Chapter 3 - A Rough Awakening

Aria

A soft knock wakes me from my sleep.

Bolting up from the bed, I take a look around, trying to remember where I am. Oh! Trapped.

“Who’s there?” I answer groggily. All thanks to someone, I didn’t get enough sleep.

I know it’s not Damon. Grumpy isn't that courteous.

“Come in.”

A petite and pretty lady comes in with her head bowed. She looks very young. Maybe a few years younger than I am. She stalks towards the table in the room and drops a bag on it.

“Good morning, miss. Master Damon asked me to drop this off for you,” she said in a soft voice.

“Oh, thank you.” I smile warmly at her. Her head remains bowed.

“Not a problem, miss,” she turns to leave.

I stand up from the bed and take a proper look at the room I’ve been in since yesterday. It’s beautiful. It turns out that there’s a curtain covering a window. I wonder why I didn’t see that yesterday. But then, I never really looked around.

I walk towards the curtains and open them wide.

“Oh my God!” I gasp. It’s a floor-to-ceiling window. I can see a garden from here. Flowers of different colours adorn it, making it look like a fairy tale land. Who’d have thought that the devil is a flower princess?

The door slams open and startles me out of my reverie. I don’t need to turn back to know who it is.

“Why aren't you dressed?” Damon asks, his stupidly deep voice grating on my nerves.

“Damon, ever heard of knocking?” I asked while turning to glare at him.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Damon utters dryly, like I didn’t just call him out on not knocking.

Rude bastard.

“What? Were you hoping to catch me naked?” I ask sweetly, mischief coating my voice.

He stares at me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Get dressed and come out for breakfast. We don’t have all day,” he says dryly and shuts the door behind him, leaving me with my jaw on the floor.

I’m just glad I’ll soon leave this hellhole.

I walk over to the table and grab my dress from the garment bag. It's a pretty green sundress with flowers on it.

There’s no time to admire the cloth. Getting ready is at the top of the list right now.

The bathroom is so huge. I look around in awe at the size and beauty of it. It’s definitely bigger than some apartments in New York. The beauty doesn’t matter to me at the moment because time is not on my side.

The bathroom counter was filled with female supplies. Shampoo, conditioner, shower gel... You name it. This must be where he brings his conquests. I squeeze my nose in disgust at the thought of that.

I snag the shower gel off the counter, turn the shower on, and adjust the temperature. The water cascades down my body as I wash my hair and my body and rinse off.

I get out of the bathroom and start drying off when I hear another knock on my door. Does this man know anything about patience? I think to myself with my eyes in a roll.

“Come in,” I say to the person at the door.

The same maid who dropped off my clothes steps inside.

“Master said I should bring you to the dining room when you're done,” she says quietly, her head facing the floor.

“Sure,” I smile at her, “Could you wait outside while I get dressed?”

“Yes, Miss,” she turns to leave the room.

I quickly pick up the cloth and pull it over my head. When I realise that I have no underwear to change into, my hands freeze in the air with my clothes halfway down my body.

I rummage through the bag, hoping to find some underwear. Luckily, they were there, which comes as a relief and an embarrassment.

I quickly get changed and follow the maid to the dining room to see Damon sitting at the edge of the table like the king of the place. Well, he is the king of the place. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

He pins me with a death glare and says, “You are 35 minutes late. I told you we don’t have all day!”

I don’t give him any response, sitting at the other end of the table. The sight of the feast laid out in front of me makes my stomach grumble. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until now.

I begin heaping food on my plate, taking a bite and moaning at the deliciousness of the food. It was gone in no time.

“Are you going to dig a hole into my face, or can we go now?” I finally asked him after ignoring his presence since I got down here.

He gives no response and stands up to leave the room. I stand up to run after him to keep up with his pace. The silence is awkward, but it doesn't matter to me. Talking to him right now is not on my bucket list.

A car is already waiting in front of the mansion when we step out. I see another car behind ours, and I recognise it as the bodyguards’ car. He just goes to the other side of the car and gets in, leaving me outside the car.

“Are you getting in or what?” I hear his voice tinged with irritation from the car.

“Oh, please,” I mutter to myself and open the car door to enter.

“Tell the driver where we're going,” he grumbles at me.

Rolling my eyes, I face the driver, “34, West 72nd Street, please,” I say and lean back in my seat to look out the window.

The tension in the car can be cut with a knife. He’s glued to his phone, typing away at God knows what. I just rest my head on the window, watching shops and people pass by.

“We’re here, sir, “ the driver said, snapping me out of my zone. We are really in front of the house.

“Stay here; I’ll bring out the documents,” I say while getting out of the car.

“There will be someone right behind you,” he says without looking up.

I roll my eyes and get out of the car. Mr Bulky from yesterday is the one following me.

I get to the front door and press the bell, waiting eagerly to see Mum or Dad answer the door. They must have been worried sick.

Except, none of them do.

“Who’s –” A lady I definitely don’t know looks up at me, and her eyes widen in surprise, “Oh, it’s you! Hi! Did you forget something here?”

What? Forget something? This is my house! Please, let it not be what I’m thinking, I desperately pray.

It’s what I’m thinking.

“My husband loves the art frame you decided to sell with the house, by the way; thank you,” she beams at me; waiting for me to say something.

Ava sold the house. They moved from the house already. I can feel the floor giving away at my feet. I grab onto the wall to keep myself from collapsing.

The new owner probably finds me weird, because she just shuts the door at my face.

My freedom just blew up in my face. I’m going to jail.

I shake my head vigorously. I can’t go to jail. There’s no way in hell I’m suffering for Ava’s sins. There has to be a way out of this. I have to escape!

I do the only thing that comes to my mind: I run.