Tainted

Alethiology

Alethiology| the study of the truth
—
Ariadne

Romeo doesn't come back for hours. In that time, I explore some of the clothes and makeup that arrived today, which I had ordered on the iPad last night. The familiar act of sorting through the outfits in Romeo's closet offers a small sense of normalcy and comfort. I've always loved fashion, and even in this gilded cage, the new clothes bring a tiny spark of joy.

I try on a few outfits, taking my time with each one. The act of dressing up, even with no one to see me, feels like a quiet rebellion. I experiment with different styles, pairing pieces in new ways, finding a small sense of control in how I present myself. The mirror reflects someone who looks put-together, confident—everything I need to feel right now.

I then turn my attention to the makeup kit. It's filled with an impressive array of products. I don't apply any of it, but I take comfort in knowing it's there. Just seeing the familiar brands is a reminder of my normal life. It's a small, but comforting, connection to the person I am outside of these walls.

After a while, I decide to take a shower. The bathroom, as luxurious as the rest of the mansion, offers a brief respite. The hot water cascades over me, soothing my tense muscles and washing away some of the day's stress. I linger under the spray, letting the steam envelop me, grounding myself in the simple pleasure of the moment.

Once I'm done, I wrap myself in a plush towel and head back to the bedroom. I select a tiny white sleep gown from the new clothes. The soft fabric feels comforting against my skin, a small luxury I can still appreciate. I slip it on and move to the bed, the clean sheets offering a welcome embrace.

I curl up under the covers, trying to find a sense of calm. The room is silent, the only sound my own breathing. The opulence around me fades into the background as I focus on the small comforts I've found: the feel of the soft gown, the lingering warmth from the shower, the simple act of dressing up and looking through the makeup.

As I lie there, my mind drifts back to the events of the day. Romeo's presence, his chilling words, the constant feeling of being watched—it all weighs heavily on me. But for now, I focus on these small acts of self-care, grounding myself in the familiar and the comforting. I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and close my eyes, hoping for some rest amidst the uncertainty.

Just as I start to drift off, the door opens, and Romeo steps into the room. His presence immediately fills the space, making the air feel heavy. He glances around, his gaze finally settling on me.

"You seem comfortable," he says, his voice a mix of amusement and authority.

I pull the covers around me a bit tighter. "I was trying to pass the time," I reply, my voice steady but my heart racing.

Romeo's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of me curled up in the bed. "Pass the time, hm?" he says, his voice dripping with a dark, mocking amusement. His gaze shifts deliberately to the blanket draped over me, his eyes lingering on its soft folds as if assessing how well it suits the situation.

"I can help with that," he continues, his tone taking on a menacing edge. His words are casual, but there's an underlying threat in the way he speaks. He moves closer to the bed, his steps measured, each one echoing with a sense of authority.

He stands beside the bed, looking down at me with an expression that mixes curiosity with a cruel sort of pleasure. His fingers brush lightly against the edge of the blanket, his touch almost reverent. There's something unsettling about the way he examines the simple act of me seeking comfort, as though he's calculating how to manipulate or challenge it.

The air feels charged with tension, each second stretching out painfully as I lie there, trying to gauge his intentions. Romeo's gaze is unyielding, his presence dominating the space around me. The luxury of the room, the softness of the sheets, and the comfort of the gown all seem to dissolve in the face of his cold scrutiny.