From a glass prison to literal hell.
Fatigue washes over me like a fierce tidal wave, it's crest forcefully sweeping me off my feet and thrusting me underwater where I half-heartedly embrace sleep. Finally caving so the darkness clouds my senses in a manner akin to how the sky rapidly turns from a blinding blue to a dark gloomy grey and how the floating white pillows known as clouds grow heavy and dark with water on rainy days.
Somehow, I manage to break free from its hold hours later. Soft rays of warm golden light that'd slipped through the miniscule cracks in the drawn together curtains dance over the slightly reddened flesh of my face and arms; the feeling of grogginess doesn't leave even as I back away from the light and rub my eyes with the back of my palm, yawning.
Leisurely, I lift my upper body from the bed, my head lolling and eyes fluttering— still sleep induced, as I futilely attempt to resist the temptation to fall back into the sheets; feeling the softness of the plush surface of the bed as it sinks under the pressure of my body weight and softly caresses my back. To have the feather like duvet wrapped around me like how I'm sure my mother - just like all other mothers before her - did to shield her offspring from the evil hidden behind veils unbeknownst to their innocent minds.
I remain in that position whilst time ticks by at it's own pace until the muscles at the back of my neck slowly but surely begin to ache, in need of slight relief. Therefore I lift my head and begrudgingly blink my eyelids open, staring into nothingness as the sickening memories of what transpired merely hours earlier plays in my head like a broken record.
I want to throw a tantrum; to roll in the messed up sheets like a mad woman and scream to the heavens above. I want to yank at my tangled disarray of fiery locks, to feel a tinge of pain spike on my scalp, the burn of the hardened earth underneath my aching knees till I bruise and dried tears stuck to my ruddy cheeks while I curse loudly the day I was born.
Instead I push back the tiny silvery droplets threatening to fall and taint the pristine sheets. I would find my concerns amusing for I have already lain in them and stained its plain white canvas with the dirt stuck to my flesh as I have yet to take a bath.
The room bears a musky odour. If perhaps to give its dweller a false sense of safety and comfortability; the gnarly claws which lightly preform a choreographed dance meant to evoke a feeling of fear over the fair expanse of my goosebump ridden skin prevent it from easing me in the slightest.
Aside from natural luminance, it is lit dimly by two tall lamps which stand by either corners of the door, the lampshade is a milky white and decorated with swirling undulating patterns of gold. Its once shiny lustre all but lost and hidden behind a thin coat of dust.
The color scheme of this room gives it a soft, tranquil vibe; a simple cream with an occasional heathered shade of lilac thrown into the mix as seen in the case of the upholstered stool tucked into the vanity table and the bedcover.
This room is my cage for the time being.
The air feels heavy as I inhale and exhale a heated breath... suffocating.
The ticking sound of a grandfather clock hanging off one of the four adjourning walls resonates in the distance, the singular notes furthermore increasing my ever rising anxiety.
A bath, I think suddenly as a familiar itch begins to bloom at my upper arms, I need a warm bath.
My eyes do a clean sweep of the bedroom; jumping off various objects until it settles firmly on a door which I can only assume is concealing the bathroom from view... I hope.
With that somewhat distracting task in mind, I rise from the bed – vaguely aware of the temporary imprint of my ass cheeks left on its surface. Reluctantly, I leave behind the tempting warmth of the bed as I weave my way towards the mahogany door to my left.
The silver metallic handle shows signs of rust and is cold when my fingers wrap around it, the chill digging into my palm as I push the door open. My eyes are immediately greeted with a sizable bathroom space bordered by spotless white marble tiles which glimmer underneath my feet and are laid on the walls all the way up to the ceiling.
I wander inside, lips parting to form a small 'O' as I let my fingers slip from the rough edges of the door, it shuts behind me. The space is barely minimal in width but lengthwise considered okay in my opinion.
A trimmed and tasseled privacy curtain tied back by one side is held by the aid of ceiling hooks to a slanted wall, the intricately designed white lace material provides a sort of coverage for when taking a bath if one wishes it to. The bathtub is big enough to fit two bodies inside with a tap head made with gold painted steel. There is a toilet to the corner, a couple of steps away from the large tub.
I kneel beside the tub, knees grazing the floor as I work the mechanics of the tub, the first spurt of water to eruot from the tap is cold when I dip a finger and curse. I try again, grinning when warm spurts begin to fill the tub. There is a white shelf leaning against the wall beside the tub, I reach over and pick what looks like an unused sponge and a bath bomb and discarding in a bin.
I hurriedly slide off the smelly t-shirt, a gust of cold air nipping at my breasts and brushing against my thighs and arms causing the hairs on my body to stand erect. Lifting my legs, I step into the water and a strangled moan tumbles out my mouth as I sink in, flinching when my shoulders meet the cold surface of the tub.
The water licks my skin, its heat caressing every inch of me and soothing my wounds. Gripping the foamy sponge tightly, I scrub my body, working it over every inch of me in an attempt to rid myself of every ounce of filth till I'm red and left neater than a babe. Each stroke is harsher than the last when the sponge bloated with water and soap sods meet my skin, the color of the water changes– no longer as transparent.
