Page 28 of Split

After what feels like an eternity, I finally gather up the courage to chance another peek, but the shadow’s gone.

When Clara arrives with my breakfast in the morning, I hand her a slip of paper containing my list as I take my seat. I wrote it out last night, trying to keep it short to increase the odds of all the items on it being fulfilled.

My phone.

My laptop.

My vintage Givenchy bag.

“What’s this?” Clara asks as she takes it from me hesitantly, eyes dropping to read the words scrawled on the paper.

“Roman said to put together a list of things I need from home,” I reply, reaching for my coffee cup as I amend, “from my father’s house.”

She nods slowly, tucking it into the pocket of her dress. “I’ll be sure to get it to him.”

“Thanks,” I say as I raise the cup to my lips, not hesitating to take a sip. I have no idea how the coffee around here is always the perfect temperature, but I’m appreciative that at least something about this hostage situation is playing out in my favor.

Since that horrible lunch I spent on my knees, I’ve mostly managed to avoid my husband, save for our nightly meals in the dining room. Each night, I’ve dressed to the nines and played my part while bracing myself for his worst, but he’s either been preoccupied with business matters or he’s finally grown bored of this cat and mouse game. I doubt I’m lucky enough for it to be the latter, but a girl can dream. And either way, I much prefer dining in relative silence to the alternative.

Clara goes about setting out my clothes and tidying the room as I sip my coffee, picking at a piece of toast and spreading scrambled eggs around my plate until it looks like I’ve made an effort to eat something. Then I take the little white bag of dog biscuits off the tray and stash it in the pocket of my cardigan before taking a shower and getting dressed to go outside. As sadas it is, the dogs are my only friends around here. Bringing them their morning treat is the highlight of my day.

As soon as I step out the front door of the manor and whistle for them, Nox and Vesper come trotting around the side of the house, wagging their stubby little tails.They’veadapted to our routine, too. I drop to my knees and ruffle their fur, the pair of them licking my face as my eyes well up with tears and an unexpected sob tears from my throat.

I need these gentle, affectionate touches far too much. Despite my continued exploration of the manor and grounds, I haven’t made any progress in my escape plans, and a bitter sense of hopelessness is beginning to take root deep in my soul. Ihatethis place. Ihatemy husband. I want to go home, but truthfully, I hated itthere, too. I have nothing and nobody in this world, and the loneliness of it all is starting to swallow me up.

“Good boys,” I praise as I turn my face into the side of Nox’s thick neck, muffling another sob. “Such beautiful, sweet babies.”

I allow myself to wallow for a few more seconds, then shove all that overwhelming despair to the back of my mind, locking it in a box and throwing away the fucking key.I can’t give up.I’ve only been here a week, and what’s that in the grand scheme of things? Iwillescape, and someday, this place and the people in it will all just be a distant memory.

If only I could take my good boys with me when I go.

“I know what you want,” I sniffle as I rock back on my heels, digging a hand into the pocket of my sweater. The dogs’ tails wag harder when I brandish the little paper bag, feeding each of them two of the four treats inside. Then I rise to my feet, brushing the crumbs off my hands as I watch them lick their chops. “Fun’s all over, fellas,” I say apologetically, giving each animal one more pat. “Wanna explore with me today?”

They pant and wag their tails, which I take as a yes.

“C’mon,” I laugh, waving for them to follow as I make my way across the lawn toward the towering hedges on the west side of the property.

I’ve attempted exploring the hedge maze for the past two days, but the thing is… well, amaze. It’s disorienting being surrounded by walls of greenery twice my height with endless twists and turns. It’d probably be a whole lot smarter to figure out how to get back into that tower and study the maze from above, but after what happened up there last time, I’m not in any rush to get caught trying to break in. So here I go, bound to get lost in the shrubbery for the next several hours.

At least I’ve got the dogs for company. They stick close to my side as I enter the maze and begin walking the paths, and though it occurs to me that with as relaxed as they are, they probably know the way out, neither of them respond when I ask them to show me the way. I make a fool out of myself by clapping my hands against my knees and using an embarrassing baby voice while urging them to lead me there, but they just tilt their heads and whine. Vesper even yawns and lays down, like he’s over my hysterics. As soon as I start walking again, though, he sure as shit gets up and starts following.

I try to memorize each turn I make, keeping track in my mind with a chorus ofright, left, right’s, but as soon as my thoughts start to drift, I forget the sequence. And then I just wind up wandering aimlessly until I manage to find my way back to the start, stomping my feet on the ground like a petulant child and cursing under my breath. I pivot back around, considering taking another stab at it, but then my stomach grumbles and I end up just going back inside the manor for my regular lunch in the parlor.

After picking at my salad for an hour, I give up on eating, feeling listless as I start wandering the halls. I’ve now familiarized myself with all the rooms that have unlocked doors,so I try the ones that were previously locked just in case anything’s changed. It hasn’t, and I soon get bored of drifting around and head for the study. Maybe I’ll let the dogs in and curl up to read a book or something. Vesper makes a great pillow, and Nox’s excited little tail wags always brighten my mood.

As I cross the threshold of the study, my steps falter, breath hitching. Because I figured Roman was out today, but I was wrong– he’shere, resting upon one of the overstuffed sofas while scrolling on his phone.

I briefly consider just turning back around and leaving so I don’t have to deal with him. Then I remember that this ismyhome now, too, and if my presence makes him uncomfortable, then he’s free to leave.He’snot the one trapped here against his will.

Roman glances up when he hears the scuff of my footsteps against the floor, eyes flickering back down to his phone screen a half a second later. He doesn’t pay me any mind as I strut past him and start thumbing through the books on the shelves, passing up the classic literature in search of something more useful to my current agenda.

For a minute I forget he’s even in the room, until the abrupt sound of his thundering voice makes me jump.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Roman asks, not bothering to look up from his phone as he speaks.

I give him the same treatment, continuing my perusal of the titles on the shelves while keeping the boogeyman in my peripheral vision. “I’m looking for books about psychology.”

He lifts his head, quirking a brow in my direction.

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