Page 37 of Captive Bride

Isobel

Rain slams into the car, seeming to come from every direction at once.

Each drop hits the vehicle with a distinctive splatter, tiny explosions combining to create a dull roar.

I can barely think through the noise.

It cascades down the windows, completely obscuring my vision.

Just one more obstacle between me and freedom.

I stare hard at the shimmering droplets that slide freely down the glass, trying my best to look transfixed.

In reality, I hardly see them, my thoughts racing too fast to process their journey.

Besides, I’ve seen rain like this countless times.

I may have never danced in it or felt the thrill of jumping feet first into a puddle, but I’ve tracked its progress across glass. Many times.

I’ve watched others dance in it.

There’s little else to do when you’re a prisoner in your own home.

Eventually, the sight becomes tiresome, and you cease to even notice the weather. Weather, after all, only really affects those out in it.

Tonight though, I call to mind fascinations that have died, willing my face to pretend at distraction.

Really, I just can’t bear to look at anything else.

I can’t bring myself to confront my current situation.

Or them.

Tristan Montague has me captive. He and his friends from the ball.

The three of them ride along with me, voices occasionally sounding at the edge of my thoughts.

I pretend I can’t hear them, that they aren’t there.

I pretend that I am not here.

But I can feel their eyes on me just the same. Watching, examining. Tristan’s especially seem to pierce me.

My heart beats quickly in my chest.

My mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Most presently, I feel betrayal. Anger.

That my fleeting moment of hope should come from the hands of my enemy makes me feel ill.

The memory of his lips on my own tugs at me, trying to draw me back to that corner of the lobby. To the feeling of freedom that came so easily at his touch.

I know I don’t know him and that he owes me nothing, but my heart screams that he’s betrayed me in the most intimate of ways.

My stupid, stupid heart.

Tears threaten my eyes, stinging as I channel all of my strength into holding them back.

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