As some of you pointed out Alex still hasn't made an appearance, but it was still Sam's first night there and I didn't think the timing was quite right. I have a very specific idea of how they're going to meet and I'm excited to say that it is happening in chapter eight, which is written and downloaded so no one has to wait after chapter seven! PLEASE don't skip ahead! Read ch. 7 first! Thanks to kate5 for being my 20th reviewer!

Chapter Seven

THIRD PERSON

Mr. Farrow tripped lightly up the stairs, up one set and then another until he was fifteen stories high. His black leather shoes moved across the carpet; passing door after door he glanced neither left nor right. Suddenly the hall forked off into two different directions, the man turned left without hesitation and continued on. The hall he now traversed didn't split as the others had, but simply ended, a wall blocking him from further travel. As Farrow came closer and closer to the wall his frown deepened, yet he did not slow his pace until he was almost upon the barrier. When he was just a foot away he stopped and turned his head to the right, and stared at the alcove that lay in front of him. A leafy green plant had made its home there, atop a tall thin wooden table. Mr. Farrow's brow furrowed, as he stared at the vegetation. Any passerby would have thought that he was attempting some sort of trick and would have waited, perhaps, in hopes that the plant might begin to levitate, or even burst into flames. Nothing of the sort happened, of course, Farrow continued to gaze at the plant and the plant in turn sat dutifully in its potted soil. After what seemed a day, the man slowly closed his eyes; letting out a sigh he ran a hand over his face: a vain attempt to smooth away the lines of frustration and anger that had formed there. Opening his eyes once more Jonathan moved the table and plant away from the niche to reveal a small golden ring bolted to the middle wall. Grasping the handle he slowly pulled. A low rumbling sound of stone upon stone could be heard as the wall became a door and Jonathan walked inside.

The room he entered into was large and dim. There was a window, though hardly any light crept through it, for night had already come and the moon was blocked by clouds. Two very small lights were on, but pushed onto a table in the corner, only enough light to make out objects and shapes, not colors or faces. Jonathan came to the middle of the room and faced the backs of two armchairs that had been placed in front of a fast empty fireplace, ash still clinging to its grate. A dark figure sat in one of them and this is who Jonathan now addressed.

"I've had enough of this." Jonathan said without preamble, "It's been a week already and you haven't spoken two words to that girl. She's still under the pretence your sick, it's ridiculous."

If Jonathan expected an answer from the figure he received none, only silence met his words.

"How long do expect to keep this up?" He demanded, "She's not stupid you know, she's going to figure it out eventually, and when she does she's going to want answers."

At this Jonathan stopped short, his breathing as loud as a maelstrom in the quiet room. A little more softly he added, "You can't just sit in here, alone, while she wanders the house week after week. Sooner or later you have to do something." Running a hand through his hair, he began to move back the way he came, but stopped suddenly and turned to look at the figure once more. "Either you tell her or you send her home. If you don't, then I will." And with that, he walked out, and shut the door.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

SAMANTHA

I stepped out of my room, yawning. I had finally gotten over my jet lag, thank God. It was so nice to be able to fall asleep without your head telling you it was really two in the afternoon. Walking downstairs I headed to the dining room for breakfast, it was hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls today. While I chewed, I thought about the various ways I could waste time. A week had passed since I'd come and there was still no sign of Alex. Not wanting to think of this too much, I pushed it out my head, and considered other things. The house didn't have too many rooms set up with entertainment in mind, many rooms I came to had only chairs and books, and while I had spent the first few days reading, it wasn't something that I could do forever. But just yesterday I had found a music room with a grand piano right in the center, and the day before: a swimming pool. None of these ideas seemed quite right though and I finally decided that fresh air was what I really needed.

It felt good to be outside; sitting down next to the pond by my window I took off my shoes and slipped them into the water. The heat of the sun on my face balanced with the coolness of the water felt so nice, I closed my eyes and lay back on the grass. Ten minutes passed as I lightly dozed, a small breeze flew through the trees and down into my hair. Listening to the whisper of the leaves I suddenly opened my eyes. Somebody was watching me. I sat up swiftly and turned around, no one. Looking up at the house I saw a curtain move out of the corner of my eye but as I turned to look I saw that the window held no occupant. I stared at the house quizzically, like I could will whoever had been there to come back again. Standing up I brushed the grass off my jeans and grabbed my shoes, heading back towards the house. The window had been on the fifteenth floor, I didn't have anything better to do so I decided to go up and investigate.

Finally making it all the way up, I stopped for a minute to catch my breath. I was really starting to hate stairs. Moving down the hall I began counting the rooms until I came to the twelfth one, the one with the stranger in the window. Grabbing the doorknob I was happy to find it wasn't locked. I seemed to face that predicament with many of the doors I came to here; I figured a lot of them were just more sitting rooms, but another part of me wondered if they were locked for some other reason. There weren't any surprises to be seen here though, just cream colored couches and chairs with mahogany wood. I gave an exasperated sigh and looked above the fireplace at a painting of a beautiful blond woman wearing a sparkling blue dress. She was holding a small bouquet of white flowers in her hand and smiling impishly. "I don't suppose you saw anything did you?" I asked the lady, sarcastically.

"Miss Miller?" I swiveled around quickly and saw Jonathan standing in the doorway. "Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, uh, nobody." I said, blushing violently. "I was just… looking… at something."

"Hmm," He said, and glanced up at the woman's portrait. "Lunch is ready if you're hungry." Jonathan said, looking back down at me before he turned and left the room. I peeked back at the window once more, hoping to see something that had slipped my notice before. But nothing had changed.

