He took everything from me. My family, my life and my freedom.
But it wasn't enough for him.
Roman Cross is a monster. A cold, calculated and ruthless mafia king who trapped me in his castle as his bride.
Now Roman wants my heart but I can't affor...
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~*~
Winter
Trust is the key to my escape. I realise that when I gave into the hunger during my strike. At first I was given stale bread with butter, a single apple and some water. Since I was wasting food by refusing to eat, Roman didn't bother to provide me a decent meal.
When the hunger became too much and I grew weaker, I finally caved and took a bite of the apple. Then the teeth shattering stale bread; a certified choking hazard. After a week or two, he must have been pleased with my behaviour because my meals were fresh and of better quality.
When he trusted me enough, he gave me a caretaker; Marta. She always looks immaculate; tight bun, not a hair out of place and her uniform, consisting of smart pants, a white dress shirt and maroon apron, was always clean and crisp. She came with two nameless guards who stood by the door as she cleaned my cell. She provided new clothes, a blanket and human contact.
I fought back the tears when Marta asked me what I would like to eat. It was my first human conversation in months. Like music to my ears.
Though Marta only ever talks when she needed to which meant I never got the answers to the questions I had. Still, it's nice to have a warm presence from time to time.
Today she would be coming with no guards, just her like she had been for several days now. Marta alone I could overpower and I know I can do this. I can escape.
Adrenaline fills my veins as I sit in the bath tub, running the through the plans in my mind. My ears perk up hearing Marta fussing in my room just outside the door.
I drain the tub until nothing is left. My hands clasp around the faucet, turning it and allowing cold water to pour into the tub. I let it fill to the brim.
I slip into some fluffy shorts and an oversized white button shirt that no doubt belongs to Roman. It even smells like his woody cologne.
Then I wait letting Marta believe I was soaking in the tub a little longer than usual. I know eventually she'll knock on the door asking if I'm alright. So I wait to heard her knocks tapping against the wooden door.
It doesn't take long, about eight minutes.
"Winter?" She calls, "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"
"I'm okay!" I yell back, "give me a second, I'm just getting dress." I pretend to fuss in the bathroom, flushing the toilet then turning the basin faucet on and off. I position myself near the door, ready to grab her, "Come in!"
