Page 36 of Depravity

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm still alone. The vastness of this place almost overwhelms me. Doorways branch off in every direction, each one leading to another wing, another potential maze of rooms and corridors. I could hide here and be lost for days before Conrad finds me.

No, that’s ridiculous. He probably knows this place like the back of his hand. Add the fact that he’s a Reaper, and I bet he’d have me cornered within the hour.

I choose the door that looks most likely to lead outside, my bare feet silent on the cold marble floor. The shirt Conrad dressed me in barely covers my thighs and I'm acutely aware of how exposed I am, but clothes aren't important right now. Freedom is.

Another grand room opens before me; this one filled with display cases housing what must be centuries of Blake family treasures. Golden chalices, jewel-encrusted crosses, ancient manuscripts - the wealth on display is obscene.

My reflection catches in one of the glass cases, and I barely recognize myself. I look wild, desperate, my hair tangled and my eyes far too wide.

A door at the far end stands slightly ajar, sunlight streaming through the gap temptingly. My heart leaps; could it really be this simple?

I quicken my pace, no longer caring about stealth. Twenty steps. Ten steps. Five. I push through the door and find myself in what must be the morning room, windows stretching from floor to ceiling, looking out over perfectly manicured gardens.

There, just beyond the French doors, is freedom.

My hands shake as I turn the brass handle. It's unlocked. The door swings open and fresh air hits my face, making me dizzy with possibility.

The gardens stretch out before me, perfectly maintained with high hedges and stone fountains. Beyond that I can see trees, actual woods. If I can make it there, I might have a chance.

I take off running, my bare feet slipping on the dewy grass. The shirt flutters around my thighs, but I don't care who might see me. I just need to reach those trees, I need to disappear into their shadows.

I'm halfway across the lawn when I hear it, the thunder of footsteps behind me.

"No, no, no," I gasp, pushing myself harder. My lungs burn, my legs ache, but I'm so close.

The impact hits me from behind, sending me crashing face-first into the grass. A heavy body pins me down as I thrash and kick, my screams muffled by the earth.

"Going somewhere, Mrs. Blake?" A deep voice asks; not Conrad's, but one of his men.

I buck harder, twisting my body, but another set of hands grabs my legs. They haul me up between them like I weigh nothing, my feet dangling uselessly above the ground.

"Let me go." I shriek, not caring how pathetic I sound. "Please, just let me go."

But they're already dragging me back toward the house. Now I can see them; the guards who must have been watching me the whole time. They emerge from behind hedges, from around corners, at least six of them in total. This was never going to work. Christ, I was a fool to think it would be so easy.

"The master said you might try something like this," one of them says, his grip tightening painfully on my arm. "Said you needed time to learn your place."

Tears of frustration and humiliation stream down my face. My shirt has ridden up, leaving me practically naked as they march me back inside. The morning sun that had seemed so promising moments ago now feels harsh, exposing. Taunting even.

I’m taken back through the French doors, past the display cases that mock me with their wealth, across the marble floor that's now smeared with grass stains and dirt from my feet. They keep dragging me up those grand stairs that I'd descended with such hope just minutes ago.

They throw me back into the bedroom with enough force that I stumble and fall, and the door slams behind me with a finality that makes me want to scream.

I curl up on the floor, my body shaking with sobs. I should have known better, should have realized Conrad would never leave anything to chance. The freedom I'd felt was just another one of his games, another way to break me down and show me how powerless I really am.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoes through the room. He'll be back soon; I know he will. And then he'll punish me for trying to run, for daring to think I could escape him.

I drag myself to the bathroom, needing to wash away the evidence of my futile attempt at freedom.

I know if I don’t, if I remain like this, he’ll only strip me down and force me anyway. Surely, it’s better to be clean on my own terms?

In the mirror, my reflection is a mess - grass stains on my knees, dirt smudged across my cheeks, tiny scratches from where I hit the ground. The shirt is ruined, torn in places from the guards' rough handling.

But it's my eyes that catch my attention; they're different now. Harder, the last flicker of hope dying as I truly understand my situation. This isn't just about being locked away in a fancy house, this isn't just about being Conrad's perfect little wife.

This is about total control. Complete submission.

I turn the shower on as hot as I can stand it, letting the water scald my skin. Maybe if I stay here long enough, I can wash away the shame of being so naïve, of thinking that I could outsmart a Blake.

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