Yay! Thank you so much for the review! Seeing it really made my day. In case anyone else has been wondering; Hanna was basically transported into the 1880s, in her own body - not Christine's.
Hanna remained uncertain about the duration of her slumber. However, it had been extensive enough for her to initially perceive the discomfort in her back upon awakening. With a subdued groan, she pried open her eyes and recoiled in startled bewilderment. Where was she? Frantically, she raised her head from the support of her hands, resting on the bed, and surveyed her surroundings.
Recollections of yesterday's events caught up with her, prompting another anguished moan from Hanna. In a state of mental fogginess, she vigorously rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, striving to gather her thoughts with clarity.
The sequence of events between her attempt at past life regression and the harrowing near-drowning had slipped from her memory. She raised a hand to her head and delicately explored her skull with her fingertips, searching for any evidence of a bump or potential injury. Yet, her search yielded nothing. Admittedly, there existed alternative scenarios: She may have been intentionally induced into a trance-like state, facilitating an effortless abduction. Alternatively, as frequently depicted on television, she might have been subliminally instructed during her trance to forget everything upon awakening.
Hanna briskly slapped her cheeks, immediately tinting them with a flush despite her meager force. Her gaze went towards the unknown individual who was still soundly asleep, eliciting yet another sigh from her. She could only hope that he knew how to get off this island, assuming he managed to survive at all. His appearance did not exude vitality, characterized by sunken and pallid cheeks, further intensifying her concern.
Hanna studied his appearance, paying more attention to it than did yesterday after her shrieking when finding him unconscious. The man with black hair possesses an intriguing and enigmatic appearance. His hair, as dark as the night sky, fell in thin waves, creating a striking contrast against his pale complexion. The ebony strands glistened subtly when touched by light, adding an alluring sheen to his overall visage.
However, it is his skull-like face that captivates attention. His facial structure exudes an air of mystery, as if he bears secrets from time immemorial. The contours of his skull are distinct, showcasing prominent cheekbones and a strong jawline, lending an angularity to his features. Most strikingly, where a nose would typically reside, there is instead a void, a testament to a past shrouded in mystery or perhaps a unique condition that has left him without this defining facial feature.
Summoning her resolve, Hanna propped herself up and extended a finger towards the cavity where a nose would typically reside. Her finger grazed the touch of breath, causing a shudder to ripple through her. Okay, he was still alive. He lay in the bed motionless, not flinching as she observed him. While straightening the covers, she noticed that he was still dressed exactly as she had found him: a shirt with a high, stiff collar and even a tailcoat. Hanna nibbled on her lip, a habit of hers, as she stared down at him.
Surely, she didn't want to touch his body any further, as he was a stranger, and certainly she didn't want to undress him. But what other option did she have? He had to be freed from that tailcoat and suffocating shirt. She had been so trapped in her own thoughts and physically exhausted yesterday that she hadn't even noticed. He probably still had his shoes on, too.
Decisiveness surged within Hanna as she folded back the bedcover and removed his clothing, mindful of minimizing any superfluous movements. Upon completion, she found relief in seeing that he still wore an undershirt, albeit exposing his lengthy, sinewy arms to the chilly air. Satisfied, Hanna tucked the covers back over him and followed her suspicion. And indeed, he was wearing shoes... in bed! Hanna wrinkled her nose as she loosened the laces and pulled on his leg to remove the shoe. When that was done as well, she returned to the small bathroom, washed her hands, and prepared another cold compress to place it on his forehead, which was still burning with fever.
Pleased with her own accomplishments, Hanna made her way to the opposite end of the room, where her clothing had been lying sodden on the floor since the previous day. With arms outstretched, she raised the garments and disappeared into the living room. Adjacent to a sofa and a chaise longue, an intricately built fireplace adorned the wall. Although currently dormant, an ample supply of wood and kindling lay within easy reach. After several attempts, Hanna succeeded in kindling a fire within the hearth. Before long, the frigid air permeating the house would dissipate, providing her with a venue to dry her belongings.
