I don’t know how much longer I can fight it. This desire to let him have me and see where this takes us. Will he make me stay here forever? I don’t think he will.
I should ask him. He hasn’t lied to me, and I think he’d tell me the truth. He hasn’t hidden anything from me. But I’ve hardly asked a thing.
A small huff of a dark laugh leaves my lips and sounds crazy to my ears, but I don’t care.
My father wanted me to ask questions, to listen. What a fucking idiot. The Romanos don’t even have me. If he knew where I was, he’d be furious. He wasted a pawn.
My shoulders shudder slightly with a laugh, and a smile plays at my lips. It shouldn’t fill my chest with warmth, but it does.
He used me, and got nothing in return. And he has no idea where I am.
The realization lifts a weight from my shoulders, and I ease into the thick blanket. He’s not coming for me. That’s never been true in all my life.
My eyes open and I stare blankly at the wall, the smile slipping, but what life is this that I have?
I sit up and look at the clock and the chalkboard.
I asked him for music, but he hasn’t brought me any. I have nothing. The reality is that I’m wasting my time, and my life.
I don’t even know what I’d do if I were to ever get out of here. I’d run, of course. But when would I stop? And where would I go?
I remember a picture my mother had in her room. It was of her family. My nana and papa. I never met them, but it was taken back when my mother was a girl. The three of them were on the beaches of France. I’d love that.
I’d love to go there. If for nothing else than to listen to the waves, and pretend I lived in their time. That I could have shared that with them.
That’s where I’d run, far away. I catch sight of the chalk next to the board, and my body stirs.
I need to write it down, so I don’t forget. Happiness is something that’s a rarity for me, but I have it now. I can’t let it go.
I look at the time, and I know I’m still safe. I don’t have to run, so I don’t feel any anxiety. I even stretch, letting out a yawn that creeped up on me. It feels good to move. I almost walk directly to the board, but then I remember he put clothes in the closet. They were only meant to tempt me, and so I ignored them. But now… I want to see them. I want to feel them.
There are only three simple dresses draped on plastic hangers. There's a black one with a black lace overlay. Underneath is silk. The texture feels so soft and smooth. Has it always felt this way? It’s so luxurious. I eye the other two garments, which are a short red spaghetti strap nightie, and an almost identical cream one. They look beautiful, but the black one calls to me. I feel like I need it. I don’t put it on though, not yet, knowing that I’m going to be playing with the chalk. I don’t want to dirty the beautiful fabric.
I lay it in the cage, wondering if I’ll ever wear it and quickly grab the chalkboard. It’s awkward to carry because of its size, but the cage is so large, it’s easy to prop up the board and sit cross-legged in front of it. I’m careful to draw around the times that Gio wrote.
I lay the piece of chalk flat and make a wave, and then another. I layer them and use my fingernail to add details to the waves. I want them to look like the ocean is drifting away.
Like they’ve only just come up from the current, but they’re already slipping back into the abyss to blend in with the others. But in this moment, they’re different.
I stare at the sketch, which somehow has texture to it although I only have the one piece of chalk. One color to work with.
I want more. I need more. I’m not able to draw it like I can picture it in my head.
I could ask him for more, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to have to plead with him for anything. Other than for him to take me.
The dark thought makes me drop the piece of chalk. My heart hammers harder in my chest.
I only know two things in this moment. Two truths which are extremely clear to me.
I need to get out of here, and that starts with getting out of this cage.
Chapter 15
Gio
I spend most of the day watching Grace draw.
At first I didn’t know what she was doing when she moved the chalkboard. I figured she might try to write some kind of message with it and hold it up to a window, or maybe she would break it into pieces and use them for something.
