Daddy Dearest.
The beds in my dorm weren’t what I’d call top quality. They were stiff, lumpy, and smelled like mothballs. Kind of what I imagine a prison cot felt like. Not that I was complaining. A bed was a bed. Besides, the need to stretch was my cue that it was time to get up. That was just how every morning started.
Except for today.
Instead, I nuzzled into the cloud under me. My bed was never this soft before. Come to think of it, nothing I owned was this silky. And since when did my room smell this good?
Usually, I was choking on the overwhelming stench of my roommate’s perfume, but there wasn’t so much as a hint of that floral scent in the air. It actually smelled fresh with a slightly familiar undertone.
My brows knit as I tipped my head. Distant sounds were hitting my ears.
What was that?
It was like a soft, lapping echo. Was that…water? That didn’t make sense. There were no lakes or beaches near Loftry. Why the hell would I hear water?
Oh my god!
My heart lurched forward, banging against my ribs.
It wasn’t just any body of water. It was the ocean. I was back in Ashen Springs!
I shot up and clutched my chest. All I could see was the look in Brian’s eyes. A nice, normal guy whose only infraction was talking to me. And now he was dead. I could still taste that coppery tinge on the back of my tongue. It was right there, getting thicker with every swallow I forced down my dry throat.
His blood was everywhere. I had to get it off me.
My hands frantically pawed at my body, trying to eliminate the red tinting my vision, but my fingers weren’t clawing at fabric. They were dragging along skin. My skin. The jeans and shirt I was wearing before were gone. All I had covering me was my underwear.
One thought rang through my mind as I stared down at the dried brown spots dotting the top of my bra. Someone stripped me.
No, not someone. Preston. And he didn’t just remove my clothes. He touched me. There was no blood on my skin, not one single speck of transfer from my stained bra. Preston Whitley had put his hands on me.
I was going to be sick.
My body hunched over as I gagged. I couldn’t chase away the images making my stomach churn. What else did he do to me? Everything felt normal, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t violated.
“It’s okay,” I whispered to myself.
He wouldn’t have raped me. Not yet. Preston would want me awake for something like that. So he could watch me struggle. As uncomforting of a thought as that was, it allowed me to breathe and calm down enough to get my bearings.
Giving into panic wouldn’t do me any good. I needed to figure out my situation and what I had at my disposal to devise a plan. Everything from this point on relied on one moment of opportunity. If I acted brash and missed my chance, I was as good as dead.
“One moment,” I reiterated while sitting back to take in my surroundings.
The first thing that slapped me in the face was the thick metal bars circling me. My eyes followed their path up to a domed roof above. The raven perched at the top sent a chill through my bones. I’d seen it before on the person-sized birdcage Preston moved into Whitley Manor.
If I had my days correct, that was eight months, three weeks, and two days ago. I spent the entire afternoon watching various boxes and furniture arrive. A year before that, construction started. I didn’t dare get close enough to see what Preston was fixing, but the sound of power tools and hammers echoed long into the night.
Meaning he’d put a lot of planning into this. The birdcage I was locked in was an indicator of that. My guess was that this room was one of the ones I’d heard him working on. The open beam roof screamed attic, while the dark cherrywood walls and floor appeared shiny and new. Then there was the open door to my left, though I wouldn’t call it that since there wasn’t an actual door—just an empty frame displaying the clean white tiled floor on the other side.
It was a bathroom. I could see the edge of what I thought was a toilet. There wasn’t much else in here. The large bed, whose platform frame appeared to be built into the floor, dominated the room. A dresser with a single lit-up lamp was next to a large metal door. I was, however, curious about the contents of the black steamer trunk beside the bed.
Maybe I could find a weapon in there? I sure as hell wasn’t going to find one in here. The cage was amazingly empty. I didn’t even have a blanket. Just the large plush purple pillow I was sitting on.
I ran my hand along the material and sighed. At least it was soft. There was always the option of smothering him with it, though I wasn’t sure I could handle something this size, let alone lift it. It was almost as big as the bed.
A shiver ran up my spine as my eyes landed on the mattress across the room. The implications of that piece of furniture were terrifying. Preston even gave me a warning two years ago.
‘I don’t fuck little girls.’
