surprised her
by adding, “Are you hungry?”
She wasn’t hungry, just tired, so incredibly tired. All she wanted
was to curl into a ball, cry herself to sleep, and hopefully never wake up.
Day-1
O
lga led her to her room. It was very
pretty, and girly. A woman had obviously lived there, a woman with expensive and
elegant taste. Who was this woman? Where was she now?
Olga politely asked her if she would need anything else before
excusing herself and closing the door. The door did have a lock, but the old style,
with a key, which Laura doubted would ever be given to her. It could have been
worse. She felt an urge to investigate her new living space, but her tiredness took
over in one swift wave. She barely had the strength to kick off her heels before
collapsing on the big fluffy bed, still wearing the grey chiffon dress.
She slept deeply and had many dreams, mostly about her childhood,
mostly about Peter. By the time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky. She opened
and shut her eyes a few times. She had almost forgotten… She decided she would not
move from the bed. She would stay there, right on that spot, and not move a muscle
until she died. The thought almost made her smile.
Olga came in a short while later, pushing a metal trolley bursting
with appetizing scents. “Ah, Miss Spencer, I’m glad to see you’re awake. I hope you
slept well. I would have knocked, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
Laura barely moved her head in her direction, tucking the sheet
further up to her neck.
“Well, I don’t want to disturb you. Master Kayne will be home for
supper. It will be served at seven, but I thought you might be a little hungry.”
Laura cringed at the mention of his name. How could this woman seem
so casual about the situation? Did she not know who her employer was? He was
obviously part of a criminal organization.Did she not care? Was she
some type of Mafia-wife nanny turning the blind eye?
“Supper…? What time is it?” she mumbled, her voice raspy from
sleep.
“Four thirty in the afternoon.” Olga was always smiling that kind
smile of hers.
“Uh, okay, thank you.”
“Well, if you won’t be needing anything else, I will be in the
kitchen. I can come back later if you like and give you the tour?” “No, thank you.
I’d rather stay in here, if that’s okay.” Laura wasn’t rude, just cautious. A small
part of her, her apparently very off intuition, led her to trust the woman, while
every other logical and pragmatic part of her screamed caution .
“As you wish.” Olga smiled again before heading out, leaving the
trolley in the room.
Laura was weary to touch the food. What if it was drugged? But what
would be the alternative, starve to death? She actually considered the option for a
moment, but dieting was never her strong suit. She seriously questioned her
willpower in the face of famine.
She slowly made her way out of bed, as if being observed, careful
with every move. Her ankle was still swollen and hurt the moment she tried to stand
on it. She limped to the trolley and dragged it close to the bed to sit back down.
The bed was safe, she had claimed it. The rest of the room was still hostile
territory.
She opened the metal dome to find eggs Benedict. She would have
usually been thrilled, but her stomach turned at the first bite. It was too heavy,
and her fragile nerves were affecting her appetite. She closed the dome, subdued,
and crawled back under the sheets. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She closed
her eyes and waited for sleep to come again.
It was six fifty when Olga come to fetch her. Laura had finally
taken notice of the grandfather clock in her bedroom. She had spent the day between
the bed and the en suite luxurious marblebathroom, which had proved
very useful after she got sick repeatedly, dry heaving into the toilet.
Olga rapped gently at the door. “Miss