Returning to the lakeshore, where she intended to wring out her saturated garments, Hanna became aware of an unexpected weight within her trousers. Hastily, she unfastened the zippers of her pockets and extracted her slim wallet, smartphone, and house key. Prioritizing her smartphone, she ascertained its functionality. The screen illuminated upon touch, yet Hanna remained cognizant of its prolonged immersion in water. Determined to avoid any potential irreparable damage, she made the prudent decision to power it down. Drying the device would be imperative before any future attempts at usage. Subsequently, she would proceed to contact Marie, or, more judiciously, the emergency services.
Turning her attention to her wallet, Hanna discovered the banknotes thoroughly damp, yet remarkably intact. Her identification card, bank card, and even the banknotes themselves had remained unscathed. A perplexed furrow etched itself onto Hanna's forehead. The absence of any attempts to pilfer her money, bank card, or smartphone intrigued her. While hesitant to inadvertently embolden her captors, the question lingered: Why would they go through the trouble if they held no interest in absconding with any valuables?
Perplexed by the situation, Hanna meticulously retrieved her belongings and carried them back into the house. She draped the damp clothing over the nearby wooden chairs, strategically positioned by the fireplace. Moving with purpose, she made her way to the unfamiliar kitchen. There, she diligently searched the cabinets for sustenance. To her surprise, the stranger had managed to stock some edible items, and the pantry held preserved vegetables and fruits. However, a putrid stench emanated from decaying meat and spoiled dairy products, prompting a wave of disgust to wash over Hanna. With fingertips barely touching the mold-infested items, she swiftly removed them from the kitchen and disposed of them in the depths of the lake.
Having completed her task, Hanna rewarded herself with a cup of tea and a modest porridge concocted from water, oats, and salt. Though lacking in appeal, the simplicity and speed of preparation were essential to curb her hunger pangs. Stirring in two teaspoons of sugar, she reluctantly sweetened the tea before consuming it with haste. Soon after, she retreated to the bedroom, carrying a bowl of porridge that she had embellished with some of the preserved vegetables. Recognizing the dire need for nourishment, Hanna was willing to compromise her own dietary preferences in order to facilitate the stranger's recovery.
Carefully assessing the available food supplies, Hanna made calculations. Anticipating the stranger's awakening within a few days at the latest, she estimated an additional two days would be required to ensure a safe departure from the island. The remaining provisions would need to be sufficient for their sustenance during this period. Reflecting on the prospect of consuming two meals per day, one of which would consist of flavorless porridge, Hanna couldn't help but emit a humorless laugh. "What a dietary regimen," she mused wryly.
Positioning herself by the man's bedside, she gently propped up his upper body, intending to offer him a drink of water. However, as he emitted a pained groan in response to her movement, Hanna froze, her hand suspended in mid-air, still in contact with his back. Her breath quickened, and her heart skipped a beat as another anguished moan escaped his lips. Squinting her eyes in anticipation, she slowly reopened them, only to be met with the piercing gaze of two wide-open, golden eyes. Startled and taken aback, Hanna let out an involuntary shriek of alarm, swiftly retreating from the chair she had occupied.
"Qui es-tu(Who are you)" he hissed vehemently, the words escaping his lips. Hanna, now positioned at the opposite end of the room, pondered silently. Why did he address her in such a manner, using a language other than German? Although she comprehended his query, thanks to her rudimentary knowledge acquired during her scholastic years, she remained perplexed as to why he refrained from conversing in the German tongue.
"Réponds! (Answer!)" he demanded, his voice quivering, his countenance distorted by both wrath and agony. "I-I'm Hanna," she replied, employing the German language, yet echoing in French, "Je suis Hanna." Her response failed to satiate the enigmatic individual; instead, he emitted a scornful chuckle. "Eine Deutsche (A German)." He spoke with a subtle accent, but Hanna found relief in his usage of the German language, thus sparing her from resorting to her feeble grasp of French.
She yearned to voice her thoughts, but in that moment, the stranger emitted an almost primal scream, his hands swiftly finding their way to his face, tracing the contours of his emaciated visage. "You diabolical creature! Where is my mask? Where have you hidden it, you thieving wench!" In the throes of his furious outburst, he endeavored to rise, reaching out towards her. Startled, Hanna recoiled, her gaze fixated upon him in sheer panic, her body rooted to the spot. Yet, the stranger's feeble physique denied him the necessary vigor, causing him to collapse upon the floor with a resounding thud. Writhing in pain, his sinews convulsed as he endeavored to support himself.
