The soft glow of morning sunshine came through the gauze curtains on a warm, Saturday morning, and the cotton covers were pulled snugly underneath my chin. I turned onto my side and pulled my arms out; the warm, tangible summer breeze flowing over my bare breasts and stomach. I let my eyes fall closed again, because I could.

Then there was a knock at the door.

It felt like I hadn't gone to sleep, not because I was tired, but because I was very, very awake.

I turned my head to look at the large door from which the knock had originated; then there was another one, but this time more insistent.

Dragging my sore and dirty form across and off of the bed as silently as I could, I grabbed an appropriately ferocious candelabra from the nightstand and waited at the door.

This time it was just one one hard bang that caused me to flinch, the smooth weapon almost sliding out of my sweaty grip.

I was just about to try and take the safe road and open the door just a hair, when a deafening sound came through the door; like twenty pistons ramming against the seemingly now thin piece of lumber.

I scampered back until I fell against the bed, then clambered over that until I was cowering on the other side, holding the candelabra to my chest like a lifeline. The pounding only got louder, and I began to hear the very distinct sound of splintering wood.

I tried to level my breathing and go back to that summer day, in my house; with the gauze curtains and cotton sheets.

Cotton sheets...

Cotton...

Cotton gloves...

Oh, hell. I held up my end of the deal, and the creature can't leave for another 27 years. And I'll be damnedif I stay here that long.

Gripping the now warm metal until my knuckles turned white, I flung my self up, scrambled across the bed and flung the door open.

There was a tray.

A deep mahogany tray, with brass handles, carrying a small spelt roll and a glass of water.

I slammed the door, grabbed a chair from the corner, wedged it under the latch, and sat down on the bed.

I'm not sure how long I stared at the door, furiously fidgeting my leg and holding the candelabra to my chest, but the incessant banging did not return. And I couldn't hear anything beyond the door, no matter how hard I listened.

I bit my lip and chanced a look around the room.

The walls were a neutral Tuscan orange, and the bed was a high four poster but had no canopy. There was a large wardrobe, and behind me, on the other side of the bed was a lavish dressing table with a large mirror.

And above this there were curtains. A deep navy blue with gold stars.

I looked back at the door and listened one more time, before I awkwardly hooked one arm of the three-armed candelabra into my belt loop as I walked over to the dressing table.

Made of stained pine, and polished to a glossy finish, it looked like a sturdy enough piece; but the windows were small and at least 5 feet above the mirror. That was what I was worried about.

I climbed on top of the dresser and tentatively hoisted my foot up onto the edge of the mirror, which was barely an inch thick.

I was able to jump just high enough to grab the edge of the curtain and, to my surprise, pull myself the rest of the way up, just barely balancing on the edge of the mirror.

I tried to pull the curtains apart, but they wouldn't move. My brow furrowing I tried pulling on the side.

Nothing.

I tried wedging my fingers underneath the side, but it only bent my nail back, causing me to almost lose my balance.

I felt the middle of the curtain, and there was most certainly glass behind it. So either I was much more weakened than I thought, or this was something else's doing. It might have been both, but it was definitely the latter.

And I was tired. I was very tired.

I yanked harder. On the edge, on the middle, anywhere my fingers could grip. And each time one hand would slip just in time for the other to grab on.

I was grunting with the effort, and then the grunts turned to whimpers, and then the whimpers turned to screams.

"You fucking psychotic freak, let me out! let me out! let me out! let me out! let me OUUUUT!"

I screamed, and yanked, and clawed, and pulled until the glass underneath me shattered and my hands slipped from the fabric.

I landed hard on my side, a sharp pain shooting through my hand, but I barely noticed.

I scrambled up and over the bed, threw the door open, fell to my knees in the threshold, began devouring the roll, and choked after the second bite. Partly from being dehydrated but mostly from the sharp, unmistakable taste of metal.

I gagged and hurled the food across the hall, but my eye was quickly drawn to the red flowing down my wrist and my heart slowed down just a bit. I'd rather it be my own blood than someone else's, but that didn't mean I liked the taste.

I spotted the water, shotgunned it and hurled the glass across the hall.

I stared at the spot that the bread had landed. A small splat of blood on the stone wall above it. And the sparkling shards from the glass, shimmering slightly from the same unidentifiable light source that seemed to be everywhere, but most certainly did not come from the windows.

Looking down at the now empty tray, I saw a small, folded piece of paper that I was positive hadn't been there before. I, very gently, picked it up and unfolded it.

'Tick tock, tick tock, girly ~'

My eye twitched.

But then I thought of something; I reached into my back pocket, pulled out a red pen, and scribbled on the other side of the note, being careful not to drip blood on it.

'Why am I still here?'

I folded it so that my own message was on the inside, placed it back onto the tray and closed the door.

Waiting for what seemed like forever, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides, I all but threw myself at the door when the next knock came. And just like last time there was no one there.

But, there was another piece of paper:

'Come to me after you've cleaned up, and maybe you'll find out.

P.S. Look to your left'

I waited several moments before slowly turning my head to see another door; one that had not been there before.

And then a spot of white, just visible in my peripheral vision, caused me to turn around the rest of the way towards my bed, where the largest, most elaborate dress I had ever seen was laid.