Disclaimer: As before, all characters belong to Meg Cabot. But the plot is mine! YAY!
Yips. Yet another chapter out! This has been sitting around collecting dust for some time. But really, I still haven't been able to think of a good overall storyline. Anyone with ideas, please pm/email me, ok? Thanks!
For the third time that week—the first and second being the aftermath of too much drink—I woke up with a throbbing headache. I sat trussed up on a soft red plush chair nearly twice my size. I lifted my head, grimacing as a sharp pain shot through it, and gasped in surprise when I got a better look at my surroundings.
I was in a room richly decorated in white and gold. Heavy draperies hung across all four adjoining walls, and long strings of white beads dangled down, swaying gently with the breeze from the air conditioner. There was a large king-size bed next to the chair I was seated on; large, fluffy cushions sat plumped up on one end, on top of one of the softest-looking eiderdowns I had ever seen. Predictably, it was in a mix of white and gold, with the exception of an intricate black design sewn onto the quilt.
And lounging comfortably on the bed was Paul. He stared at me, checking me out in a way that made me feel not at all comfortable. It was close to three years since I had last seen him, and then it was only a fleeting glimpse at a reunion party hosted by an ex-classmate.
And the next time I see him, he's a killer? Oh boy. Lucky me.
"Where are we?" I tried to gauge his reaction to my question, hoping he might fumble in trying to cover up.
To my disappointment, he just grinned at me and said, "We're in the Room of Paradise. Which is where you'll be once I'm done with you, let me assure you. But before that…"
His words hung ominously in the air like a canopy of black clouds obscuring what little sunlight might have been shining down on me. I gulped, doing a rather good imitation of Uncle Scrooge's little nephews whenever they encounter big bad monsters. Or evil men, for that matter.
Paul slid slowly off the bed and advanced towards me. Using his knife, he sliced away my bonds and grabbed my arms. I squealed in pain and shock when he pushed—no, threw—me down onto the bed with no small amount of roughness.
His icy blue eyes glittered with lust, so intense that they seemed to cut right through me. I stared into them, unable to look away, close to losing my identity in those cold blue irises, as if some spell were winding itself around me, slowly stealing away all air and choking me.
I was so stunned that I didn't even try to resist when Paul leaned over me, casting a shadow over me. But then he moved his head down and his lips met mine. It was grotesque, like kissing blubber or a wet goldfish, especially considering the revolt I felt towards him.
As if sensing my disgust, Paul kissed me more insistently and tried to force my lips to open, which really IS as sick as it sounds. I flailed helplessly, trapped between his upper body and the bed. Just then, Paul made the mistake of relaxing his hold on me. I took immediate advantage of his lapse in attention by squirming out from under him and giving him a vicious backhand across the jaw.
Paul cried out, fell back and let loose a torrent of vulgarities.
Satisfaction flooded through me. Ahah! Not so cool now, are we?
Gripping his jaw in one hand, Paul moved across the bed and made a grab for my arm as I scrambled off. He missed by a mere fraction of an inch, swore again, and I ran. I noticed a door in one corner of the room and ran towards it. It was ornately carved with strange, evil-looking symbols. Not giving them a second thought, I rushed through.
Bad choice.
A long, straight corridor stretched out in front of me, so long that I couldn't make out the end of it. Who knows how far it continued on? However, it was too late to change my mind. I darted through the large doorway and slammed the door close behind me. Then I took a deep breath, hoped for the best, and ran full-out.
Paul crashed through a second later and took off after me.
Two minutes into the chase, my legs were on fire, and I knew I would not be able to go much further. My breathless, muttered prayers had done no good (which, come to think of it, makes sense, considering I'm not a devout Catholic, but where's God when you need him?); Paul was fast closing in on me.
And no, a magical door for me to escape through had NOT appeared out of thin air.
With Paul just seconds away—I could hear him pounding louder and louder down the corridor—I was fast running out of steam. I had nowhere to run, and it wasn't exactly possible to hide. I shuddered to think of what he might do to me if and when he caught me.
I heard a sudden click as I ran unknowingly onto several slabs of marked stone. This was followed by the harsh grating of stone from some unknown place. And all of a sudden, black mist rose up from around me, enveloping me in its thick, suffocating hold. Tendrils curled tantalizingly around my ankles, slowly dragging me down. The air hung heavy and moist around me, and I found it difficult to breathe. The last thing I heard was Paul's shout. "Suze!"
Then I sank to the floor as I drowned in the swirls of unconsciousness.
I hope this you all don't mind too much that I actually made Susannah faint again in this chapter. It's just what she has to do. So chill, ok? x)
Now review! And I just might post another chapter sometime soon… hahaha. Hope you like this!