Roses & Thorns

Chapter Twelve: Good Girl

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I waited until 6:15 for Grace to come help me with dinner, but she had yet to arrive and as time passed so would Donovan's patience. I had no desire to experience what he was capable of on an empty stomach.

So I tried, and failed at what was supposed to be a roasted chicken and potato dish because, an hour into cooking, smoke began to rise from the stove and the smell of burnt meat flowed through the air.

I gasped, grabbing the nearest oven mit and opening the oven door where a gust of gray smoke clouded my view of the poultry.

I coughed, turning my head away and squinting my eyes. How could I have burned dinner? Heating a chicken didn't seem that difficult but within a short moment, Phil appeared, removing the dish from the oven and dropping it into the sink.

The gust of smoke slowly disappeared but Phil turned on the fan to speed up the process.

"Thank you." I muttered with a short sigh.

"You almost burned the house down." Phil stated. No fire alarm had went off so I doubted that the house would have burned down. Dinner did, but the house...? Over exaggerate much?

I placed the oven mit down and hurried to clean the mess I had made. This wasn't my kitchen and though I hated everything about this place, I didn't want to upset anyone.

"What happened?" I jumped at the sudden voice behind me, accidentally dropping the glass plate I held onto the ground where it landed with a loud crash. I yelped, jumping back instinctively.

"Shit!" I cursed, louder than expected and exhaled deeply. I couldn't even look back because I knew that Donovan and Phil were glaring at me. Or maybe they weren't but either way I didn't want to turn.

I felt my throat tighten and could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I wasn't sad, I was frustrated that I couldn't get anything right.

I heard steps coming closer behind me and I shut my eyes tight, ready to be scolded and yelled at.

"Turn around." Donovan demanded. Without hesitation, I did so and came face to face with a calm expressionless demeanor. He looked down at me and continued, "stop crying."

I wasn't crying. I was tearing and trying desperately hard to keep the tears suppressed by biting my lower lip until I tasted metallic.

"What happened Rosemary?" I inhaled a gulp of air. Wasn't it obvious? I screwed up everything.

"I burned the chicken Don-"

"No, what happened to you?" He looked at the sink then back at me. "Are you-off tonight?"

"It's just-" I paused and shook my head. I didn't need to tell him. I'd been "off" the entire time that I was held captive. He knew that so there was no point in repeating this all the damn time. I was stuck. Being a captive was no longer an excuse. "I'm okay." I lied.

Donovan nodded then checked his black leather watch.

"Put some shoes on and come with me."

"Huh?" Donovan turned and didn't bother to address my question. So I hurried out of the messy kitchen to get my sneakers on.

• • • • • •

My impression of the act of "being in hiding" was to keep a low profile and to also keep in a contained area so that your cover wasn't blown.