Chapter 47 The Gilded Cage
Phoebe
My hazy eyes flutter open, the sunlight beams through the room. Making the room seem bright and cheery. Black silky sheets and a fluffy blanket holding me in a bed that felt like angels made it. Where the hell am I? I rub my eyes, then look again — there’s a black vanity with make up and hair products. A long wooden dresser with a large mirror that pointed directly at the bed. Jewelry scattered on the dresser, an archway that looked like it went into another room with green moss wrapped around it. The floors are a dark stone with white dots that make it look like it's exploding. The post of the bed frame had a handcuff dangling from it.
What the fuck? I jump off the bed, my foot landing on something hard that crunched beneath my foot.
I move my foot, a broken photo frame with a picture of Amara and Killain. I remember when this was taken. This is when we all went to Vegas, we spent the weekend drinking, gambling, laughing. I had no idea what he was truly like; she had kept so much from me. I understood her though, no matter how badly that hurt me. I picked up the photo and put it on the nightstand. This must be their room. I carefully picked up the glass and tossed it in the trashcan. The floor had multiple bottles, empty scattered about.
Jesus, drink much? He clearly had an issue.
I walk towards the archway — a hallway leading to a large room. There were chains rigged up the walls, whips and rods lined up against the wall. Large dressers lined against the wall. I walk further in, and to my left is an entire walk-in closet, filled to the brim with clothes. A wall of shoes in the very back. You know, I might have stayed too. I run my hand down one of her black dresses — it was gorgeous, with flower cuts around the breasts and small white diamonds leading up it.
I continue to explore, finally finding the bathroom. My jaw hits the floor. The bathroom was as big as it was breathtaking. A large double shower and holes in the sides leading all the way up for steam. There was a gorgeous stone waterfall that the walls wrapped around. A large black jetted tub that looked to be custom made. His and her sinks were on the opposite side of the wall. Damn, she was really living.
I look at the shower, then walk back into the main room, checking to see if the door is locked. It isn't. I creak the door slowly open. I hear nothing — no men, no sounds, no smells of cooking.
Good — they must all be asleep. I tug at the collar on my neck. I don't think he was lying about this thing. I walk back into the shower, more desperate to get the feel of them off me than finding something to get this collar off.
The shower rumbles and starts shooting water out each end. I stick my hand out, the water pressure is perfect. The holes in the wall start spitting out steam. I step my sore, naked body inside, closing the glass door. The waterfall lights up and water starts pouring down it. I grab what I assume is her luffa and soap.
I scrub every inch of my body, still feeling dirty. I scrub again and again and again. Until I collapse to the ground of the shower, sobbing. After crying for a while, I stand back up and wash my hair.
I step out of the shower and go searching Amara’s clothes. I start pulling drawers open, finally finding a pair of comfy sweats, a t-shirt, hoodie, and socks. I quickly put them on and brush my hair — finally feeling somewhat normal after the last few days.
I listen again to see if I hear the boys up. Nothing. Complete silence.
I start looking around for a tool to pry this thing off my neck. All I can find is a screwdriver — well, that isn’t going to help — reaching around, feeling the type of lock it was. This is for sure a computerized lock. If only I had my laptop...and a way to plug this in without having to learn how to spin my head like an owl.
My stomach grumbled. I needed food — and coffee. Maybe they drank themselves into a coma. I hope they did.
I quietly open the door and sneak out. I tiptoe into the kitchen, looking around. The house felt so empty. I start walking towards the back door. Just as I approach it, my collar starts beeping. Then it shocks me with a low voltage warning shock. I step back and it stops.
I do this in every room in the house, figuring out exactly where I am allowed to go. Satisfied with my investigation, hope starts to rise. I could do this. I could get this off my neck.
I brew a cup of coffee and lean over the counter, enjoying the smell. The hot liquid down my throat feels like battery acid on my rawness.
“Helping yourself, Princess?”
Lee’s voice startles me. I jump in response.
“I was thirsty.”
He comes up behind me and runs his finger up my back. I jump away from him. I didn't want anyone to touch me — I probably had little say in that.
He ignores my reaction and makes himself a cup of coffee.
“Did they…” he stirs his coffee.
“What, rape me? Beat me? Torture me? Humiliate me? No, not at all — we went to the mall and went shopping. Great guys, truly.” Unable to coat the rage.
“I see.” He stares intently at his coffee.
“I guess I should have listened to you, right?”
“Yes, you should have.”
“Why are you being so nice?”
He walks over to me, looking me in my eyes with force.
“Don’t die.”
He then walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
“What the hell?”