He's My Beast (ON HOLD)

Fourteen

For once in my life I actually woke up on my own time, not opening my eyes until I couldn't stand the sun shining dully in my face any longer, groaning as I turned over onto my side, I expected to roll right onto my feet since my cot was so small. Instead, I just rolled onto even more plush mattress.

"What?" I murmured, voice almost nonexistent due to both over sleeping and having cried more then enough to fill a swimming pool yesterday. Sitting up, I surveyed the room while all the events of yesterday surged  back, knocking me back down into the plush throw pillows.

Honestly, I was disgusted. What kind of man beat up a slave and then takes another one prisoner, after wreaking more then enough havoc to go around, but then proceed to give said prisoner a 'more then enough' bedroom?

I swear Prince Adam was bi-polar, leaning more towards the horrid side.

Three swift knocks had me jumping out of bed, throwing the door open and looking around, only finding a list taped to the door near the door knob. The hallway was otherwise bare. With a puzzled look I grabbed the paper and shuffled back inside, lightly closing the door behind me and walking backwards until my knees hit the bed and I sat down.

It seemed like a pretty decent list, only having four, simple things written in basic for me to accomplish by tonight. Maybe they were just starting me off easy?

But did I have to do it in my gown?

I didn't like that idea, biting my lower lip and pacing around the room, opening some of the drawers in the dresser and the nightstand. Nothing.

The armoire in the corner caught my attention and drew me towards it, grabbing the small knobs and tugging. It wouldn't budge, and the dresser howled.

I echoed that.

"Sacre bleu, what do you think you're doing? That is private! You can't just go around opening peoples drawers and expect to get away with it!" the furniture shrilled, eyes that I haven't noticed before narrowing and looking down on me.

"I-I beg your pardon, good lady. I hadn't a clue you were alive too," I stammered, backing away as the quite large armoire huffed before seeming to calm down, ruffling her drawers. Oh dear, was my bed alive too? I hoped for the sake of my sanity it wasn't.

"I don't think I recognize you, young one. You must be new. I'm Madam Armoire, one of the greatest opera singers of this day and age," she started boasting, the little wooden arms at her side flying about as she spoke. "Well, used to be," she sighed, seeming to deflate.

"I'm truly sorry to disturb you, Madam Armoire, but I don't have a change of clothes. You wouldn't happen to have something, would you?" I managed to ask, observing the furniture and lightly running my hand down on of its sides, causing the drawers within it to shudder. Apparently furniture was ticklish.

"My dear, I have so many clothes. Alas, they do not fit me anymore, I've seemed to gain a few pounds. But please, go ahead," Madam Armoire told me, opening her drawers and showing me a variety of dresses, shoes, and accessories. I graciously thanked her for her hospitality, choosing stretchable, yet tight, black leggings and a rather long white,
fitted t-shirt dress, it coming down to my knees, grabbing a blue apron to drape over my clothes. I left the shoes behind, rather preferring my bare feet, and grabbed a ribbon to tie up my hair in a messy bun. I slipped out of the dress and laid it out upon the bed, honestly not sure what to do with it.

Once dressed, I stuffed the list into one of my pockets -along with Thomas's stone- and cautiously opened my door again, silently tip toeing down the hallway, following my nose to the kitchen. It held true, leaving me standing in front of a medium sized door, clattering and shouting coming from the other side of it, warmth emitting from underneath the door. Good, the stove was already hot.