Page 88 of Carnival
Every morning, she’d insist on dressing me. Not only to put me in these ridiculous clothes but also to do my makeup, too. It’s light, but with a lot of blush and some lipstick that I’d never pick myself.
My feet are aching from the excessive amount of heels I’ve been wearing because they’re all a size too small. My feet and toes are filled with blisters, and it hurts whenever I try to move.
Everything in here resembles the quarters of a princess. A big bed with the finest mattress and white furniture with specks of pink all around me. There’s even a painted portrait of me, on the wall across from the bed.
But of course, the door is locked from the outside.
I stare out of the fake window — similar to one that I had in the room where James kept me during the carnival. I can hardly move, and I can barely breathe. The corset is too tight, and I feel like my ribs have definitely been bruised.
The makeup on my face is starting to feel cakey, although there isn’t a lot of it. Hell, I’ve worn more makeup for a study session than I have on right now. I don’t know if it’s the products used or the fact that I’m slowly starting to suffocate on the inside.
Vivian wants a perfect doll, and I became one.
It’s not as though I hadn’t tried fighting — I did. It was useless. She was able to overpower me with ease, especially because she never came alone. Her henchmen are always by her side, ready to react whenever she gives the order.
My meals are tracked, too. The perfect amount of protein, each calorie is counted, and the food is rather bland. I think I’ve lost a few pounds in the past two weeks since I’ve been in here, and I’m constantly hungry.
Vivian doesn’t care.
If I don’t fit the perfect image she has for me, she’ll get rid of me.
My eyes flick to the door, my back straightening upon seeing the woman enter. She’s on the taller side, towering at least twofull inches over me. Her hair is styled into a perfect bob, with a wide, almost terrifying smile on her face.
“My darling,’’ she coos softly, stepping closer to me. Her heels echo on the tiled floor, and I force a small smile. The mere sight of her makes my blood run cold, the bruise on my cheek starting to sting. It was a direct result of me trying to get answers out of her. And it wasn’t the only bruise I’d gotten.
“Grandmother,’’ I greet her politely, briefly glancing at the door behind her. Of course, two of her men are right there, and despite the door being open, there’s no way out for me. This psychological game she’s playing is slowly starting to get to me.
“You look even prettier like this.’’ She brushes off a fallen strand of my hair behind my ear, her long nails dragging over my cheek. I flinch, and I immediately recognize my mistake. Her eyes harden, lips thin into a straight line, and she steps back.
“There’s no need to fear me, my dear,’’ she speaks, and although she smiles, it’s cold. It doesn’t reach her eyes, and I can see the pure insanity behind her expression. She doesn’t even try to hide it. “Come on, you get to go outside today.’’
I slowly rise from the bed, wincing as soon as I take a step forward. My blisters burst, and the inside of my shoes started filling with blood. I swallow the pain, silently following her out of the room.
It’s located in the basement of the massive manor. All I know is that we haven’t left New York, because I managed to eavesdrop a little. However, she doesn’t plan to stay here for long. Which means I need to find a way out before she relocates me to an unknown location.
When we reach the ground floor, she snaps her fingers, and a maid comes in, bringing a coat. Vivian snatches it from the young girl, and I can’t help but pity her. She looks absolutely terrified, and she can’t be older than eighteen. Who knows what the circumstances were that led her to this monster? I can’t be the one to judge. I can only hope she can find a way out, too.
Vivian drapes the white coat over my shoulders, making sure it won’t fall off, and takes me outside through the back door.
Fucking hell.
It’s snowing.
The ground is covered in a thin layer of snow, and it’s still falling from the sky. The garden is absolutely massive — to the point I can’t tell where it even ends. I tilt my chin up, letting the harsh wind hit my face and dry off the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes from the pain in my feet.
Vivian doesn’t seem bothered by the coldness or snow and slowly takes a seat on a bench. It’s been cleaned of snow beforehand, and she pats the seat next to her. I wordlessly obey, the proximity making me alert.
This woman makes my skin crawl.
But if I want to even get a single chance to escape, I need to play the part of the loving, doting granddaughter she so desperately wants. I close my eyes for a moment, jaw clenched, and without thinking too much, I slide my feet out of the heels and put them on the cold snow.
They’re bloody; one of my toenails is broken, the nerve bleeding. No wonder it fucking hurt so much. My feet are bruised, too, with deep shades of red, purple, and green. They’ve never looked so terrible.
“Oh, no,’’ Vivian mumbles, looking down at my feet. “I’ll have someone check this out for you. Why didn’t you tell me you were in pain, darling?”
Maybe because whenever I complained, you hit me until I stopped speaking?
“Because I didn’t want to worry you,’’ I lie through my teeth, smiling. “You are a busy woman.’’
