my situation, her cheerfulness is hard to resist. It’s like she’s a tiny beacon of light in this confusing darkness.
A sleepover?
Who is “Mommy”?
“Eli, do you know… who brought me here?” My voice falters, a mix of confusion and a creeping sense of dread.
