Trapped in Paradise

Chapter Six

Grace doesn't speak again for the rest of the meal, but she feels the way that Sir watches her. She can't find the appetite to eat beyond one half of a sandwich, and she drinks as much water as her body can handle. Butler reappears every time her glass has been drained and refills it quickly.

At the perceived end of the meal, by which point Sir has moved the napkin on his lap to the table, Butler stands by Grace's side, looking to Sir for instructions on how to proceed.

"Show her the compound, Butler, and then introduce her to the staff. Grace, your books will be with you within a few hours. In the meantime, take the time to become acquainted with my staff and your new home."

Grace isn't sure why she doesn't spit out an insult or argue with him. Maybe it was the food, or the sheer magnitude of her confusion, but she simply walks out of the room, following Butler without a word of protest.

"You behaved well," Butler notes. "I dare say you may just survive your time here."

"Survive? As in, if I do something he doesn't like, he will have me killed?"

Butler doesn't say anything, which speaks volumes on its own. Grace shivers, a sudden coldness taking over her suddenly. This is far more dangerous than she had initially thought.

"Let's not spend too much time worrying about such things," Butler advises. "I have a tour to run, and a dozen other jobs to do today. We don't have time to worry."

With a great amount of reluctance, Grace decides to completely ignore the fact that she may die here. She's not sure why this is even a surprise. She's been kidnapped, not adopted. There's no reason that there should be anything less than such a threat hanging over her head. In fact, would it not make the entire situation significantly more strange is she were, in fact, guaranteed her life upon an attempt at escape?

She's watched the news far too many times for her to thinks so naively.

"Here we have the library," Butler says, showing her inside the large room lined with books.

It's almost too much like the scene in The Beauty and the Beast, except she's not being shown hoards of books by the kidnapper, but instead the man's help. It's some kind of cop-out, and Grace isn't sure why she's focusing so hard on that fact. She thinks she may be doing her best to liken this entire scenario to something familiar, though she's not sure why.

"Here we have the pool area."

The pool area is beautiful. There is a miniature waterfall, and several pairs of lounge chairs with umbrellas. In the pool, at the top end, there is a fully-stocked swim-up bar and along the pool wall, beneath the water, there are lights that change colour every few seconds. In the shrubbery that lines the pool area, there are more lights, and Grace is already imagining what the place looks like once night has fallen.

"Come along, now. So much more to see, so little time to indulge."

Grace follows the man around quietly, trying not to betray any interest in what she's seeing. There are seemingly hundreds of rooms, and each are as interesting as the next. The man has a room for every conceivable hobby one could bother trying. There's an art studio, a dark room, a game room, a home cinema, and the stuff outside is equally as plentiful in options.

He has a basketball court that transforms into a badminton court at the press of a button, a silver and gold chess set on a patio that looks out over a pond, a fountain with jets that reach over ten feet high, trees, and flowers, and vegetable gardens.

She could never be bored, no matter how long she stays here for.

Hateful as she may feel about being here, she can't seem to even make herself internally call it horrible. The place is beautiful. Even with the wall that stretches around the entire property, several feet high and not ashamed of its purpose, there's a stunning openness about it that makes it easier to breathe.

"Now that you've seen the entirety of the grounds, let's introduce you to the staff."

Butler leads her back inside, and as they head towards the kitchens, Grace notices a large heavy oak door.

"What's that?" she dares to ask, pointing. "We haven't been in there."

"And we never will. That room is off limits."

"Of course, it is," she mutters.

There's always a temptation somewhere, no matter the situation. Always something that wants to lead her into trouble. In first grade, it was the famed closet of test answers, in second grade the cookie stash in her parent's bedroom, in her first year living in the group home it was the filing cabinet with every occupants details. She never could resist the urge, and she never failed to get into trouble as a result. Every now and then, she would be faced with a moral question of whether doing something she knew not to do was worth the satisfaction of easing her curiosity. She's still not sure what the answer to that question is.

"If you are discovered to have gone in that room, I am unable to say what would await you as a result."

Stupidly, that makes her want to try even more. It's not a surprise, but she's a little angry at herself for being so daring and needing something to look forward to, even if it is something that will undoubtedly get her in trouble later on.

As they walk past the room, she promises herself that soon she will see what is inside, what the door could possibly be hiding that could get her into so much trouble.

Butler leads her into the large kitchen where two dozen people are milling around. Some are working over stoves, while others are stood in groups simply talking. The room is a bustle of noise and activity when they walk in and it instantly turns to an awkward silence that only has the sounds of simmering to override it. The discomfort burrows into her skin without a second to prepare.

Everyone turns to face Grace, and she unconsciously shrinks back, not sure what to do under their collective and undiluted attention. Grace attempts to analyse the expressions being turned her way, and the best she can assume is that there's resentment and sympathy in equal measure from almost every face there.

Butler introduces her to everyone, calling names and earning raised hands in response, but Grace is not paying much attention. She's too busy trying to understand whether these people are working for Sir voluntarily or under the threat of their lives.

"You'll see everyone around, of course. On Sunday, most of the staff have a day off, and while all are permitted to return home, most prefer to spend their time in the staff residence. You're free to roam any part of the property, including there, so if you so wish, you are able to socialize. However, any attempts to encourage them to help you escape would result in punishment for yourself and the person who have chosen to defile."

So, not hostages then. So, why would there be any resentment at all?

Grace nods her response, not sure what she's supposed to say, if there is anything at all that she can say. It sounds oppressive, more so than the rest, because she would not be the only person suffering from her actions.

Butler walks back out of the kitchen and Grace follows along. He has nothing new to show her, and once they're in the lobby again, Butler stops walking and turns to face her.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Why am I here?"

Butler smiles, but it's sad and Grace knows that she's not about to receive a response, or at least one that appeases her.

"It is not for me to say, miss."