Under My Skin

Chapter 15

I awoke in my bed hours or maybe days later. I had a bandage wrapped around my abdomen. I was alive. At that moment, I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Marlena tended to my every need while I was bedridden. I wasn't allowed to walk any further than the bathroom for twenty-one days.

Once that passed, Niccolò changed my freedoms in the estate. My daily routine consisted of eating and returning to my room. I wasn't allowed to venture anywhere else. However, Marlena snuck me outside on occasion. I played along with every fantasy Niccolò laid out before me. Making him angry was my newest and most prominent fear. With that in mind, I figured being alive was a good thing.

All my social interactions consisted of listening to Niccolò and bonding with Marlena. I grew to trust Marlena through all the small acts she committed to helping me. She knew that she'd get hurt for even the tiniest of deeds, but she did them anyway. This morning she woke me with nervousness written on her face.

"Did something happen?" I asked after sitting up as she sat on the edge of my bed.

Marlena reached into her bra and pulled out a note. 

"Don't ask how I got this. It's better that way."

I opened it to see:

2:27 am

Third window on the west wall.

- MCF

"MCF?" I muttered. Marlena was about to explain something as I said, "Mr. Control Freak."

"So, you know?" Marlena checked. I nodded. She snatched the note and buried it in the ashes of the fireplace. "It'll burn tonight when I light it."

She looked back to see if I was okay. I traced the four scars on my right palm with the thumb of my other hand. How I looked at those scars changed. Instead of hate, they conveyed hope.

I met her gaze, "He wants me to jump out a window? We're on the third floor."

"If your will to escape is strong enough," Marlena justified the means to the end.

"I'm not leaving without you," I stood up from the bed and demanded. Marlena shook her head.

"I can cover your escape. I was born into this life." Marlena explained. However, I felt like Niccolò scared her to the point that she was terrified he'd hunt her down. I get it.

"You don't have to stay in this life," I added.

Marlena shook her head again and changed the subject. She pulled out my clothes for the day as she said, "The tailor for your wedding dress is arriving on the property at half past noon."

Before I knew it, I finished breakfast with Niccolò, and Marlena knocked on my door to take me into the living room for my appointment.

A little old Italian lady greeted me before propping me up on a footstool and taking measurements. Niccolò entered the room when the tailor began pulling fabrics out. He made every decision for me. Niccolò picked every fabric, every stylistic choice, and every rhinestone and pearl.

I was a doll, and he was playing dress-up.

As I stood on a pedestal for hours, Niccolò deemed fabrics and designs worthy or unworthy. The old lady tried her best to keep up with his unreasonable demands. I feared that he'd have her killed if the dress did not match his every wish.

When it all came to an end, and a design was chosen, the old lady left the estate to continue her work in her studio. I walked with Marlena through the halls to return to my room. When I turned down the hall, I saw Niccolò waiting outside my room.