“Morning.” I knocked on the open door.
At my greeting, her head turned my way, her acknowledgment nothing more than that usual stilted expression brightened only by sunlight bathing her caramel skin and dark hair.
“Slept well?” I knew it wasn’t the case. She just stared. “Would you like to do something different today? A walk in the garden perhaps to meet the pretty roses, see the birds and the bees?”
“No” I wasn’t expecting her to agree. She swept her wet hair to the side, my shirt riding up as she did, showing me a hint of her naked backside. While she’d learned to use the bathroom fully, she not only refused the clothes Juliette had bought, she also refused to wear the knickers I purchased. I knew it was a matter of comfort, not disrespect.
“Okay, what about some television then.” That got me a frown. Her gaze following my movements, I grabbed a remote from the coffee table, pressed a button, and waited for the television to reveal itself from behind a hidden panel in the wall.
I sensed the girl’s curiosity before she neared it and touched the black screen. “It works with a remote.” I held out the device in my hand. Her gaze drifted from the television to the remote, then lifted to my face. “Press this.” I pointed to the red button at the top.
She took it, pressed the button, and gasped when the box came to life. A deep frown etched into her brow, she touched the screen again, then looked at me.
“Now press this.” I pointed to a button with two arrows. “Up for loud, down for soft.”
She followed my instruction, but the sound grew loud too quickly. Dropping the remote, she slapped her hands to her ears and backed away.
I cursed my stupidity for forgetting she’d been locked in a soundproofed basement and every new noise would be disproportionate to normal human hearing. Picking up the remote, I lowered the sound. “It’s okay, love,” I soothed, nearing her. Her eyes darted to the television before her hands fell away from her ears. “One touch at a time, okay?” I showed her how the sound worked, but she refused to take it.
Then I pointed to the buttons to select channels. As I did, whether it was fate playing her hand or not, a Cinderella fairy-tale slipped into view. Immediately, the girl’s eyes widened. This time, she took the remote and tried it herself. I caught her quick worry when the channel changed, and she rapidly pressed buttons until Cinderella reappeared, her soft singing filling the air. Slowly, the girl moved closer to the television, her gaze riveted on the screen.
Intrigued by her fascination, I neared her. “Not too close. You can sit on the bed and watch.”
She nodded without looking at me. Deciding I’d garnered her interest in something other than staring out the window, I walked away.
“Thank you,” the polite words caught my ear. I turned and offered her a smile hoping to get one in return. It didn’t come.
I’ll wait.
Outside her room, I dialed Juliette. Two days ago, we’d discussed Cinder’s recovery, and while we were both happy with her progress, we decided it was time to bring in a psychologist. If for nothing else but guidance.
Chapter 23 – Xavier
“Hi there, my name’sMark. Would you like to tell me your name?”
Three days later, I watched Cinder eye Mark Rutherford, a psychologist out of London, with unconcealed suspicion. It took me almost thirty minutes to convince her he was there to help and wouldn’t hurt her. After a lengthy discussion with Juliette, she decided Mark was the best and now waited downstairs since Cinder refused to speak to him alone.
