Redemancy

4.

For those of you planning to read Great Expectations and don't want any spoilers, there is some talk about the book so look out for that <3

Amara

The next day, I wake up and think about all the things that happened and were said last night, these people are crazy.

Yeah, right. As if I'm not going home. If I could walk, I already would've been home. But some stupid frog had to shoot me in the leg.

I actually like frogs, but I don't want to say a mean word and a frog was the first thing that came to my mind that didn't sound stupid. A frog probably sounds stupid as well though.

They can't just keep me here though, right? I think it's against the law to keep someone in your house who you aren't a legal guardian or something.

So, it's like kidnapping. Oh my god, I'm being kidnapped. They are nuts if they think they can keep me inside here.

They can't keep me here, I'm not gonna be rapunzel for the rest of my life, locked up with no escape.

Xerxes brought me up the stairs along with Lucifer, carrying me in the wheelchair seeing as I'm not allowed to walk and I literally scared to move my leg.

Wimp.

Xerxes brought me to a room, which he said was my new bedroom. He told me I could decorate it just however I liked.

The room contains white walls while the floor is a black carpet. There is a bed against one wall, just in the middle of it. There are two other doors in the room, of which one is a bathroom, and the other one happens to be a huge walk-in closet.

Holy cow! This is huge!

There is one small window in the room, which flashes enough daylight through the window. I roll over to the window in the wheelchair, trying to open it but I fail. It's on a lock.

They must've thought this through, they definitely did. I guess I have to wait to escape until I can walk because there is no way I'm getting out of here in a wheelchair.

As I open the walk-in closet, I see the entire closet is filled with clothes just like Xerxes told me. He told me they bought clothes for me to wear since I didn't have any.

I just assumed it would be a pair of jeans and a shirt, but the clothes in here must be at least a hundred outfits, probably even more.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I mean, it's obvious they're not going to let me go back to school, but what else am I supposed to do.

I see it's only ten o'clock in the morning as I leave the bathroom and let my hair dry on it's own. My hair was so greasy, I've never felt so gross and dirty before.

Still, in the walk-in closet, I look for something comfortable to wear and succeed to find it after crossing at least ten different pairs of jeans.

I pick up the sweats and tank top. I put them on, having a bit of trouble putting the sweats on but I managed.

You know what, screw this wheelchair, I can walk. I learned it's best to walk a gunshot wound out than to sit still for weeks, this activates my muscles again and speeds up the healing process.

I limp out of my bedroom down the stairs as my tummy grumbles, starving to get some food in it.

As I come down the stairs I can smell pancakes being made, I could smell that fragrance from a thousand miles.

I find my way into the kitchen and see one of the men cooking, the scent of delicious pancakes finding its way into my nose.

I hesitate whether I should say something or not, but my mouth flies open and words crawl out as I need the pancakes.