Dominique: Her Tale of Fate

|| Thirteen

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“Dom?”

She heard her name being called off in the distance. She peeled her eyes open, slowly to adjust to the brightness of the room. She looked forward and was met with a purple painted wall, and a flat screen television standing in between her and the wall.

Her eyes lazily danced around and she noticed that she was in a strange room, this wasn’t anywhere she was familiar with, and so, she jumped to a sitting position.

However a striking pain ran through her temples, and she grunted out in pain. This pain seemed to ripple through her body, as she could not feel her legs.

She looked at her body, and saw she was wearing a blue pajama, and it was very free on her body. She looked further, and noticed that her ankle was bandaged up, and placed on a pillow.

Where on earth was she in?

Slowly, memories of the incident with Andrew jigged into her mind, and she recalled how he had assaulted her, and also, how she was saved by Paul. She looked around in the room, and saw that there was a door at the left and another at the right hand side. She moved to the side of the bed, and using her hand as a ledge, she pulled herself up, making sure that she rested her weight on her other working foot.

“Paul?” She called out to the space, hoping that her guts where right and she was in her co-worker’s home, and not in a random stranger’s house.

She listened for a reply, but none came, and so, she limped towards the door closest to her and turned the door nob open.

“Shit.” She exclaimed as she met with the blue tiles of the bathroom. She sighed as her eyes wandered to the other door across the room, and she limped towards it with so much difficulty.

Upon getting to the door, she turned the knob, but at first it failed to bulge. However, on trying a second time, the door squeaked open.

Her heart was in her mouth as she peeped through the hallway; the whole house was silent, and awfully empty. It was a nicely decorated home, that was pretty much clean, and it certainly did not look like a kidnappers den.

“Paul?” She silently called out, but her voice only echoed down the hall without a reply.

She was at a crossroad on what to do? She was terrified of the thought that she was being held in another person’s home, and the fear of whatever they might do to her clogged her mind. Yet, she wanted to see if she could find her way out of the house without being noticed.

She tried to move on, and accidently placed pressure on her injured ankle. She placed a palm over her mouth and muffled down a groan.

Adjusting herself, she limped down the hall; there was a stair case headed down, and from atop, she could see a lovely decorated living room, but just like the rest of the house, it was empty. She moved to the staircase, and using the railing as support, she moved down.

“Paul?”

She called once more, but no one replied, and she was greeted with the silence. She sighed. It was hopeless; whosoever kept her here didn’t want to show their faces. This is great, as she neither wanted to see theirs. Now, all she had to do was make it to the front door, open it, and walk to her freedom.

Taking a deep breath, she summoned her strength, and limped on, heading for the double door that stood some miles from her. She got to the door, and pulled the handle slowly and silently, careful not to wake anyone up, in case they were sleeping.

The door flung open, and the outside came into her view. There was a beautiful garden out there, and the gate seemed to be made out of bamboo wood, and it didn’t appear to be locked.