Grace Unchained

1: An Unexpected Bath

Heart thumping in her chest like a metronome, Grace approached the ornate door and hesitated. She found herself staring at her fingertip where it hovered over the doorbell, her new manicure gleaming and perfect in the mid-morning sunlight. This was it. There was no turning back after this, not really. Even if she managed to back out, somehow, later on, she'd always have to live with the fact that she'd done it. She could never console herself with the thought that she had been tempted, but had chosen not to go through with it.

It was almost funny that she found herself thinking this in front of a closed door. All she had to do was open it to know, for certain, that she had become someone different. Someone she'd never expected to be—someone she certainly hadn't been raised to be. That she was a...she shook her head slightly, as if she could shake the thoughts off like beads of water.

Making her decision, she pushed the ivory button. A musical chime sounded within, muted through the heavy stone walls.

She wasn't overly familiar with the North Shore, and had never set foot in Beverly Farms, the treed seaside village dominated by stately homes on Massachusetts' northern coast.

Grace had never really thought about the cliché of feeling like a fish out of water, but as she stood on her new client's wide doorstep, the truth of the metaphor came crashing home.

Here she was, Grace Cavanaugh, whose family and closest friends knew her as Gracie, standing at the front door of what could rightly be called a castle, wearing several thousand dollars worth of new clothes, wobbling in a pair of heels that cost more than a month's rent. Her hair, which she normally tied back in a simple ponytail, had been cut, styled, highlighted, curled, and blown out, resulting in a stunning princess effect that she hadn't known was possible. The highlights brought out the natural chestnut color of her hair, the stylist had said, as he teased the ends into the kind of loose barrel curls that she'd only ever seen on women on TV. When he was finished it looked almost natural, but had actually taken several hours.

Then there was the makeup—minimal and refined, but equally complex—and the suit—an elegant grey skirt suit with a shell camisole the color of grass underneath. Grace liked the suit. It made her feel professional. Like a real grownup—like someone people might look up to and respect.

Her head was the only place on her body she still had hair. Every other follicle had been removed with ruthless efficiency. This made her think of the underwear she was wearing, which made her shiver. Her heart beat faster. She swallowed, chewing her lower lip and then began to panic when she realized she might have messed up the lipstick. She was seconds from turning around and leaving, going back to the long black Mercedes idling on the crushed gravel driveway and begging to be taken home.

Then the door opened, and all thought of escape vanished. She'd waited too long. Her heart caught in her throat. She tried to focus on what she was looking at.

The man who opened the door was slim, middle-aged, and balding. He wore a muted charcoal suit, tailored to perfection, with white shirt and black tie. Not what she'd expected. At least he isn't ugly, Grace thought.

"Good morning, madam," said the man. "Please come in." With that he stood aside and opened the door wider, inviting her to enter. Grace pressed her eyes shut for a second and took a deep breath, then stepped through the door. The man closed it behind her, shooting the lock with a sound of awful finality. Through the sidelights she could see the black Mercedes pulling away. Leaving her here. Alone.