Page 39 of Lost Petal

Chapter 22

Petal

The girl looking back at me is a stranger.

I should have known. If there’s nothing left inside my mind that could help me figure out who I am, a simple look in the mirror won’t help in the least. I could just as well be looking through a window with another person staring back at me.

But still, I can’t stop looking at her, observing, searching, the tips of my fingers absentmindedly traveling across my cheeks, as if I still needed them to gain understanding of my own features. Long ash-blonde hair frames a face that bears the signs of a life I have forgotten. My lips are light-colored, barely standing out against the surrounding skin, and my nose is too small for the rest of my face, especially in comparison to my eyes.

They are green and dark against the skin of my cheeks. Dark shadows blemish the area right beneath my eyes, giving my face a ghostly expression, especially with my eyes wide like this, staring at my own reflection as if I were seeing it for the very first time.

And in a way, I am. I have lived a life before all of this, but I don’t remember a single detail about it. I don’t know the name of the girl looking back at me. I don’t know her story, her memories. But I have a feeling that she hides a dark secret, something that has left a mark on her that’s still visible even now. My cheeks are too hollow and the shadows beneath my eyes have grown over time. They’re remnants of a story that lacks a happy ending.

Something happened to this girl, the stranger who is me.

“Who are you?”

It’s the most wondrous thing to see myself speak. To see those strange lips moving as I hear a voice I’ve reacquainted myself with. Next to my body, it was the only thing I had left, a part of me that needed no mirror to reveal itself.

I take a step back from the mirror, turning away from it with a disappointed frown, as it didn’t hold the answers I was hoping for.

I gasped in pleasant surprise when I first stepped into the bathroom, switching on a light that’s a lot brighter than both the basement light bulb and the one in the bedroom up here.

It was the door right next to the bed that led me here, inside a bathroom that’s almost as big the basement cell, but emitting an entirely different atmosphere. First of all, it’s brighter in every aspect. White, there’s white all over. White tiles on the floor and wall, a white sink and vanity, a white toilet hidden behind a corner to the right and a white tub, big enough for two people if not more. Golden fixtures give the room an elegant finish. The design may be minimalistic at first impression, but it’s apparent that everything in here is of highest quality, speaking of wealth.

He must be rich. I’ve had the feeling from the very first time he stepped into my gray chamber downstairs, only judging from the way he dressed and the way he carried himself. He always dressed to the nines, always looking so sharp and well-kept. His immaculate appearance added to my feeling of inferiority. I’ve always felt small and dirty before him, embarrassed to even be seen by such a beautiful monster. I haven’t had a chance to clean myself, to take care of myself in any way. If anything, I felt like my appearance was slowly adapting to my environment, my skin turning gray, the color of my hair fading just like my hope of ever getting out of here, while everything about me was covered with a thin layer of concrete dust.

This is why—next to the mirror above the sink—the gigantic bathtub has the biggest appeal to me. I move as if in a trance as I approach it, finding my hand on the golden faucet without hesitation. I sit on the edge of the tub, adding some of the bath soap that’s been waiting on a small shelf next to the tub, watching it twirl in the shallow water.

He left me with no instructions, no warning, no ban on anything. There were no words about what I was to do after he left me, and my idle mind is in desperate need for occupation, as I still lack company or any kind of dissipation.

For a moment, I hoped I could get something out of the black-haired girl. I was overcome with unbridled hope when I heard her voice for the first time.

“You’ve always liked it.”

Right after uttering those mysterious words, she hurried out of the room, as if she tried to run away from a horrible mistake. There was no chance for me to follow up on her words, no way to make her stay even a moment longer.

You’ve always liked it.

Her words suggest she knows the person I used to be before waking up in here. Maybe even for a long time. We are about the same age, so it makes sense to assume that we were friends. Maybe we grew up together?

How is it possible that I can’t recall a single thing about her or the relationship we might have, even if I try? I’ve tried so hard, digging deeper and deeper into the farthest corners of my mind, only to face the same wall of resistance that’s been there from the beginning. I can penetrate it as much as I want; it doesn’t budge in the slightest. Instead, I just get dizzy while my stomach turns dangerously, threatening to get rid of the food the girl brought. It was another sandwich, and this time my hunger won over the desire to act up. There’s no point in not eating if it will only bring me back to that horrible basement. Nothing could be worse.

This however, this feels likes heaven.

The hot water prickles on my skin, bordering on pain when I cautiously immerse myself in the midst of steaming comfort. I welcome the heat, sighing as I dive deeper into the tub, almost entirely disappearing beneath cloudy mountains of soap. I haven’t felt this warm and comfortable since I woke up, and only now do I realize how sore my entire body has become from being exposed to the concrete cold downstairs. The prickling is especially intense on my behind, still bearing a reminder to the spanking I received when I was barely awake.

I close my eyes, moving down into the liquid warmth until the water is reaching up to my chin. This must be the first time I’m closing my eyes in relaxation, and not in fear and to shield myself away from something. One by one, my muscles lose all tension, my limbs floating with a lightness I’m not accustomed to. I let it happen, relishing an ease that seemed unattainable just a few minutes ago.

My mind wanders aimlessly for the first time, not trying to understand or make sense of the things that are happening to me, not banging against doors that remain closed no matter what, not asking, not crying, not screaming for help that won’t come. None of that. It’s just a simple stroll through the darkness unburdened by ignorance.

“Petal.”

My eyes fly open in an instant and my heart jumps in shock. He’s standing right next to me, his hands buried in his pants pockets and a benevolent smile gracing his face as he looks down on me with his head slightly tilted to the side. Just like always, there’s a hint of threat in his smile, warning me not to trust it.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I excuse myself, instinctively crossing my arms in front of my body.

“Obviously,” he says, stepping closer while he grabs a big towel from a stack beneath the vanity. “But that’s no excuse for not welcoming your master as you’re supposed to.”

I can’t suppress a frown at him, feeling more annoyed than frightened by the prospect of another punishment. Just a few more minutes, a little more time in this heaven that gave me more solace than anything else. Is that too much to ask?

He holds the towel up, jutting his chin forward in a commanding gesture. “Get out. We have to talk.”

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