Shattered

Chapter 14

For the next week, I was locked in the room while Chandler was working, only allowed out when Stella gave me food. Both of us didn't dare to disobey his strict rules of keeping me in the bedroom. As much as I hated it, I didn't want to risk it. The bruises on my stomach were just starting to go down, there's no need to add more.

Keeping track of the days through Stella, not wanting to ask Chandler, it was Saturday. My day consisted of skimming back and forth through books, finding none alluring enough to dedicate reading time.

To me, the bedroom was far too big, no cozy feeling anywhere in it. Everything was so monotone, white, gray, and wooden, it gave me a headache. More than anything, I craved the warmth of the sun, the bite of the December air on my skin, wind pushing through my hair, the touch of grass. The sheer glass surrounding my cage was torture, and a part of me felt like Chandler knew it was. Taunting me into submission? It didn't seem impossible.

For roughly an hour, Chandler had gone throughout the apartment, not once coming into the bedroom. Ordinarily, he would march into here first thing after arriving from work, at least for the past week. The only source of this knowledge I had was from pressing my ear to the door, listening for any bits of conversation I could pick up between him and Stella. After several minutes, I gave up, returning to my exciting prison.

Despite lazing around all day, I still found myself showering every night out of habit, even if I was as clean as everything in this room. Standing under the steamy downpour of the shower was the only time I found my head entirely clear, able to drift away and enjoy the empty bliss of freedom, unlike my body.

Undeniably, I was Chandler's pet, locked away for his own selfish reasons. When I think about it, he never admitted to the unknown reason of my capture, or why he keeps me locked up in this beautiful cage.

Perhaps if I had the courage and optimism, I would question him firmly and demand a reasonable answer, as if there is one. However, when you're put into my position; overpowered, fragile, alone, you're given two choices, either submit or fight like hell for your exemption. Confused in every possible way, I stayed afloat right between those. Sometimes wanting to give up, but also wanting to push forward and remain resilient.

The last memory present in my head was allowing the hot water to encapsulate my body, but now I found myself standing in the middle of the bedroom, Stella pulling new sheets over the bed. She glanced over as I stared, in a daze. "Did you snap out of it yet?" Dusting her hands on her black pants, her voice hoarse, as if she had been screaming or crying.

Stella abruptly stepped forward, staring at me with equal intensity. The light brown hair she donned was pulled back into a low ponytail, the edges messed from a day's work. Nose and cheeks pink as her lips, it gave the appearance of sickness or cold, but my guess was sniffles and tears. Yet her eyes gave off little support to that conclusion. Bright green as an emerald, little emotion traced beneath. She seemed mellow, but something had surely occurred earlier.

A touch to the cheek pulled me back into reality. "You don't look too well." What a nonchalant statement considering the amount of emotion in her features. Something was wrong. "I could say the same to you." Stella glanced away guiltily, keeping her gaze on the annoyingly perfect wooden floor. "What's the matter?" Laying a soft hand on her shoulder, the sudden flinch back caught me off guard. "It's nothing, I have work to get back to." She pulled away, quickly pacing to the bed. "Stella, you can tell me, I won't-"

"Leave it alone, Jess, not everyone wants to talk through their issues. Chandler asked me to send you to his office, I wouldn't keep him waiting." There was no allowance for my input, she shut me down immediately. The coldness I was receiving from her seemed rash and uncalled for, with hopefully a good reason behind it.