I wasn't very hungry, I always woke up late, jet lag or no; but I didn't have anything better to do so I went back down to the dining room. This was becoming monotonous. All I ever did was wander around this stupid house by myself with nothing to do, traveling from room to room until finally the day was over and I went back to yet another room and ate. I felt like an animal, stuck in a cage. I wanted to do something, anything, to change the routine; but couldn't see how. I just kept wandering around. The thought of Alex was always in the back of my mind when I did this, hoping beyond hope that I might "accidentally" bump into him. But this never happened. I sat down and reached for the juice, not even bothering to see what was on my plate, but stopped. A note sat in front of me, propped up slightly by the stem of my glass. The name "Samantha" was written out in smooth cursive on the envelope. Turning the note over I ripped it open looking at the signature on the bottom I saw it was from Alex and started to read it anxiously.

Dear Sam,

I'm sorry you haven't been able to see much of me this past week…

I snorted, that was an understatement if I ever heard one.

…but I realized very soon after your arrival that your coming here was a mistake. I'm sorry to have dragged you all the way down here on a whim. But I think it's best if you simply went back home. I'm sorry Samantha.

-Alex

I looked down at the paper, shocked, whatever I had expected it wasn't this. Who did he think he was? He invites me all the way down to his stupid house, doesn't even have the decency to see me and then basically tells me to shove off without even a wave goodbye. I checked the back of the note, looking for a sign that this was all just a practical joke, albeit a very cruel one. Nothing...inside the envelope… nothing. Not even a plane ticket for the ride home! This was unbelievable. I crumpled the paper with my fist and stormed out of the room. If he thought he could treat me like some kind of plaything; pick me up and then throw me back down again when he was bored he had another thing coming. I stomped upstairs, determined to find him. Confront him and… I don't know yell at him, most likely. I opened doors at random on various floors, slamming them closed again when I didn't find him.

After half an hour I retreated back to my room, tired and frustrated. I dropped down onto my bed and rubbed the heels of my palms over my eyes. I didn't understand it! Alex and I were friends, we had been for two years. Why did he suddenly have this great need to get away from me? If he didn't like me, fine, but could he have maybe figured that out before I travelled three thousand miles to visit him? Well, I wasn't leaving, not until I spoke to him face to face at least; and if my presence was such an nuisance to him, all the better, if he was going to be spiteful and unpleasant, than so was I.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, wallowing in my bad mood. I didn't go down to dinner either; I was too upset to be hungry. What's more a little part of me was nervous that if I did go down someone would be waiting there to escort me out the door. At eight I heard someone knock quietly outside my room. Maybe Alex had come after realizing I wouldn't be so easily moved. I walked slowly to the door, the more he had to wait for me, the better. "Who is it?" I called out in a voice I knew was rather on the snobbish side, but was too annoyed to care.

"Jonathan, Miss." A muffled voice answered. My expression fell, hoping that he hadn't come to forcibly kick me out I opened the door.

"Yes?" I asked with a sigh.

"I-"Jonathan began, but my expression must have given me away because he stopped abruptly and asked, "What's the matter Miss Miller?"

As I formed a curt reply in my head I saw a look of true confusion in Mr. Farrow's face. Maybe… maybe he didn't know? But that was impossible, how could he not know? I had gotten the impression that he was sort of Alex's right-hand man in this place. I crossed my arms in front of me and looked at him skeptically before speaking.

"Perhaps it's because of the letter I received today."

Jonathan looked even more confused. "Letter?" he replied quizzically.

I dropped my hands to my sides and my eyes widened. He wasn't joking, he had no idea what had gone on today. I stared at him. "You really don't know?"

"Miss Miller I'm sure it would become clearer to me if you simply told me." He said bluntly. I looked down at my shoes.

"Alex sent me a letter today saying that…" I swallowed and felt tears suddenly begin to well up in my eyes. Don't you dare cry I said to myself and took a small breath before going on. "…saying that he didn't want me in the house anymore. That I should leave." I heard Jonathan suck in a breath quietly, and looking up noted that his expression was, while not exactly livid, not as calm as it had been a couple seconds ago.

"May I see the note?" He asked, and I could tell he was trying hard to keep his voice composed. I went back into my room and picked it up from where it had fallen after I had thrown it down in disgust. Returning I handed it to Jonathan and watched as he scanned its contents. He stared thoughtfully at the note for several moments after he finished reading, as I had.

I broke through his reverie and said, "You know I'm beginning to question whether Alex even exists or not." He looked up from the paper and smiled wryly.

"Oh, no, he exists Miss Miller."

A new thought popped into my head, "And, you're not him… are you?" I asked, feeling foolish.

Farrow's eyes widened in shock, "What do you mean?"

"It's just, you're the only one I've ever seen around here and I was starting to wonder…" I babbled, heat rising to my cheeks.

"If I had some sort of personality disorder?" He finished for me. "Miss Miller, I assure you, you are not in some sort of Hitchcockian thriller." He smiled wryly. "Mr. Thompson and I are both completely separate individuals, mentally and physically." I gave him an apologetic smile, as he returned the note to me. I glanced at it before I spoke again.

"Then why hasn't he seen, me? Why didn't he have the decency to at least come and explain to me why I'm suddenly being kicked out? Why…" Mr. Farrow interrupted my string of questions.

"I think," he said slowly, "that these are questions that only Mr. Thompson can answer."

I was at once completely alert. "Then, you'll show me where he is?" I asked, suddenly hopeful once more. He nodded, his mouth set firmly.

"Come with me." He said, and I followed him down the hall.

If anyone cares: The painting of the woman Sam sees in the beginning of this chapter is modeled somewhat off of the famous painting of the Empress Elizabeth of Austria, with some slight changes of my own. But the posture is the same for both.