Chapter 24
Nora
I awake to a nightmare. A thick comforter pins me down, entangling me as I try to move, unwilling to let me go. The familiar frilled canopy I used to spend so many nights gazing up at, trying to picture myself anywhere else, confirms what I suspected—I’m home.
I furiously pull the bed cover off me, only to realize that someone has undressed me and put me in one of the old-fashioned nightgowns my father always insisted I slept in.
I let out a strangled scream as I notice that the rest of the room is exactly as it was the last time I was here.
Like a shrine, not a single detail has changed.
The walls are still papered in gaudy pink and white swirls, the ornate four-poster bed still dominates the room, and the matching white bedside tables, wardrobe, and dressing table remain.
Even the giant dollhouse replica of our family home sits beneath the windowsill.
It’s a fairy princess room. The kind any young girl would dream of. When my father first showed it to me at five years old, I adored it. It was only over time that the room became a sinister mask, hiding the horrors I endured there. A prison rather than a sanctuary.
Before I left, back when I was still trying to love my father, excusing his ways as being overprotective and that no father wants their little girl to grow up, I tried to argue that I was too old for such a childish room.
I was told in no uncertain terms that I would always be his little girl.
A good, obedient, pure girl, and I would do as I was told.
My hair had to be long, silky, and straight. My body had to remain slim and childlike. Fed a strict calorie-controlled diet with no treats. Every aspect of my life was controlled, and I lived in a gilded cage.
Being back in this room, all of the ugly memories I’ve pushed way down inside of me come bubbling to the surface.
Panic claws at my throat and my heart is being clenched in a vice.
I race to the bathroom, vomit splashing on the toilet bowl as I just make it in time.
I’m sick until my throat stings and I’m dry heaving, big fat tears rolling down my cheeks as I sob hopelessly.
If my life was hell before, it’s going to be ten times worse now.
I dared to leave him. There will be dire consequences for that.
I wipe my mouth and flush, getting up to survey the contents of the bathroom.
I’m not so stupid as to think that I’ll be able to fight my way out.
I was lucky to escape the first time, and he won’t let that happen again.
But I could end it all. Without me, he loses.
I’d rather die than suffer through whatever fate he has in store for me.
But this time I have someone on my side, an ally who is dangerous and has sworn to protect me. Like some useless princess locked in a tower, my hope now lies in my dark knight riding in to rescue me. I can only hope he knows what’s happened, because if he doesn’t then no one can save me.
My father has clearly anticipated that I might consider harming myself or fashioning a weapon, as there’s nothing of use anywhere in the bathroom or bedroom.
There aren’t even any mirrors I could break and everything heavy is tightly secured to the floor.
I test the door, although I know before trying that it’s locked.
I expect he’ll leave me here to ruminate before making his grand entrance and divulging his grand plans for me.
The wardrobe is still filled with all of the clothing I left behind when I ran.
The demure, childlike dresses he insisted I wore.
I pick out the least hideous one and throw it on; anything is better than this goddamned Victorian nightgown.
In an act of defiance, I tear at the tulle, ripping it out from underneath.
Without it puffing the skirt up, the dress falls more flatteringly.
Now if only I could do something about the puffy sleeves.
I push them down as best as I can, so they hang just off the shoulder.
I rummage through the shoes and find the heels have been removed. At least my father realizes how creative I might get to escape. Using the spike of a heel as a weapon wouldn’t be beyond me. With a sigh, I slip on a pair of ballet-style flats that tie around the ankle.
I wish I could escape to the solace of the library like I did when I was a child.
It became my sanctuary from my father and the bullies at school.
It was also where I met Ms. Miller, the librarian who eventually helped me escape, promising I’d be safe living next door to her brother, Josef, that he’d help me find work and get a new identity.
I didn’t ask too many questions at the time, I was just so grateful that someone was helping me.
I later gathered from Josef, once we became friends, that he had worked for the government, specializing in witness protection.
Thanks to him and Ms. Miller, I had five happy, safe years away from the clutches of my father. I don’t know how he found me, but I’ll never reveal to him who helped me escape.
The view from my barred window is unchanged.
Perfectly manicured lawns hidden behind tall concrete walls topped with barbed wire, an impenetrable fortress.
Beyond those, the Hollywood Hills spread out beneath us.
Los Angeles, the land that promises fame and fortune for the lucky few and ruin for those who aren’t tough enough to make it.
A place where money and power can buy anything.
Where men like my father thrive, hiding in plain sight.
It’s well-known that his businesses aren’t strictly above board, but as long as the cash keeps flowing, no one seems to care.
Escaping once had been a miracle. There won’t be another for me.
The life I’ve been living for the past five years already feels like a distant dream.
I should have known it couldn’t last, that my father would get his hooks into me and drag me back down to hell with him.
If he’s brought me back, no doubt it’s because he needs me.
He wants to marry me off to the highest bidder.
I wonder if this is how Persephone felt before she was dragged to the depths of the underworld as Hades’ bride.