When I'm done, I drain out the water but I'm not ready to exit the relaxing bath, so I twist the head of the tap and wait patiently while the tub is filled again. Sniffling softly, I sit up and pull my legs up to my chest, wrap my arms around them and use my knees a makeshift pillow where I lay my head.
It's been years since I last enjoyed the luxury of laying in a pool of water, since I've had to change my lifestyle as well as myself inside and out, years since I last saw any member of my family (not that I wish to anytime soon).
He loathed when I spent way too much time in the bath as a means to avoid my responsibilities, "it is unladylike and an act only individuals with no class indulge in," he'd spat in my face one time in a fit of rage. Fucking cunt, he better be rolling in his grave right now.
A larger part of me wishes to savour this feeling, it most certainly is not the freedom I hoped for two years ago but if I'm rotting away the rest of my mortal life in a cell somewhere in the burning depths of hell... then I intend to enjoy my remaining days however little I can.
My hair tumbles down before my eyes, the red appearing to be a darker shade from it being wet. When the water turns cold and my skin begins to prune and fingers turn ghastly pale, my chest deflates knowing I'll have to leave the slightly comforting room.
The surface of the water ripples as I rise to my feet and exit the tub, a rug cushions my feet, crystal droplets dripping onto and being absorbed by the fluffy surface. I wrap a towel around my body.
Passing by a mirror, a grimace sneakily making its way onto my face once I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror; auburn hair in utter disarray, bags underneath my eyes showing exhaustion and a fluffy baby blue towel which is tucked under my armpit.
The first thing I notice when I exit the bathroom, the door clicking behind me, is a pale yellow gown laying on the now neatly made bed. I glance at the door, seeing it is locked in place and the crease between my brows deepens. Then I remember him saying something about maids and I relax and pick up the delicate fabric.
Something drops to my feet when I unfold the gown, a flush crawling from my neck all the way up to my cheeks at the sight of a black bra and matching cotton panties. Shaking my head, I quickly put on the attire; the bra is a size bigger than what I usually wear but the dress suits alright and falls past my ankles, sweeping across the floor.
I spend the rest of my time in front of the vanity; parting and combing my unruly mass of curls and braiding it haphazardly so it doesn't fly in my face when the wind blows, mumbling incoherent wordings under my breath over the mess I find myself in, cursing like a sailor to stop tears from spilling over.
As much as my ego bruises to even admit the fact, I know there's no possible way out of here... not unless they let me go that is. I highly doubt they will and the truth I desperately try to waver brings a fresh set of tears to my face.
Resting my chin on my hand and observing the sullen faced girl who stares unwaveringly back at me in the mirror; her once vibrant green eyes mirroring mine are now tired and red rimmed, an endless maze of pain and suffering. Lips in a permanent scowl, she forces the edges to curl upwards yet the smile looks forced... bitter.
My scowl returns as my thoughts run amuck, and the girl in the reflection's expression mirrors mine.
I force my eyes away from the disturbing image and move to my feet, finally deciding to pay attention to the monster growling in my stomach.
My surprise is pretty evident when the door; contrary to what I expected, opens and the aged wood creaks in protest. Peaking my head from a small space, I survey the broad hallway, finding it empty.
My teeth digs into my bottom lip –contemplating– and holds it's place on the soft, cracked flesh so blood rushes there and it turns it pale rose color.
The instant my bare feet cross the boundary and meets the chilly tiled floor of the hallway, a woman sudden appears within my line of vision with familiar dark fog vaporizing into thin air around her.
The lady is draped in a fine white button up shirt and a pair of dark loose trousers which are folded at the ankles. Black inked markings decorate the entirety of her silky caramel skin, her hair is shaved off so only short, wispy brown strands remain. Hands and feet adorned with an assortment of silver bangles which peek from underneath the partly stained fabric she proudly wears. However, it's her eyes that manage to captivate and trap me under a spell; rather than the usual known colorations, a murky white bleeds into her irises.
Her lips part like the blossoming petals of a lower and her voice drifts into my ears smooth as silk, enchanting as a siren's call to drunken sailors and my feet move before I register the action, trailing not far behind her.
Hips swaying with each stride, she leads me through the hall and down a spiral of stairs.
It's as though my mind is blank and while my subconscious yells at me to stop, my body and brain don't register the warning, blindly trailing after the mysterious lady. Imaginary slithery vines climb up my arms and tightening around my chest so my breathing constricts and escapes heavy.
In a daze, she finally comes to a stop before the same dinning table where I was served. As she pulls out the chair at the head of the table and gestures for me to sit (not that it's a request I'm physically able to decline anyways as she makes me plop into the chair against my will), there's an amused shit eating grin playing across her full brown lips.
She pivots on her heels to the opposite end of the table and sits, relaxing in the chair and crossing her arms.
"בוקר טוב יופי שינה."
[Good morning sleeping beauty.]