"There was no mask," Hanna whispered, her body still transfixed, her heart racing within her chest, her veins coursing with fervor, her head spinning lightly. Then, with a swift pivot on her heel, she hastened from the chamber. Oh lord! she exclaimed inwardly. Whom had she chanced upon yesterday? Oh, heavens! With such tempestuous temperament, she would soon find herself enmeshed within one of those chilling true crime stories. Hanna fanned herself, the memory of those wrathful, golden orbs, brimming with a desire to rend her living flesh, still vivid in her mind. What had possessed her, she mused, to be so naïve! With a touch more force than required, she pressed her palms against her flushed cheeks.
Taking a deep breath to regain composure, she reminded herself of her current advantage. He, the stranger, remained enfeebled. If need be, she could render him unconscious and securely fasten him to the bed. All he needed to do was disclose the means by which they could depart this place! Filled anew with determination and fortified resolve, she resolved to reenter the chamber when his words reverberated in her mind. Mask?
She proceeded in the opposite direction, heading towards the room where she had discovered him unconscious the previous day. Once inside, she ignited several candelabras, allowing the room to be bathed in a soft glow. Now, she could fully take in the sight before her. It was a room that evoked both fear and awe—an organ dominated an entire wall, its somber presence amplified by the black draperies that adorned the surrounding walls. Despite the illumination provided by the flickering candlelight, the room remained enveloped in darkness, its ambiance absorbing any hint of brightness.
Hanna gracefully traced her fingertips along a dresser, her gaze never leaving the grandeur of the organ. Drawn inexorably towards it, she approached the colossal instrument, its presence unlike anything she had ever witnessed outside the confines of a sacred space. The sheer magnitude of the organ filled her with reverence, and she soon found herself standing at its base. Who, she pondered, would have an organ of such magnitude within their personal quarters? Shaking her head, she couldn't help but be amused by the thought.
Observing the various musical instruments and scattered sheet music that adorned the room, as well as the antique furnishings and archaic garments, she couldn't help but be captivated by the stranger's intriguing hobby and his apparent detachment from the world. Hanna, to some extent, envied his resolute determination to retreat from society and lead a secluded existence on this remote island. Yet, another thought suddenly crossed her mind—perhaps he had been left with no alternative. It served as a stark reminder of her purpose for being in this room: the missing mask.
Casting one final glance at the organ, her eyes then scanned the room, searching for any trace of the mask that had provoked such vexation in the enigmatic man. Was it possible that he had secluded himself from the outside world due to his appearance? Hanna couldn't help but indulge in her curiosity, allowing her mind to wander into the realm of speculation.
Lost in her thoughts, she ventured towards the center of the room, where opulent curtains concealed a bed. With a sharp intake of breath, she grasped the black velvet drapes and pulled them aside, only to be confronted by an object that sent a shiver down her spine—a coffin lay before her feet.
Very well, what manner of role-playing game was this individual engaged in? Did he possess a penchant for gothic aesthetics and immerse himself in a realm akin to Count Dracula's within this secluded island? Hanna squinted her eyes as she meticulously scrutinized the cushioned sarcophagus. Kneeling down, she delicately traced her fingers along the crimson upholstery. A blanket draped halfway over the coffin, while a small black pillow nestled within its confines. Undoubtedly, he slept here.
However, the question persisted in Hanna's mind: why? Her thoughts drifted back to the grandeur of the bedroom, where the enigmatic figure reclined upon a spacious and opulent bed. The rationale behind his choice eluded her comprehension. Her hand continued to glide over the supple fabric, and she cast a cautious glance over her shoulder to confirm her solitude. Emboldened, she ventured to climb into the coffin, lying on her back. Folding her hands upon her abdomen, her gaze fixated upon the intricately adorned ceiling.
