Arabella, 20 years old, applies for a job in New York as an assistant costume designer on the set of upcoming movie 'Twisted Impurity' staring none other than Harry Styles. Initially, she's thrilled but realises it isn't all the dream she imagined...
My eyes peeled open to reveal nothing but a grey stone ceiling. Where was I?
I managed to use my arms, aching as they pulled me up. I use the back of my palm to wipe my blurry eyes, trying to focus my vision.
The ceiling matched the walls surrounding me. All made from the same stone. The only difference was the wall right of me, if it was covered with lines representing tallies, I'm guessing they were counting days. Except there weren't just a few scattered, they made up the whole wall, corner to corner. One tally made it onto the next wall when the other became filled but it hadn't continued to be as covered as the other wall.
I had been laying in a low bed, only a few inches off the ground. I hastily stood up from the bed, walking backwards until my back hit the opposite wall. Now I'm going haywire.
In the corner of my eye, I see a red light. When I turn my face to look at the top corner of the room, it lands on a camera. Is someone watching me?
I was still in my white dress, only now it wasn't so white. It had dust littered in random places and the edge was now a shade of brown.
I didn't have my bag either; I didn't have my phone.
I don't know how to react. Despite the fact I had never imagined myself in this situation, I would not have thought I'd be this calm (even if I am worrying on the inside).
My eyes raced around the room until they land on an anomaly; a note, near the bed.
I sit on my knees in front of the bed, pick it up and see my name written on the front.
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I lift the top piece of paper to reveal the message:
I did want an explanation, but this just crosses the line of what I meant.
You'll be fine.
Forgive me if that's not as comforting as they wanted it to be.
-Harry
When I see that motherfu-
Footsteps. Outside my door. I watch as the shadow passes past a door.
A door. It's metal, with one of those speakeasy grilles. After reading the note, I walk over to the door and peep through the grille. I see a corridor straight ahead; stone walls like this room, black tile flooring and a blue-painted ceiling with white ceiling lights. No one was there.
I don't care what Harry says, I clearly can't trust him. I need to get out of here.
I once again stare around my room to figure out what options I have here. Worth a try to attempt to escape. I'm not sitting still until he comes.
