Chapter 2: The Black Dress

The first sensation she registered was the throbbing pain in her head, followed by the dull ache that pulsed through her body. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting against the muted light filtering through a small, barred window high on the wall. She tried to move, but her muscles screamed in protest. The memories of yesterday's auction flooded back, the man that was in here with her…. What had happened? She couldn’t remember anything that happened after their short convo, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

She struggled to stand, her limbs stiff and uncooperative. The events of the previous night were a blur. The last clear memory she had was of the man that had an eerie shadow lurking around him— who was he?

Now, she was awake and aware, every fiber of her being adapted to the unfamiliar and ominous surroundings. She approached the door, testing the knob with a rapid unsettled hand. It was locked, as she had feared. She twisted it harder, pulling and pushing, but the door remained firmly shut. She began to panic, and she banged on the door, screaming for help. Her cries echoed through the cold, empty space, but no one answered.

Despair settled over her like a heavy cloak, and she sank to the floor, leaning against the unyielding door. Her breath came in rough gasps, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. She would not stay here; she refused to be a prisoner in this place. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart, when she heard footsteps approaching.

A calm voice broke the silence. It was a maid, she knew this because she wore a uniform and an apron over her. "You’ve been ordered to dress up in the dress there and be out in 10," she said as she pointed at a black dress hung on the other end of the room. The voice was dispassionate, almost robotic.

She looked over to where the maid had pointed and spotted the dress—a long, black gown adorned with silver glitters—lying neatly folded on a chair in the corner. She opened her mouth to respond, to ask questions, but before she could utter a word, she heard the footsteps retreating, leaving her alone once more.

She sat there, staring at the dress. It was beautiful, elegant even, but to her, it was just another shackle, another symbol of her captivity. She needed a plan, and she needed one fast. Once the door opened, she would make a run for it. She would find a way to escape this nightmare and start a new life far away from her father and the crazy man who had bought her.

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one a tiny eternity. She forced herself to stand, every movement reminded her of her aching body. She crossed the room and picked up the dress, feeling the soft fabric against her fingers. But she didn't put it on. Instead, she draped it over the chair and sat back down on the cold floor, her mind wandering with thoughts of escape.

She imagined the door opening and her bolting out, surprising the maid and anyone else who might be in the hallway. She would run as fast as her legs could carry her, not looking back. She pictured the corridors of the building, hoping there would be windows or doors leading outside. She could almost feel the fresh air on her face, the freedom just within reach.

But then reality set in. She had no idea what lay beyond this room. The building could be a deserted building, designed to keep her trapped. She had no shoes, no weapon, nothing to aid in her escape. The man who had bought her seemed powerful and resourceful; he would surely have measures in place to prevent her from fleeing.

Still, she refused to let go of hope. She might not know the layout of the building, but she could observe and plan. Every interaction, every detail could be a clue to her eventual escape. She would need to be patient, to bide her time and wait for the right moment.

Her thoughts drifted back to her father. Anger surged through her at the thought of him gambling away her life, reducing her to this desperate situation. She had been nothing but a pawn in his reckless games, a commodity to be sold when his debts became too great. But she was determined to reclaim her life. She would not be defined by his failures.

The room was silent, except for the faint sounds of the building settling and the distant murmur of voices she couldn't quite make out. She leaned against the door, straining to hear any useful information. The voices were muffled, indistinct, but she caught snippets of conversation now and then.

"Boss said..." one voice muttered, too low for her to discern the rest.

"She's up..." another voice said, the tone casual, almost bored.

She knew they were talking about her. It was unsettling, but she filed the information away. If they were watching her, it meant they might also let their guard down, believing her to be willing and broken.

Hours seemed to pass, and she remained seated by the door, her body tense and ready to spring into action. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant footstep sent a jolt of anticipation through her. But no one came. The door remained firmly shut, trapping her in this waiting game.

The sun outside her small window moved across the sky, its light shifting and changing as the day wore on. She wondered what time it was, how long she had been sitting there. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it, focusing instead on maintaining her resolve.

She would get out of here. She didn't know when or how, but she would. She envisioned herself slipping past her captors, finding her way to freedom. The thought of the open sky, the wind in her hair, and the possibility of a new life kept her going.

For now, she would wait. She would observe and listen, gathering every scrap of information she could. The dress lay on the chair, a reminder of the demands placed upon her, but also a symbol of her defiance. She wouldn't put it on, not yet. She had to hold onto some semblance of control, however small.

As the day grew on, casting long shadows across the room, she felt a grim determination settle over her. She was more than a pawn in someone else's game. She was a fighter, a survivor. And she would find a way to reclaim her life, no matter the cost.