Undeniably comfortable, yet the confines of the coffin failed to accommodate the necessary freedom of movement conducive to a restful slumber. Nonetheless, Hanna mused, the experience proved worthwhile. "Enough with the testing," she mused to herself, mustering the strength to raise herself from within the coffin, its egress proving somewhat arduous. During her ascent, her attention was drawn to an ebony object lying inconspicuously amidst the darkness of the nearby curtains.
Curiosity piqued, she approached the object, lifting it delicately into her hands. It was a mask, his mask. Enveloping nearly the entirety of his countenance, save for the area surrounding his mouth. Two eyeholes granted visibility, while the mask curved upwards in the region of the nose, insinuating a feature absent in his visage. A simple yet effective elastic band facilitated effortless donning and removal of the mask.
Without pausing for contemplation, she slipped on the mask. It was impolite of her to don his mask without seeking permission, and furthermore, she had intruded upon his abode, unabashedly taking advantage of his unoffered hospitality. Moreover, even if she had, either she no longer regarded the entire situation with gravity, dismissing it as unreal, or she appraised her odds of survival following an abduction and crossing paths with an exceedingly tempestuous host as exceedingly meager. So be it. Succumbing to her impulsive urges, she drew the mask over her countenance.
The mask proved to be undeniably ill-fitting, despite the presence of an elastic band. Relentlessly, it slipped down her face, impeding her vision through its meager apertures even when she held it in a firm grasp. With a disappointed sigh, she removed the mask and gently grazed her thumbs across its material.
Curiously, it failed to bear the tactile attributes of plastic; thus, what substance could it conceivably be composed of?
Hanna nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders and exited the chamber once more. She had found what she sought. Lingering in his quarters no longer appealed to her. Given her insatiable curiosity, who knew what further discoveries lay in store? Conceivably, she might even stumble upon his private journal.
She delicately tapped on the door to the bedroom, patiently awaiting a response. Hanna lingered for a few moments, her impatience growing palpable as the she received no answer. Shifting restlessly from one foot to the other, she cautiously turned the doorknob and peered into the room. A surge of relief washed over her as her gaze settled upon the man, who had independently found solace in the bed and surrendered to undisturbed slumber. The contents of the bowl on the nightstand, as well as the accompanying glass of water, were empty.
Quietly, Hanna approached the bedside, gently placing the mask on the table. Retrieving the dishes, she promptly withdrew from the room. Only then did she realize that she had unwittingly held her breath throughout the encounter. Almost hurriedly, she made her way to the kitchen, conscientiously cleansing the tableware and drinking a cup of overly sweetened tea to quell her inner turmoil.
She had braced herself for the possibility of his wakefulness, expecting his wrathful outbursts and even the menacing reach of his grasp. Yet, fortuitously, none of those assumptions turned out to be true. Serenely did he repose in the bed, seemingly untouched by the tumult that had unfolded. Were it not for the empty vessel that once held porridge, she might have dismissed the recent happenings as mere figments of her own imagination.
After replacing some candles in the living room and adding fresh logs to the fireplace, Hanna retrieved a book from one of the shelves. Among them were classics, atlases, travelogues, scientific literature, and a plethora of other genres; in short, the stranger possessed a remarkably fine selection of books, rivaling that of a well-stocked bookstore.
The books on the shelves were not only organized by genre but also by author and language. Hanna randomly chose a book, an English-language novel. Though there were German books available, their selection strongly reminded her of her school days—Goethe's Faust being one example—and the association of demanding literature with somewhat negative memories made her steer clear of the German books.
Preferring to while away the time on the chaise longue with an English novel, she became engrossed in Henry James' book, captivated by a young lady's tale. However, she glanced at the large clock in the room and was startled by how late it had become. Hastily closing the book, she swiftly rose from the chaise longue and disappeared into the kitchen.
There, she discovered some rice in the pantry and soon found herself enjoying a vegetable rice soup. She spooned some applesauce from a preserved glass into a small separate bowl. She had to admit to herself that she was afraid. Her body trembled as she cautiously entered the room, carrying a wooden tray.
His gaze immediately fixated upon her, causing Hanna to freeze in her motion. Wearing his mask, he exuded an even more ominous aura than before. Devoid of any discernible facial expression, she could only perceive a pair of penetrating golden eyes that bore through her, accompanied by lips pressed into a thin line. Sitting upright in the bed, he remained silent, a brooding figure.
