Page 72 of Petite Fleur

Why do I look settled in this room?

Somehow everything looks perfectly placed while looking out of place at the same time, like I’ve been forced into this space and I don’t quite fit.

The only thing that solidifies that I shouldn’t be here is that the door is locked from the outside, and the window doesn’t open.

What am I supposed to do?

I take a lap around the large and spacious room, taking a mental inventory of everything.

Half of the closet is mine, carefully hung and arranged by item and season while the other half is a man’s clothes.

Cigarette pants, fancy sweaters, button-ups, slacks, loafers, and Oxford shoes.

Wait…Leon wears these things.

That can’t be.

I can’t be the girl who somehow gets so drunk that I slept with a professor.

I’m not even sure if that’s what happened, but I can’t think of anything else.

The little fragments of memories that flash in my head don’t make any sense, but they’re all I have to try and piece together last night.

I see my destroyed birthday cake, a cold shower, and me falling asleep crying.

Then I feel rope or tape, and my eyes are covered. I feel myself being bound and crying on my bed.

No, this can’t be…

Was I kidnapped?

No, I have to still be dreaming, but you don’t hurt in your dreams, and my arm is throbbing, as well as my wrists and my head.

When I lift my arms, I see deep red marks on my wrists from the tape or rope that I now realize I couldn’t have imagined.

My imagination isn’t good enough to make up the pain I’m feeling.

I sink down onto the floor in the closet and rest my head on my knees.

This can’t be…

When I hear the jingle of keys, I snap out of my pity party and crawl in between the layers of clothes, hoping it’s enough to shield me from whoever is about to walk in.

“Ma petite fleur, you can come out now; I won’t hurt you.” I hear.

That is Leon…

I don’t even know what to say, but I know I don’t believe that he won’t hurt me.

I think that ship sailed when I woke up, possibly drugged with rope marks around my body in a room that I can’t leave on my own.

I hear him take a lap around the room. I was confident that he wouldn’t be able to find me, but he did, and far too quickly.

Leon pushes the clothes aside and stares down at me with a raised eyebrow. “What are you hiding from?” He asks calmly.

I want to kick him.

I want to kick him in his perfect face and make a run for it.

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