The Other Side of the Door

Chapter 6

I didn't come out of my room for what felt like weeks. The servants, or... er... objects, came and visited me every once in a while, but Hortense was my only real companion.

I tried to write my father and Marriette. I wanted them to know I was fine, as far as comfort goes at least. I refused to tell them who my captor was. I didn't want to cause them to worry for my sake. I wanted them to forget me. I hoped that Marriette wasn't even there, and that she had gone to find a new job position, somewhere far away from my family. I wanted them to have a little closure, though, over how my life was going to be. I wasn't going home, even if it had just become my home.

Was it even home?

Some say that home is where the heart is, but my heart wasn't exactly in that little cottage I had just moved into. Where was my heart, though? Was it in my childhood house, the manor? Could it have been with Mr. Whitmore, who I turned down with every fiber of my being?

Was my home this enchanted castle with a monster of a prince?

I had been told since I was little that home was a happy place, where dreams come true, and everyone you love is with you. So if my home was this dark, cold castle, where was my papa?

I had felt a slight anger towards my papa when he had made us move homes, but I wished so hard that I could go back and not complain. I wouldn't have thrown a hissy- fit, I would have shown more appreciation for my papa, and I would have told Marriette thank you, for once in my life.

I tried to convince the clock to send the letter out in a carriage, but he wouldn't do it.

"I wouldn't like to lose my life over a letter, sorry," he had told me before storming out of my room.

The few visits I had by servants mainly consisted of food and an occasional comment about how I need to come see some other part of the castle. Not even the thought of the library cheered me up.

I was deep in thought, which was all I ever seemed to do anymore, when there was a loud knock on the door.

"Mademoiselle, you must come down to dinner," a voice said, demanding in every sense of the word.

"I would rather starve," I spat out. We carried on arguing through the door, as I refused to answer it for such a beast.

"I don't wish to be responsible for your death," he replied, almost sounding whiny.

"Then let me go home."

"You're here as prisoner. What makes you think I would simply let you go?" he sassed.

"I was mostly hoping," I replied.

I heard a sigh come from the other side of the door. "If I send it to your room, would you eat it?"

"Yes."

"It will be there as soon as possible," he grumbled, and I heard his large footsteps retreating.

I almost felt bad about being so obstinent. I mean, he did almost sound genuine about not wanting me to die. Almost being key.

I always remembered that I was being held captive by an actual monster from the deepest parts of my nightmares, though, and that got me to stop my almost sorrow.

Within minutes my food arrived at the door, accompanied by the teapot and many teacups.

"How are you feeling, Mademoiselle?" the teapot asked.

"Do you really want an answer?" I replied, feeling bad as soon as I said it. I just couldn't hold my tongue sometimes.

"Yes. I worry for you," she replied.