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Chapter Eight

I let out a deep sigh as I watched the sun slowly descend in the sky. The feeling of hopelessness filled every inch of me, forcing my hands to shut the heavy book resting in my lap and drop it on the polished oak floor. The hard cover was decorated ornately with golden images of girls in long dresses with glittering wings. Though filled with beautiful tales, this book provided no aid in my search for explanations, like the countless others I had read over the past few weeks.

I couldn't be sure of exactly how much time had passed me by. Every day I watched the sun rise and set but after the first three I just stopped counting. I didn't see the point. I was trapped within this room with no way out and no amount of counting would change that. The days that I had counted there were the ones spent searching for escape. Beyond trying to force my way through the locked door and window, I had spent every moment searching floor to ceiling for some kind of hidden escape or emergency exit.

After abandoning all hope of that I returned to the books, scouring each page for some kind of answer or insight but my head was simply filled with history and fiction. The only thing of real interest was the way the room changed from day to day. Nothing major was altered but, as I awoke every morning, I began to notice different clothes on the rack beside the vanity and new magazines lay upon the stack. The strange musical instruments were occasionally swapped out for even stranger instruments and any book I had read seemed to disappear, replaced by unfamiliar ones.

It didn't take too long for me to realise that someone had to be sneaking in and making these adjustments while I slept. I had attempted, on multiple occasions, to remain awake through the night to catch this person, but at a certain point each night the air would begin to smell and I could no longer resist the temptation, giving in to the inviting embrace of sleep.

Despite the further unease this experience left me with, I was grateful to awaken one morning to discover that the clothing selection had been changed completely. Ridiculously tight mini skirts and tube tops were replaced with comfortable jeans and loose t-shirts. The white night dress I had been wearing was slowly turning grey as I continually opted for it over the uncomfortable designer garb presented to me on the rack.

I rose to my feet, pushing myself out of the armchair by the window, almost bumping into the small table beside it. Atop it sat the untouched plate of cold eggs delivered that morning. I only ever received breakfast and rarely was I able to stomach it. Most days I just went without. I crossed the floor to the vanity, and gazed at my reflection, running my hand across the cool glass of the mirror.

My blonde hair had been returned to its former rainbow glory with the aid of the pigmented dyes set next to the canvas and paints on the other side of the room. My eyes were contact free, their individual hues as vibrant as ever. A simple, white dress dotted with delicate red flowers, like the ones in the garden, hung from my body. Two thin straps held up a fitted bodice, from which a loose, flowing skirt fell to my knees.

Though fear and paranoia plagued my mind, I felt happier than I had been in a long time. I finally felt like me again. A broad smile spread across my face and I began to spin in circles on the spot. I felt as light as air while my hair whipped around my face in a blur of colour. My arms shot out from my sides as I enjoyed this euphoric feeling, knocking something from the top of the vanity to the floor. I stopped mid twirl, stumbling a little, and dropped dizzily to the floor.

I began to search for whatever had fallen for a moment before noticing the day's fresh stack of magazines, promptly forgetting about the missing object. On top of the pile was a copy of Weekly Events, a picture of my mother looking up at me from the cover. I froze, staring at the image of my mother with a look of desperation in her eyes. Confusion and curiosity led me to snatch up the thin, glossy booklet and flip through the pages. I didn't understand what Mother was doing in Weekly Events. Her usual jobs were with fashion magazines, not ones filled with actual articles and news.

My eyes rapidly scanned the pages until I found a large headline which caught my attention.

"Come Home Verity," I read aloud, comforted by the sound of my own voice.

After being alone for so long I had developed a worrying habit of talking to myself, for lack of anyone else to talk to. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and swung my head around, searching the room for someone who wasn't there. I knew that I was alone, but I couldn't help feeling that I wasn't. Perhaps it was simply paranoia, but a sick sensation of being watched never quite left me. After a moment of still silence I returned to the article bearing my name, allowing the words to fill my mind but refusing to let them reach my mouth lest some invisible observer hear them.

It has been fifty years since the last disappearance occurred in Andéa but that blissful streak has now been broken. The shocking news of runaway, Verity Gould, has shaken the nation over the last month. The seventeen year old daughter of legendary actor/model couple Chace and Juniper Gould was last seen fleeing a friend's party after a fight with her boyfriend, Logan Brooks. Brooks contacted us with information on what had actually happened at the party that night.

"I was just messing around with Verity, trying to have some fun, but she was just killing the vibe," Brooks says.

"When I tried to get her to loosen up she freaked out and punched me in the face. Then she just ran off. I guess she felt bad about what she did. I should have gone after her."

Brooks also wished for us to deliver a message to verity, should she be reading this:

"I forgive you. My nose isn't broken and I am fine so you don't need to be scared. Please come home."

Chance Gould declined to comment and his wife, Juniper could say only one thing between her sobs:

"[Verity] was just starting to fit in, why would she run away from that?"

Before the article could fully sink in a loud ringing filled my ears. It was loud and urgent, like some kind of alarm. I tore my eyes from the page and searched for the source of this sound. It seemed to be coming from beyond the locked door and I leapt to my feet, wanting to know what was going on. This was the only sound I had heard from outside this room since I had woken up here. Rushing over to the door I began to desperately try to wrench it open but it didn't budge. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to think of another way to see what was going on but something behind me soon shut down my thoughts.

The sound of shattering glass burst over the alarm and I swivelled around to face the window. Jagged shards of glass glinted in the fading light, strewn across the floor in a random array, looking beautifully dangerous. I squinted against the blinding orange rays of the setting sun attempting to see what had caused this. I blinked a few times, raising a hand to shield my eyes and when the spots in my vision cleared my heart stopped.

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A/N

Hey everyone!

I know I don't usually do authors notes but I felt like I really needed to this time. First of all I want to thank everyone who reads, votes and comments for this story because that support really is what keeps me writing this. I'd also like to apologise for uploading the last few chapters late. I've been struggling with writers block lately but I'll keep trying to get myself back on track.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and don't forget to vote and/or comment to let me know what you thought.

Also let me know if you'd like me to keep doing these little authors notes after each chapter or every few chapters.

Have a good day :)