You're So Fragile

Chapter 8

     Daylight shines through an opening from the curtains. It's more of a gray daylight so it is obvious that today is a cloudy day. I finally get out of bed after about half an hour of contemplating whether I should get up or just sleep all day. I head to the mirror on the dresser and fix my hair. My eyes are a bit red and puffy from crying last night. It took everything in me not to scream in frustration and anger. I feel hopeless, like there is nothing I can do to get away. I hear footsteps and sit back down on the bed. The door unlocks and he comes with some bags.

     "Hey, here's your stuff. Your shoes are in this bag and clothes are in this one." He drops two bags beside me and I immediately grab a pair of shoes from one bag and a sweater from the other. He watches me put them on with great interest. "Come on, let's go downstairs and get some breakfast." I nod okay and take his hand to chaperone me downstairs.

     The kitchen smells like coffee. I was smart to put a sweater on because it's freezing. "So what would you like?" He asks. I point at the coffee and he grabs two black mugs from a cabinet and pours. "There's creamer in the fridge if you want some." I nod no and grab my cup. I stare into it and watch the steam rise so that I don't have to look at him. I'm so concentrated on staring that I don't even look up at him when I hear him fumbling through the kitchen.

     "Here, have a granola bar." He suggests. I glance at the granola bar and go back to watching the steam rise on my coffee. He notices that I don't touch it. "You have to eat something Grace." After a minute, I grab the granola bar and take a bite into it. I hurry up and finish my coffee so that hopefully he takes me back to the room. When he sees that I've finished he says:

     "I want to give you a tour of the house.. Is that okay with you?" I nod yes and he takes my hand.

     We walk out of the kitchen and head towards the living room. From the living room, we walk down a hall that has doors to a bathroom, the basement, and a small room for laundry. Then he shows me a room towards the back of the house that's full of boxes. He told me it was the playroom when he was growing up. There's also a parlor that looks like it hasn't been in a long time.

     After showing me around the first floor, we head upstairs. We make a left instead of a right- the way towards the room I'm staying in. There is a guest bedroom and bathroom along with a study on this side of the second floor. Towards the right side, there's his bedroom, his parents old bedroom(the master bedroom),  "my" bedroom, and an empty, unused room. This side also has its own bathroom, along with the ones inside the master bedroom and, of course, mine.

     This house is huge, if you can even call it a house. It's more like a manor. I'm still curious as to how he lives here but I haven't had the courage to ask him yet. After the tour, he asks, "So is there anything you'd like to do?"

     I nod no and he keeps going, "Well do you want to watch TV or something? I mean, I'm sure there's something we can do to pass the time?"

     "Actually-" I hesitantly interrupt, "I'm still pretty exhausted so I.. Just want to sleep."

     "Oh", he says, rather disappointed, "yeah that's fine. I still have some unpacking to do anyway. I'll, umm, come back for you when lunch is ready." I nod okay and he locks me back in my "dungeon". I lie down and do the only thing I can do- think. Maybe I should have stayed with him. Maybe he'd trust me if I did. What am I supposed to do? What is anyone in this situation supposed to do? Advice would be essential for this particular instance. Yet again, I've never really had any type of guidance.

     My mother wasn't exactly an affectionate person. I don't think she wanted to be a mother but I guess my father and everyone else was against abortion. After my father left, she was stuck with the child she never wanted. On top of that, I looked similar to the only man she had ever loved, and to the Man who abandoned her. She never treated me like crap or anything. She fed me, clothed me, and sheltered me, but only because she had to. She was distant and solemn. Most days, she'd be so depressed that she couldn't get out of bed and I'd have to take care of myself.