Page 19 of Boyfriend From Hell
Thatbetternot have been a rat.
My stomach sank sickeningly to my soles as I looked down. An all-too-familiar laugh echoed around me, making the whole situation a million times worse.
Frozen in place by the sound, my bad-bitch bravado floated away with the echoing laughter.
For a moment, I forgot that I may have a squished rodent beneath my foot.
I glanced down both ends of the hallway.
Still, no sign of anything,oranyone.
But the skin-crawling sensation of being watched slid coldly over me. The voice, the sensation, they both gave me the same unsettling feeling I’d had last night.
“Dress, please.” The ominous voice cooed around me.
As if the air itself held an electric current of its own, my hairs slowly began to stand at the command.
“Now,”the voice whispered in my ear, as if the keeper of it was nothing more than centimeters away.
Dress? Inwhat?
“Use your head, sweet one,”The voice murmured, its smooth cadence carrying an unsettling calm. “Look to your feet.”
My jaw clenched and unclenched, the unsettling thought creeping in that whoever was speaking had somehow seen my confusion—or worse, read my thoughts.
Hesitantly, I looked down, relieved to find not a rodent beneath my foot, but a folded bundle of plush fabric.
The sheet fell from my body as I quickly grabbed the bundle of fabric, pulling it free from under my foot, and turned back into the room as fast as I could, slamming the door shutbehind me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on my breath.
In, hold, exhale, hold. Repeat.
I slowly opened my eyes, chancing a glance down at the fabric I held tightly.
Dress,the voice had said.
At least they gave me clothes, I guess.Andfood.I glanced at the platter, but the offering had lost its appeal. Now the thought of eating anything from that plate made me want to vomit.
I can do this. I can get out of here.I needed to believe in myself for once.
Straightening, I shook out the material in my hands. The fabric unraveled as though it was the night sky itself unfurling from my fingertips. A long obsidian gown hung from my grip; the first thing I noticed was that the neckline seemed awfully low cut.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I held the dress up to my frame. It seemed to be my size… which was off putting. What an uncomfortable, lucky guess. I sighed out a mix of frustration and defeat. It was either don this random, perfectly sized gown, or move forward and fight my way out of here in nothing but my current outfit.
This is so, beyond, fucked up.
All I wanted was to just spend my birthday wallowing in self-pity. But no, I had to let my hot freak of a neighbor in—and then I had to slink my way over to his apartment to check on him.
I definitely didnotneed to be abducted.
I cringed and used one hand to fling Felix’s old T-shirt off of me, before stepping into the dress. To my greatest displeasure, I found it very soft, and comfortable.
The dress hung a few inches above the cold, stone floor. My plain socks looked nothing short of foolish peeking out from beneath the gown.
Could they not have at least given me some shoes?
I searched the room for anything that could be used as a weapon, but the space was beyond bleak. Utterly devoid of anything useful. It hardly looked lived in, or used in general–save for the tousled bedding.
