Page 41 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
I no longer drag myself out of bed and get dressed every morning. There’s no point. Days blend into nights and days again. I swear I can feel my sanity slowly slipping away and madness creeping in on the periphery of my being. At eight thirty on the dot, the door opens the same way it does every morning. I wait for the breakfast tray to appear on the side table, but this time, the door is thrown wide. An older man stands there, and I’ve never seen him before. He doesn’t wear a suit, just a T-shirt and jeans that sit below his beer gut. He offers me a cheery smile that creases the corners of his eyes before placing the tray down. Then he wordlessly turns and walks away. The door just remains open. He must have left it open by mistake. He’s new, so maybe no one told him that I’m supposed to be locked in. I push to my feet and tentatively creep forward. I could run. Make it to the fence and try to climb it. That must be how Sasha got in and out before, so it’s not impossible. As I stare through the open gap, I feel like a captive animal, unsure if I want freedom because out there is unknown. I’m torn between my impending madness and the very reason I came here—to get close to him. But I’m not getting close from here. My delusions of his ever treating me like his fiancé are now very clear; I’m nothing but a prisoner.
I decide not to risk it and drag myself out of bed and into the shower. Then, I resume my usual place on the balcony. Lunch comes and goes. One tray disappears, and another appears in its place. Still, the door remains open. Then again in the evening. Enrique may just be taunting me, but these four walls are driving me stir crazy.
I creep toward the door, and with each footstep, I feel like it’ll slam closed in my face any minute. By the time I’m out in the hallway, my heart is thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings. I decide to make a break for it. I hurry along the clinical, white corridor and down the stairs, my bare feet making no sound over the thick carpet. Whenever I hear anyone coming down a hall, I duck and hide. Finally, I spot a door that leads outside, and I stumble into the night air. It’s only then that I realize what I’ve just done. I hid like a scared child. In a few weeks, Enrique has broken me down so that merely leaving my room feels terrifying.
I inhale the humid air, which, even though I’ve spent most of the last weeks on the balcony, feels fresher and cleaner without the confines of my shiny prison. I round the corner of the house and find the pool. The back wall of the house spills light through its glass panes over the turquoise water. It’s so inviting, and I want to jump in. Though part of me wants to retreat away from the light, where I can’t be so easily seen. And that’s the very reason that I approach and drop to the ground, dipping my feet in the cool water. I will not fear Enrique. The second I allow him to dictate my actions, I’ve already lost. This is now a battle of wills. I have no doubt my imprisonment is all part of his twisted manipulation.
My feet swirl back and forth through the cool water, and I slowly relax, listening to the cicadas chirping in the long grass beyond the boundary of the lawns. Fireflies buzz around lazily, and the scent of fresh honeysuckle and cut grass surround me. The moon hangs high in the sky, painting the gardens beyond the pool in tones of silver. I sit there for minutes, hours; I don’t know. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I feel as though someone’s watching me. My gaze darts around, scanning the windows until I finally see him. Enrique leans over one of the balconies above me. My balcony. A feeling of unease twists my stomach, but my eyes lock with his regardless. The last time we saw each other, he showed his true colors. I now know he thrives on fear. He wants me powerless, but power is more than just a visceral thing. It’s a state of mind. And so, I stare at him for long moments before finally diverting my attention to the water. When I next glance up at the balcony, Enrique is gone. I release a tense breath, and my shoulders relax slightly.
On a sigh, I push to my feet. If I don’t go back inside, I have no doubt, someone will come looking for me. As soon as I step back into the house, my heart sinks. The air instantly feels thicker, stifling. My footsteps are silent as I hurry along the hall and head for the stairs. There’s a sudden outburst from somewhere in the house, and I freeze.
