𝘖𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤- mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding
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She's never been outside of her house.
It hadn't ever been a problem until now.
But now she's alone.
The only closure she has is a singular lette...
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Rose's POV:
I stand there for a moment in shock. He can't be serious right? I mean, I've only just met this man! Plus, I am not an object. This strange, sketchy dude has no right to come into my life and claim me as his.
I'm already Gio's.
I miss Gio.
"What do you mean silly? He's probably waiting for me at home right now. Speaking of home, can I leave now?" I've had enough of this place for the rest of my life.
"Absolutely not," he growls out.
"What do you mean?" I ask confused.
"Are you stupid? I said you can't leave so that means you can't leave!" He suddenly bursts out.
"But-" I'm cut off with another sharp slap to my face.
"Do not speak unless spoken to!"
I want to remind him that he is literally speaking to me right now but one look at his angry red face and I decide against it.
"Good; let's go over some rules Doll Face." He grabs my arm harshly and pushes me back down into the chair.
"Number one: you will never, and I mean never leave this house. Number two: you are my possession and will do whatever I say. Number three: my name is Mr. Rossi. Number four: I control you completely."
What? Who does this guy think he is!?
Not knowing if I'm allowed to speak, I just sit in the chair like a statue in utter bewilderment. This cannot be real; it's gotta be some messed up nightmare.
"Oh, and one more thing; bad girls get punished," he stares at me with a wicked smirk as he brings something out of his drawer; a gun. If that's supposed to make me feel threatened, then bravo to him.
"Now leave; my guard will take you to your room. And do not try to escape, it will not end out well for you." I quickly nod my head and scurry out of the room wanting to be as far away from him as possible.
Lying on my cot, I sigh. I'd only just earned my independence and freedom only for Sir-Creeps-A-Lot to barge in and rip it away from me. I haven't been outside in so long; I would give anything to feel the wind on my face again.
It's been three days since I woke up in this strange place I refuse to call home; three days since he claimed me as his possession; three days since I've last been outside of this prison of a room.
At least when I was living with Mama, I had free reign to go wherever I wanted in the house. It didn't feel like I was trapped in a cage. Plus, I trusted Mama and her reasoning behind our staying inside.
I haven't once left this room. I haven't even thought about trying to escape; it truly wouldn't be worth it because, and I mean this in the least desperate-sounding way, I'm genuinely weak.
I'm not some main character who can magically be someone I'm not when I need to. I'm human and this is unfortunately real life, not an inspirational movie. Attempting to escape inevitably means getting caught, and getting caught will lead to a much worse situation for me.
I'd rather not find out what that guy is like when he's angry. So I stay here. For the most part, I just lay down and stare at the ceiling.
I'm brought back to the present when someone begins to bang loudly on my door.
"Mr. Rossi requests your presence immediately," I hear a man growl out.
After getting up and leaving the room, I'm escorted to the same office as before. I shiver in anxiety thinking about the man who probably sits inside.
And sure enough, once the doors are opened and I'm pushed into the room, I'm faced with the same man as before.
"Oh, how I've missed you Doll. Come here," he beckons and I obey not wanting to deal with the consequences. When I'm within arm's length of him, Mr. Rossi grabs my waist and pulls me into his chest.
I hate it.
This fake-hug thing does the opposite of comforting me. It only gets weirder though when he presses his nose to my hair and inhales my scent. And maybe I'm looking too much into it, but I thought I heard him mumble something along the lines of 'You even smell like her'.
He finally lets me go a few minutes later and I sigh in relief. He motions for me to sit down, so I do, and then sits down himself.
"Do you like stories Doll Face?" He asks.
My face lights up, "Yes, very much!" Maybe he has some books for me as a peace offering!
"Good because I'm going to tell you one."
No books? That's a tragedy.
"Once upon a time, a man fell in love with a beautiful girl. He married her and gave her everything she could ever possibly want. In return, he simply asked for her devotion. Unfortunately, the selfish girl soon took his kindness for granted and ran away with his unborn child, disappearing from the face of the earth. Nearly two decades later when he found out the girl had passed away, the man was devastated. Fortunately for him, his daughter was very much alive and so he took her promising to never let her go."
Before I have time to even process his words, Mr. Rossi abruptly stands up and grabs my hand with his in an impossibly harsh grip. To my surprise, he begins to lead us out of his office and down a hallway I've never been in before (granted, I've only been through about two hallways in this place).
After enough twists and turns for me to lose my direction, I'm pulled into a different room. Something about the atmosphere of this room doesn't feel quite right and suddenly, I feel extremely nauseous.
Placed in the center of the back wall of the room is an old vanity that probably costs more than my kidney is worth; bookshelves surround it on either side. Several paintings line the walls, all of them portraits. At a glance, the room seems pretty normal.
Until you look closer.
If you look for long enough, you can see smudged fingerprints lining the mirror of the vanity in a pattern that suggests whoever made them was desperately clinging onto it for dear life. If you look closely, you can see that the bookshelves aren't lined with ordinary books but rather hundreds of labeled drawers that say things like "hair", or "articles of clothing". And if you take the time to analyze the portraits on the walls, it's easy to see they're all of the same person.
This isn't an ordinary room; it's someone's old prison.
At that moment, everything seems to click into place. I'm not the first one he's taken and his story isn't as fictional as I interpreted.
This man is the living definition of a sociopath.
I'm screwed.
"Who was the story about?" I find myself softly asking.
"Isabelle."
Shock courses through my body as I realize why that name and his story sound so familiar; the girl from his story was Mama.
