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+--- Thread: Dangerous hands (/showthread.php?tid=46)
Dangerous hands - Kat - 12-21-2024
Warmth envelops her as she lay cocooned in the heavy duvet, in a bed three times the usual size, even for a king. Every inch of the mattress conforms to her body, no matter where she lays or how, and it's left her feeling like she's been sleeping on clouds for the night. The night. Suddenly, she's reaching to move the duvet off of her and unfurl herself. She's stopped short in her goal as she reaches up with both hands and tries to separate them, but they're.. tied together?! She shoves her hands—now balled up fists— forward to push the blanket off of her, scrambling to see her feet and a breath of relief rolls off of her tongue as she sees them not bound together like her hands. "What..in the.. fuck". she begins to mumble, before turning her pitch to a whisper. She scrambles up from the bed, scampering over to a large window shrouded by dark draping curtains. She uses a foot and her hands to shove one of them to the side. Outside, snow covered a dark forest of trees while both the moon and sun were at a war in the skies, the sun just barely crawling into the sky as the moon still shone. It's still dark, or it was dark again.. and a again.. how fucking long had she been here? She glances down at her clothes, still in the same clothes she remembered going out in; they now lacked the skin tight appearance as if she's been in them for longer than a few hours out. Then, she whirls around, glancing back to the bed that she was in, after she lingers on the massive bed for moment she finally glances around. There's a tidiness that rivals even the neatest of neat freaks, like everything had a place and a place for a reason and hasn't been touched since being there.
She shakes her head, trying to piece together what happened but just runs into mind blocks after mind blocks past showing up to the party her colleagues dragged her out to. She carefully evaded the small detail her father had on her as a negotiation for living life outside of his shadow, which might also explain how she ended up here—wherever here was.
She walks back over to the bed, stopping in her tracks as she hears and feels a quiet rustling that sounds like paper. It takes a second but she soon realizes it's a piece of thick paper taped on only two sides now on her chest, just above the deep cut neckline of her shirt. She doesn't hesitate to rip the duct-taped paper off of her with tied up hands. Her jaw clenches and she starts to crumble it in her hands, until she realizes she should see what it says. She walks it over to the bed and flattens it out the best she can, the hand writing a scribbled mess but reads: "Maddox, I thought a gift would put you in good spirits, tried leaving a message (alot of messages actually) on your phone but you didn't answer?? D I C K. Anyways, here's one from mum and dad's cute little list—she should be asleep by the time you get back still." with a smiley face planted by a not-so-unfamiliar name scribbled at the end. Elias. She only knows one infuriating waste of space by that name, who's handwriting reminds her of a toddler being forced to learn to write a letter like they're an adult. She remembers seeing it because she spent four fucking years being pestered by the same type of notes left on her dorm room door, then her apartment, and occasionally her own notes from her time spent at Oxford.
"Fucking creep" she blurts as she grabs the paper in her hands, ready to throw it away from her in a ball as she hears a few clicks coming from the bedroom door across from her. Her heart drops to her stomach and her breathing stops. Slowly and quietly, she darts around the bed, hands lowered to the front her to help jeep balance as she runs to a small space between the door and the armoire next to it. She tucks herself in quietly, making herself as small as possible and readies herself—readies herself to lunge at whoever the fuck Maddox is, or maybe even Elias was here to check on her, and wrap her arms around their neck and suffocate them the second they stepped past the door. Her breaths are quiet but her heart is still hammering, her hands fisted tightly infront of her, still tied because she didn't have the wits to cut herself free just yet unfortunately. She hears the door knob twisting, and hears a subtle push of the door and she stills completely, waiting for her moment. In the same moment, she's glancing forward near the bed, where her boots from her night out are placed neatly at the foot of the bed. Fuck. Her hesrt does a roller coaster drop back to her stomach but she steadies herself, maybe she can use the slight distraction to her advantage. Now, she just waits.