| ESCAPE |

↬chapter one↫

A stubborn and stingy voice squeaked in the morning, snapping Polly out of her dreams, the only things that gave her a small ounce of joy. "Up, get up! Get dressed, quickly!"

Polly groaned almost inaudibly. She could still hear her wheezing behind the door. The last thing Polly wanted was to upset her. And, of course, she didn't want to have to spend yet another afternoon in her company.

Polly sprang up onto her bed, and wiped all the sleep from her eyes, swinging her legs around to the side of the bed. "I'm up!" Polly shouted back. She rolled over to the other side of the bed to see the time displayed on her bedside clock. 7.15am. "Although, I'm not sure why... I don't need to be ready until half past twelve?" Polly groaned. She didn't mean for it to, but it came out as a question.

She could practically hear her gasp from outside the door. "Well, you need to get showered and cleaned up for him coming over! I won't be having you meet him looking like a slob!"

Polly raised her eyebrows in defeat. She lazily rolled out of her bed, sitting on the edge and staring into space. Which he was she referring to? The next of Polly's batch of suitors who will grimace at her when she talks, then grab for her ass at any given opportunity? Or perhaps she was talking about a suitor of her own, the man who leads and protects the town, who makes her gush at his revolting practice of flirting?

"I don't hear water running!" She screeched behind the door. Polly had to hold her breath so not to scream back at her, she didn't want a repeat of last week, spending her time being taught the 'basic house skills every respectable woman must know'.

Polly quickly took off her pyjamas, and threw them into the wash-basket in the corner of her ridiculously minuscule bedroom. She walked into the tiny ensuite bathroom and adjusted the temperature and intensity of the shower head before grabbing a suitable sized towel and placing it on the towel rack. She turned the water on and waited a few moments before stepping in, allowing the water to adjust to her choice.

Once satisfied, she stepped into the shower. The water ran down her face and body and she almost sighed in relief. The shower was yet another place to allow herself to daydream. But, not for long, never on Mrs. WIlkinson's watch. 'It is never acceptable for a woman to daydream, of course that never stops you, you're very much like your mother'. She always spoke about Polly's mother as if it gave a bitter taste to her tongue.

No matter how many times Polly adjusted the shower head, it would always come out the same, overwhelmingly powerful and scorching her skin. After five minutes, she shut off the shower and got out. She wrapped the towel securely around her chest and walked into the bedroom.

She sat down at the small dressing table she was given when she was thirteen years old. Six years on, and it has decayed to the extent that it has lost its original colouring. Still, she should be thankful; 'a lady should always show appreciation for gifts she receives, no matter how big or small'.

She started with her hair. She had practiced this look so many times before, but was never able to keep it the way she wanted until today, because she practically begged Mrs. Wilkinson to cancel the hairdressers. She plaited her hair from the left side of her hair, across to the right, where it dropped past her ears. The rest of her hair at the back stayed wavy. This is the way she liked it.

She dried herself off, throwing the towel in the wash-basket, and put on her underwear and clothes. A plain, white, 3/4 length blouse and a black pencil skirt with matching black tights. Then, she dared to apply a little bit of plain black mascara on her eyes.

There was a hasty knock on the door. "Young lady, are you appropriately dressed?" A fake, screechy voice whispered. Polly chuckled. "Yes." She answered back.

Her younger brother, Max, walked in and looked her up and down. He had a look on his face that suggested he was about to chuckle. Polly glared at him, trying not to join him. "You look fabulous!" He exclaimed, sarcastically. Polly rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I bet I do. Nice suit, by the way!" She answered with the same sarcasm. Max struck a pose and they both laughed out loud. He walked towards her and wrapped his big arms around her, pulling her into a smothering, love-filled embrace. He looked at her sympathetically. Without words, they both understood what the other was thinking.

"One day, Pol. One day." Max whispered to her. Polly sighed.

"I hope so." Was all she could respond with. Max then clapped his hands excitedly and placed his hands on Polly's shoulders. "Today's the big day. Embrace it. Love it. Have as much fun as is legal. Go out there, and if he's a total," he dramatically glanced around and leaned closer to whisper, "dick...," He then stood tall and spoke in a very bad New-Yorker accent, "then forget about it!"

Polly smiled up at her brother. To call him her 'little' brother was something she struggled with, considering he was 6 ft 4 and she 5 ft 6. Plus the fact that he was only a year younger than her.

Max was the only one who she felt she could truly be herself with, who she could speak to about the unspoken. The only person who would understand exactly what she was talking about.

The door swung open in that moment and a rather glamorous-looking Mrs. Wilkinson appeared in front of them. She was wearing her most precious jewels and clothing. "Okay, you two, enough chit-chat, we need to run through the schedule!" Before walking away, she slouched and tutted at them. "Look at you! I try my best, but even that never seems to be enough!" She shook her head and swatted her hand in their direction before striding down the hall.

Polly and Max looked at each other, and both broke into fits of laughter. "She has the audacity to say we look like shit, yet she comes in here dressed to the nines?" Polly chuckles.

"Yeah, and the beads of sweat on her forehead really make her look all the more attractive." Max joined in. "Anyway, we best go downstairs before she smites us with her fur boa!"

*

After fifteen minutes of Mrs. Wilkinson running around the house, preparing herself - and Polly and Max - while explaining everyone's roles for the evening, they were pretty sure they were more than ready.

Max's job was to converse with the men and make them welcome by offering them any of the alcoholic beverages they wished, while discussing the latest news of the sporting world. Mrs. WIlkinson's job was to make adult conversation and blush at backhanded complements while ordering the service staff to hurry themselves in the kitchen.

Polly's role in this was probably the worst. Half an hour after the meal, she would take the young man out into the garden, where they will sit near the fountain and talk romance and promise each other a life of lies about love, and 'hopefully, this one may actually like you'. Then, the worst part of all, kiss him. Kiss a complete stranger who's breath will reek of alcohol and lust.

They were all given their 'positions' and, within three minutes of them waiting, their car lights flashed through the window. "Okay, that's them! Remember, Max, be your lovely, polite self, and Polly... don't. Be lovely, yes. Be polite, of course. Just don't be so... you." Polly grimaced and managed to fake a smile as a knock was heard on the door.

"Linda, get that!" Mrs. Wilkinson ordered. "And try to appear optimistic about life?" Linda also faked a smile and walked towards the door. She slowly creaked it open and stood, staring at the two men in front of her.

"Welcome," she gushed, in a daze at how attractive they were. "very... very welcome." She moved to the side as the two men entered the building.

Within five seconds of their presence, Mrs. Wilkinson was already gushing. "Hello, gentlemen! Thank you for accepting my invitation to dinner tonight."