Can't Escape 3

Six

As she turned away from the mirror, the image of her bruised reflection still haunting her, she walked back into the bedroom. The notebook lay on the bed, open to the list of rules he had meticulously written. The pages, once crisp and clean, were now creased and smudged, each line a stark reminder of her confinement.

She picked it up, her hands shaking as she began to read through them again. The words seemed to blur together as tears welled in her eyes. Each line was a chain, binding her more tightly to a life she had never envisioned.

**Rule 1: Dinner must be served at 7 PM sharp.**

She thought of the countless evenings she had spent meticulously preparing meals, only to see the dissatisfaction in his eyes if something wasn't perfect. The stress of trying to meet his impossible standards weighed heavily on her, each meal a test she often failed.

**Rule 2: The house must always be spotless.**

She recalled the times she had scrubbed floors and dusted surfaces, her fingers raw and aching. He would inspect every corner, his eyes sharp, ready to find any fault. Even a speck of dust was enough to trigger his wrath, his voice booming through the house, calling her incompetent.

**Rule 3: Do not interrupt when he is speaking.**

Her thoughts drifted to the many conversations where she had tried to voice her feelings or suggest a different perspective, only to be cut off abruptly. His eyes would harden, and his voice would turn cold, making it clear that her opinions were unwanted. The rule had forced her into silence, her own voice suppressed under the weight of his dominance.

**Rule 4: Follow instructions without question.**

Every attempt to understand or challenge his demands had been met with a harsh rebuke. She had learned quickly that any form of dissent was unacceptable, his authority over her absolute. Each rule reinforced her subjugation, stripping away her autonomy.

As she read, the memory of his voice lingered, stern and unforgiving. "It's for your own good," he would say, as if each rule was a benevolent gift rather than a tool of control. The hollow reassurance felt like a cruel mockery of the love and care she had once hoped for.

Her mind drifted back to the previous night, replaying the events that had led to her current state. His anger had been palpable, a storm that had swept through their home, leaving destruction in its wake. She remembered the cold, calculating look in his eyes as he had picked up the knife, his rage transforming into something far more dangerous.

The pain from the stab wound was still fresh, a throbbing reminder of his capacity for cruelty. As she touched her shoulder, wincing at the tenderness, she wondered how much longer she could endure this cycle of fear and abuse.

The notebook slipped from her fingers, falling to the floor with a dull thud. She felt a wave of nausea, the weight of her hopelessness almost too much to bear. The walls of the house seemed to close in on her, a prison she had once thought would be a home.

The bell from the main door startled her. Her heart raced as she wiped her tears, instinctively checking her appearance in the mirror to make sure no trace of her turmoil was visible. It was too early for Taehyung to be back. Maybe it was a neighbor, or someone from town.

She hesitated, her mind racing through the possibilities. Should she ignore it? But what if it was someone who could help, someone who might notice something was wrong? The thought of revealing her pain to the outside world filled her with both hope and dread.

Gathering what little strength she had, she made her way to the door. Each step felt heavy, her legs trembling beneath her. She opened it a crack, peering out cautiously.

It was one of the Taehyung's men, holding a small package. "Mam, this is for you," he said, giving her a polite smile. His eyes flickered briefly over her face, and she saw a flicker of concern, but he said nothing. He had no choice to.

"Thank you," she managed to whisper, taking the package with shaking hands. She closed the door quickly, her heart pounding. The brief interaction had been enough to remind her of the world outside her prison, a world that seemed increasingly distant and unreachable.

Back in the bedroom, she sat on the bed, the package resting in her lap. It was sent by Taehyung to her. Her fingers fumbled with the wrapping, curiosity mingling with fear. Inside was another small box and a note.

She unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting.

"Get ready for tonight. - Taehyung ."

She stared at the words, curiosity welling up within her again. It was a different approach from him, he barely took her with him at gatherings, but reading the note out loud along with glances towards the dress that was beautifully placed inside the box, things felt weirdly abnormal.

She stood taking a hold of the dress, standing infront of the mirror she placed it over her silhouette, checking the places that would be seen, the bruises she was meant to hide. With a deep breath, she walked towards the bedroom placing it down carefully at the bed, soon starting up with her chores.

~*~

She nervously played with the bracelet around her hands  waiting for Taehyung to get down, attending parties wasn't something normal for her despite the fact being the mayors wife. She wasn't displayed around like other would do. Thoughts after thoughts hit her hard, as she wandered about every possibilities.

But a hope flickered around her head the very second, maybe she was going to meet her parents who had grown distanced to her.

To be continued.
Next chapter tomorrow.
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