“Excuse me, Ms. Conti,” she says quietly, not quite meeting my gaze. “I-I’m here to collect the laundry.”
I nod mutely and watch as she gathers the towels from the bathroom, the sheets I stripped off the bed, and my dirty clothes.
She works quickly, clearly uncomfortable being in the room with me.
I don’t blame her. I must look positively feral.
When she leaves, I hear her footsteps fade down the hallway.
But I don’t hear the distinctive click of the lock re-engaging.
I wait a full minute, my heart pounding, then try the door handle. It turns freely.
She forgot to lock it.
Whether from nervousness or distraction or simple human error, the young maid forgot to secure my prison.
I need to get out of this room.
The walls feel like they’re closing in, suffocating me with memories of last night that I desperately need to escape.
I can’t be in here anymore and if the maid has forgotten to lock me in, I’m going to use that to my advantage.
The hallway is quiet, most of the staff probably downstairs preparing breakfast or attending to their duties.
I wander aimlessly, not really paying attention to where I’m going, just needing to move, to put distance between myself and that bedroom.
I find myself in a wing of the mansion I haven’t explored before. The décor here is different.
It’s less ostentatious and more personal.
Family photographs line the walls, expensive but not showy.
A closed door at the end of the hallway calls to me for reasons I don’t understand.
I should turn around. I should go back to my room and wait for Maria to bring breakfast and pretend last night never happened.
Instead, I reach for the doorknob.
My self-preservation screams at me to turn around.
This wing is clearly private and not meant for anyone like me.
But there’s no sign saying I can’t enter.
There’s no explicit warning.
And some reckless part of me—the same part that destroyed that expensive dress—wants to push boundaries.
My hand trembles on the doorknob.
This is stupid.
This is asking for trouble I can’t afford.
I turn it anyway.
It’s unlocked, which surprises me. I push it open slowly, half expecting alarms or guards to appear, but there’s only silence.
