The Wandering Mansion- PrisonerMature

Once my eyes could cry no longer and my throat couldn't scream any more, I decided to investigate my room. It was taller that an average room (I would be able to kneel comfortably on the wardrobe). As much as I hated to admit it, it was certainly nice, not at all like a normal 'cell'. There was an ensuite bathroom, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a dresssing table and a huge four poster bed. I had a nose around. I looked in drawers, and opened cupboards. There were long dresses of various shade of grey hanging in the wardrobe. The only nightcothes were long night dresses. It was weird; there were no modern clothes. There were also no windows.

  I paced around for a bit, had a glass of water to soothe my burning throat, and decided to go to sleep. I pulled the duvet, pillows and blankets off the bed and arranged them on the floor as a makeshift bed. I would rebel in any way possible, which included staying in my blue jeans and long sleeved black top. I turned the light out and tried to rest my mind. I sighed, and opened my eyes as I turned towards the wardrobe, trying to get comfortable. I noticed a chink of light above the wardrobe. I turned the light back on and climbed onto the chest, and then onto the wardrobe. There was a wooden board that was not quite covering a window. I pulled as hard as I could, and found that the board came away easily, although I almost fell off. I pushed the window, and it opened. there was just enough space for me to get through it.

  I climbed onto the roof (I wasn't on the top floor; it was a lower part of the roof). I breathed in the fresh air that I had missed. I took in my surroundings. I was far too high to make and escape, but I could come up here for a breath of fresh air and the little freedom it gave me. And, of course, I could see if anyone was coming to save me. I climbed back down, and went to sleep almost instantly, relishing in my small victory.

  My first few days were mostly uneventful. I was left to my own devices. But soon, Aaron came to visit me, much to my annoyance.

  "Isn't it enough that I'm trapped her? Do I have to see your repulsive face on top of it?" I demanded, furious. He smiled at my, showing his teeth which were remarkably white. Of course my evil captor practised good dental hygiene.

  "Oh my little Aila. How funny you are."

  "That wasn't meant to be funny. And I'm not yours, or little." I paused. "Just piss off." I spat. He laughed.

  "You're more mine than my pathetic brother's. Especially as he is going to die very soon." I saw red and lunged for him, trying to hit him, but he was inhumanly quick. His hands held my wrists, and he leant in, trying to kiss me. He honestly thought that my violence was in want of affection. Oh how wrong he was. As I couldn't slap him, I did the only thing I could. I spat in his face. It wasn't too effective as I had never been too good at spitting, but the message was recieved. He let go of me, and stepped back, wiping my spit off. He was still smiling. "Fiesty." He said. I, rather childishly, I'll admit, gave him the finger.

  "Stay away from me." I told him, thunder in my eyes and voice.

  "I'll see you tomorrow, my little Aila. Hopefully my brother will be joining us soon. I'm she he's just dying to save you." He said before leaving the room. I ran to the door and banged it.

  "I'm not yours! And you'll never touch him!" I screamed at him. I heard a chuckle from behind the door, and kicked it with all of my might. Angry tears filled my eyes, and I ran to the bathroom, for no particular reason. I was looking at the shower, and decided that having a shower would cause no harm. I enjoyed the feeling of the hot water over my scar marked body. I was in there a long time, and when I came out I looked for my clothes. They were gone. I couldn't believe it. I had two options, either stay in the towel and freeze (not to mention I was sure that Aaron would really enjoy seeing me in nothing but a towel), or dress in their clothes. I chose option two. I picked a light grey dress that was plain but looked like it was from Jane Austen's era. Luckily it was long sleeved.

  The next morning, Aaron came into my room.

  "Where are my clothes?" I demanded. He smiled.

  "You look very nice in that, Aila."

  "Don't say my name. Where are my clothes?" He laughed.

  "Well, my love, I thought that you may as well dress like us, as you will be living here from now on."

  "Well I won't be, so  I want my clothes back. And how dare you call me your love!? You don't know me, and I hate you anyway." I spat. He grinned.

  "Oh I know a lot more about you than you think. How's Victor?" My hand went to slap him at the mere mention of my father. He held my arm again, but this time he smelt my arm. "I paid for you a long time ago, little Aila. Do you remember? Because I never forgot you."

  I felt sick, and I was pretty sure I was going to faint. That was why I recognised Aaron. It was him. The one who tried to rape me when I was 13. My whole body seized up in panic. He pulled me closer to him by my arm, which really hurt. I could feel each individual finger making bruises on my skin. He went to kiss me, and I turned my head, disgusted. But I knew.

  I knew that he was going to finish what he had started all those years ago. And there was nothing I could do to stop him. 

The End

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