Ok, so this chapter is a bit dark, but don't worry about it, things do get better and more romancey soon! Thanks to all of you who have added my story to your alert subscription- it makes me more determined to keep writing. I'm always writing more, but if I don't post soon it's because I'm saving chapters for when I can't write as often.

Enjoy:)

I knew it. I knew this was too good to be true. That's the thing about being trapped under the menacing law of Andre Bourgeois, especially when there are people like his daughter, Chloe, the one who condemned me to this fate of locked cell doors and life away from all humans.

It turns out, all they did was move me.

"We're moving you somewhere where it'll be nicer," they said.

"Where there are people like you," they said.

I know a lie when I hear one. I'm dragged back out of the van and forced to stand up. With a guard either side of me, I'm escorted to the doors.

The building I'm brought into looks quite harmless from the outside. Its walls are made from uniform slabs of bland grey concrete that stay, unmoving, unblinking, in neat rows. The concrete framing the grand wooden doors is simple and precisely sharp. Everywhere I look, I can see how much money and time has been spent on making this place look as extravagant and innocent as possible on the outside.

It sickens me.

I'm starting to believe them, that it could be nicer than before, when I'm pushed through the doors.

Never trust a beautiful place with a rotten core.

Now, I'm more scared than anything.

I'm so terrified I freeze on the spot, and I try, I try to scream for help, but my voice catches in my throat. Like someone is strangling my throat, my brain, my whole body, I can't do anything. Fear crawls from the floor and climbs up my body, festering inside my head until I'm scared senseless. I don't even realise that I'm crying until the guards shout at me.

"Save the waterworks for the best part 367."

Oh, at least they're using my name.

"Keep moving. Let's go."

And so, I'm being forced to walk through these halls of misery and terror. In front of me winds a long corridor to which I can't see the end to. The lighting is so dim, like all light and hope has been crushed from the walls and sucked from the inhabitants. The walls have been painted white years ago, and as I walk by my movement causes flakes to peel from the wall and fall to the floor, which is littered with rubble.

"Right on time, I see," a new voice, a male voice, says from behind me. I spin my head around to see a tall man with brushed back platinum blond hair and glasses. He looks pristine in his cream suit and black trousers, but there's a hint of danger in his eyes. That, I sense.

"Welcome, Marinette."

I am in shock.

"My name is Gabriel. We hope you enjoy your stay with us here, you'll find we've given you a cellmate. No, sorry, a roommate."

He smiles but his eyes don't.

I think I'm about to pass out.

Kindness? I'm almost tempted to laugh in his face and tell him to stop being nice to me. Since when was that allowed?

"If you'll please follow me."

We follow him as he briskly strides through the corridor, unflinching at the decay that is taking place around him. As I walk, I see tall oak doors lining the corridors. They don't scare me; it's the noises from inside that do.

I can hear the sound of hysterical laughter rippling from one door. Just as that quietens, I hear heaving sobs erupting from another room. Trying to shake off the noises, I keep walking, pacing, one foot forward, one foot forward. Just keep on going.

I hesitate and listen.

Crane my neck. Hope it isn't.

But it is.

I can hear the screaming.

Agonised cries, screaming and screaming until I think they can scream no more. And then they scream again. An ear-splitting, lung-bursting cry for help. I shiver as every hair on the back of my neck stands up.

A roommate, he said.

A roommate like this?

He said my name. He said my name. It'll be nice here, I tell myself. I think I must be lying.

Nevertheless, I keep following my host down into the corridor. After what seems like miles, we reach the end, the last oak door. I listen carefully, but inside seems to be deadly silent. A small part of me if filled with relief. I turn to face Gabriel questioningly.

"Yes, your roommate is already in there. He arrived here a few months ago because he did a very bad thing," Gabriel begins, a twisted smile playing at his lips. The look of confusion on my face must have been evident because Gabriel starts to laugh. A cold, merciless laugh.

My insides turn to ice.

Gabriel looks at the guards, who begin to laugh too. I don't find this funny at all. In fact, I'm quite terrified.

My world plunges to below zero.

"In fact, the reason your soldiers started treating you with more caution is because of the him," Gabriel continues, sneering.

I look down at my gloved hands. Then at the gloves of the guards. That's why they think I'm dangerous. Suddenly I feel like everyone is part of one big joke, one which I'm not privileged enough, not human enough, to understand. Right now, I don't want to laugh, I want to cry.

I want to curl up into a ball and be miles away, back home.

And then it hit me.

This is my home.

What I do next is very strange indeed. I speak.

"Wha- what did he do?" I ask, trying to stop my voice from trembling.

Gabriel leans in close to me, his eyes fixed on mine. It's like he can read the fear in my mind, like he can feel my emotions as if they radiate off of me.

"What did he do, you ask. Nothing much really, my dear," he pauses, and just as I sigh in relief he speaks again.

"Your roommate, Marinette, killed somebody."