My bubbly knees knocked and buckled in a weak knot.
A thick sigh fluted past my lips as I strolled to the bathroom.
In the snap of a finger, my clothes were off, balled, and tossed around a corner in the room.
I hissed out a soft breath and rolled my eyes away from Elizabeth's threat which miraculously disappeared to the back of my head.
Exhausted, I slid under the warm shower and got lost in its laid-back steam.
It streamed on my neck, down to my back, and tinged my tensed muscles.
They relaxed.
Hooked to memories that railed like loose wagons about my mind, with vague moves, I applied a random shampoo to my hair.
Its fruity aroma tickled my nose but failed to chase out my fears.
I curled my toes on the tiled floor and twirled back in time.
It was my wish right from the start to meet Elisabeth, and scream at her.
But one phone call, that hostile call of hers was a rocket that launched chaos at my subconscious's sanity.
Like a Disney bride, on a horse, riding down the aisle; Elisabeth's defensive speech, her high self-esteem, the nation's size pride, and corny dictatorship marched before my blurred eyes.
Elizabeth was a dictator.
Her personality sent chills to all the cursed lanes of my body.
If she was very fierce, will I be able to air out my mind and expose her dirty tricks without being intimidated?
I had to figure out my plan of action and pen it down.
She withheld the power to terrorize her victims, but my flexed arm was ready to hold her accountable for her actions.
She had to fix her mess.
I turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and stepped out of the shower.
I squeezed my hair and strolled barefoot to my room.
Holding a hairdryer to my hair, I wandered to my closet and pulled on a simple one-shoulder t-shirt, then, slipped into a pair of black-fitting jeans.
It read 4:00 pm on my watch, a tour around the mansion should do me some good, right?
I hunched over a rack to pick a decent pair of sandals.
Luck wasn't on my side.
A knock at the door startled me to lean forward and hit my head.
"Ouch!"
I retracted from the floor, one hand on my forehead while the other staggered with my body to the door.
Who would disturb my privacy at this time of the day?
I seized the door's knob. "Who's there?"
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
A Perfect Stitch
RomanceKidnapped, towed to a church, and wedded to a stranger; Ellis, an eighteen-year-old high school graduate has to find her lost voice and decide between hot-billionaire romance or complete freedom before it's too late to escape the unexpected. ...
