Page 29 of Captured By Fate

The room is draped in darkness save for a sliver of silver moonlight cutting through the heavy curtains. The air is frosty yet carries a faint scent of aged wood and lingering lavender, a constant reminder of the paradoxical beauty and despair that haunts this castle.

I let myself fall onto the mattress, its velvet softness barely enough to cushion the heavy weight of my dread. Each intricate stitch on the duvet is a testament to the countless hours spent creating what's meant to provide comfort, but only serves as a stark contrast to my inner turmoil.

I huddle myself into a ball, pulling a corner of the richly embroidered quilt over me, attempting to cocoon myself from reality.

Underneath the canopy of woven dreams, sleep remains elusive as my mind races back to Jackson. His impassive face flashing in my mind's eye; followed by flashes of unexpected tenderness that seemed to irrupt from deep within him earlier today.

In every shadow that flickers across my closed eyelids, I see his silhouette - chiseled and unyielding. Each gust of wind through the slitted window carries an echo of his voice – deep and bewitching.

“Why?” My voice is barely audible as it bounces off the stone walls and blends with the rustling night outside. Why am I drawn towards him? The very person who took away my liberty.

I grit my teeth, willing away images of our earlier encounter, but sleep continues to elude me. At this point, I’d need a bottle of NyQuil to pass out.

A renewed sense of purpose propels me out of the bed and into the night. I tiptoe through the hallway, my eyes adjusting to the flickering light of the wall sconces. My heart pounds rhythmically against my rib cage as I descend down the grand staircase. The massive chandeliers overhead cast grotesque shadows on the ornate carpet, a disturbing mirror image of my own fears.

I reach the bottom of the staircase, my hand resting fleetingly on the final balustrade, taking a moment to gather my strength. The silence of the mansion is suffocating, each tick of the ancient grandfather clock echoing around the voluminous hallways as if to punctuate my precarious situation. I glide past rows of portraits, their eyes seeming to follow me, their stoic expressions a haunting constant in this ever-changing nightmare.

The mansion is a maze of extravagant opulence, a labyrinth designed to ensnare and confound. But over time, as unwanted a guest as I am, I've learned its eccentricities — where doors creak and floors groan under surreptitious footsteps. I tread carefully through these silent corridors, my senses heightened by the urgency of my mission.

Eventually, I find myself at the large oak doors that lead to the exterior, their imposing structure a symbolic barrier between me and freedom. Wrapping my fingers around the cold metal handle, I pull slowly and quietly until it gives way to the view of an expansive courtyard bathed in ethereal moonlight.

The sight is nothing short of breathtaking; meticulously manicured lawns stretch into the distance, dotted with statues cast in silver moonshine. A seemingly endless forest lies beyond, its towering trees forming an impenetrable wall under a canopy of constellations.

Without wasting another moment, I step out onto the cobblestoned path leading through an avenue of marble arches draped in blooming wisteria. The air outside is crisp but sweet - an intoxicating blend of night-blooming jasmine and dew-soaked cypress. Crickets chirp and owls hoot in the distance, nature's lullaby providing a stark contrast to the silence I just escaped.

The path winds sinuously, each curve inviting me further into the moon-lit landscape. I pass a serene pond where lilies slumber on the water’s surface, their petals closed against the night chill. The scene is so idyllic, it's hard to believe it forms part of my prison.

I continue onward, weaving between a menagerie of topiary creatures; a fox mid-pounce, a swan with neck elegantly curved, a doe and her fawn standing sentinel — all ghostly figures in the night. Each rustle of the leaves underfoot seems amplified in my racing heart but I press on, my gaze unwavering from the promise of freedom ahead.

Between two towering yew trees, I finally see it - an imposing wrought-iron gate marking the boundary of this disastrous paradise. It's shrouded in a veil of overgrown ivy that looks as if it’s been untouched for years.

A sigh escapes as relief washes over me. Yet, there's no time to celebrate. I approach the gate cautiously, half-expecting some unforeseen security measure to spool into action at any moment. But there is nothing - only a disused padlock hanging heavily on the gate, its keyhole filled with years' worth of rust and dirt.

I push against the cold iron bars and to my surprise, they give. The gate creaks open with an eerie moan that sends a shiver down my spine. Quickening my pace now, I step through.

“Where ya going?”

I freeze. It can’t be him. I turn slowly, wondering how the hell he saw me. He stands underneath the shadow of a massive oak tree smiling lazily.

I turn and run, but I don’t make it far before his arms wrap around me and we both tumble onto the soft grass. He pins me beneath him and I thrash about, desperate to break free from his iron grip. But Jackson is stronger, his arms like steel bands encasing me. His eyes, cold and impassive in the ghostly moonlight, bore into mine forcefully.

"No!" I spit venomously at him. "Let go of me!"

He simply chuckles, that familiar laugh that used to make my heart flutter now making my blood boil.

"Nice try, love," he drawls in a voice that drips with arrogance. He tightens his grip, showing no sign of releasing me any time soon.

With one swift movement, Jackson hauls me over his shoulder and marches back to the mansion. The residence looms ominously before us, its stone façade looking more like a fortress than a home under the silver moonlight. My heart sinks as he carries me past the towering yew trees and the topiary menagerie beneath the watchful gaze of the marble statues.

Through grand double doors that once seemed welcoming but now stood as grim sentinels, we venture back into my gilded cage. The silence of the night is disrupted by our echoing footsteps on the marble floor, our shadows dancing grotesquely on the ornate walls adorned with golden fleur-de-lis patterns and centuries-old oil portraits.

Up grand staircases and ornate corridors we march — every familiar corner reminding me how close I was to escape, yet how far from freedom I still am. A sigh whispers from my lips as he thrusts open a heavy door at the end of an elongated hallway.

He dumps me unceremoniously onto a plush bed - an opulent show of red velvet and gold that feels disturbingly soft beneath me. Jackson strides around the room with a predatory grace.

I rise from the plush bed and pace towards the grand window overlooking the vast gardens. The moonlight casts an ethereal glow over the landscape, painting it with hues of silver and black. It's beautiful but also daunting, a sharp reminder of my desperate situation.

Suddenly, I feel his presence close behind me. His strong arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me against his taut frame. I can feel the warmth seeping through his shirt, causing an unwelcome stir within me.

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