Bump in the Night - Page 23

Sweet one, do not be afraid. Nothing here will harm you. Your task is a simple one. There is a new dress hanging on your dressing screen. I’d love for you to wear it. Then, all you need to do is make your way down the hall toward the rear of the estate. At the end of the hall you will find a portrait of a young couple, sitting on a bench far off in a field. Push the small marble statue on the table under the painting toward the wall. Then enter.

I reach into my bra and pull out the other note, unfolding it and setting them both down on the bed. It’s the same writing for sure. The same old-fashioned writing, and I glance over and see a pink dress. It’s chiffon and silk with a ruffled hem and a tight bodice. Something that looks like a costume from one of my plays, except this one is real and those are just props, and I twist my lips. That cover of warmth returns as I step behind the screen and change my clothes.

A few minutes later, I’m in the hall, working my way as the letter said toward the rear of the estate. I see the painting, then the statue. My heart is thundering as I press my palm onto the cool marble and count to three.

Just as the note said, I push back and a door opens. Inside, low electric lamps illuminate the large space. A whoosh of air flutters my hair and I smell roses and musk, but it’s fresh, not like it’s been closed up forever.

I step inside, then spin when the door shuts behind me, and for a second I realize there were no instructions on how to get out of the room, only how to get in.

The room is warmer than I expect, a low fire burning in the hearth against the wall. There are roses, white and pink, in a huge vase on a center table. The walls are dark wood, bookcases floor to ceiling on another wall filled with leather and hard-bound old books, and the space seems oddly familiar. Maybe this place was used in a movie or something, because I seem to know what is going to be where before I even look.

A bed against the back wall, with heavy ivory curtains surrounding it, draws me closer. The familiar feelings turn darker. A wash of sadness and despair starts to well up inside of me. My eyes dart to where I entered. There’s no handle on the door and suddenly I don’t want to be here. I did my task, I put on the dress, I entered the room.

I’m done.

I dart to the door, running my hands around the edge, pushing and clawing, trying to force it to open, but it doesn’t budge. Drawing a deep breath, I realize with horror that I can’t get enough oxygen. The tight space, the heat of the fire, the smell of smoke, it’s too much. My asthma… I can’t breathe. I need to get out.

“Open, goddammit,” I hiss, tears welling up as the sadness gets heavier, the warmth of the room disappears and I’m left shivering. When I exhale, I can see my breath. “Let me out!” I scream, coughing and heaving deep breaths, tears burning at my eyelids, and although I’m scared it’s this oppressive despair that’s taking over, turning the tears into outright sobs as I bang my fists on the door, wondering again if this is all just one of my nightmares on steroids.

The bravado I felt earlier melts away and all I want is to be home. Away from here. But I can’t stop thinking about Silas. He looks so much like the man from the portrait. How real he is to me and what is really happening here. Do I risk staying? Do I risk leaving?

Nothing feels real anymore, and the only thing I want right now is to be back in my dream of last night, where all was safe, where my breaths came so easily.

Held tight by the man in my dreams.

The man of my dreams.

For once, I wish I’d never woken up.

Chapter 10

Silas

The sunlight streaming through the tapestry curtains makes me blink. My neck aches as I hear the sound of my name being called.

“Silas.”

“What?” I half shout into the dark room. The only other light is from the dim monitors on the wall, a lamp in the corner of the room and the single stream of white light coming in from the window.

“You have a whole suite, dummy. Why are you sleeping in your chair? You’re going to have a crick in your neck all day.”

Squinting, I see the outline of red hair and red lipstick. The haze of sleep clearing and I’m confused because I rarely sleep past dawn.

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