"I have prepared some soup," Hanna rasped, breaking the uneasy silence in an attempt to disrupt the palpable tension. With cautious steps, she approached him, setting the tray upon the chair next to the bed. Could he manage to eat on his own? Just as she contemplated retreating from the room, his voice pierced the air. "There is a glass containing willow bark in the kitchen." Perplexed by his remark, she regarded him with a questioning gaze. He sighed in response to her bewildered expression. "Kindly prepare a tea from it." His voice, though hoarse, revealed a captivating richness and allure that had eluded her until that moment. It felt almost akin to a comforting embrace.
Snapping herself out of her thoughts—comforting embrace?—she pressed her lips together, nodded, and swiftly departed from the room. Willow bark? Pondering over his intentions, she rummaged through the kitchen until her search yielded the glass housing the mentioned botanical. Extracting a portion of its contents, she poured hot water over it before returning to the bedroom, a cup in hand.
Her gaze fell upon the untouched tray. "You should eat. The soup will soon cool down," she gently suggested as she proffered him the cup of steaming tea. His cold, bony hands grazed against hers, eliciting an involuntary shiver that coursed down her spine. Instead of responding, he chose to drink from the cup, wordlessly absorbing its contents. It became apparent that he harbored no inclination to engage in further discourse once the cup was drained. Interpreting this as a tacit signal to grant him solitude, Hanna quietly retreated from the room.
Could she not have ended up at a more hospitable abode? Irritated, she ran her fingers through her tousled hair, which felt slightly tangled. She was in need of a bath. However, since there was only one bathroom located in the bedroom, she dismissed that thought.
She filled a bowl with rice soup for herself and devoured it eagerly. Her stomach yearned for more, but she had to economize, and thus, there was only a portion of soup available for each person. Groaning, she returned to the living room and collapsed onto the chaise longue. She reassured herself that the hunger would subside over time as she lay on her side.
Far more crucial was finding a way to depart from this island. With this determined thought in mind, Hanna swiftly succumbed to slumber.
The following morning, Hanna prepared another bland porridge and proceeded towards the bedroom. She knocked, but once again, he made no attempt to respond. With a timid "Excuse me," she opened the door and stepped inside. He sat upright in bed, assuming the same position as when she had discovered him yesterday, silently staring at her. "I've brought you breakfast," she said as she approached him.
She intended to exchange the bowls, but then her attention was drawn to the still-full bowl of the previous evening's dinner, and a surge of anger welled up within her. "Your dinner," she began, only to be interrupted by his icy voice. "I have no appetite." His weakened state and the bitter taste of illness appeared to have stripped him of his hunger. She clenched her teeth. "You must eat. Even if you have no appetite, you must nourish your body."
"My body does not require as many meals," he retorted. Desperate, she set the porridge down on the tray and took the other bowl in her hands. The rice soup had thickened, but it would be wasteful to discard it. She would reheat the soup and consume it herself.
"There was something I wanted to ask," she changed the subject. "Where are we? Is there any way off this island? Any boats?"
"The gondola on this shore lies desecrated," he answered her last question, his teeth gritting as he almost contemptuously spat out the response.
"Destroyed?" she repeated incredulously.
He remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead, lost in thought. His hands clenched the blanket, and he began to tremble uncontrollably.
"How far is it from here to the opposite shore?" she inquired.
"A quarter of an hour."
Hanna deliberated for a few moments, formulating a plan on how best to construct a boat that would ferry her away from this forsaken island. "Where exactly are we?" she asked. Who knows to what treacherous terrain her abductors had abandoned her, and who knows how long it would take her to find her way back home? Oh, the earful Marie would have to endure when Hanna appeared at her doorstep!
Once again, silence pervaded the air. With a questioning gaze, she continued to await a response. His lips contorted. "Disappear," he commanded, his voice resonating loudly and penetratingly. Hanna startled and promptly exited the room, seeking to evade yet another outburst of anger.
"What is the matter with him?" she muttered under her breath.
In the subsequent hours, Hanna embarked on a quest for suitable materials. She scoured the surroundings, uncovering a few weathered planks and skillfully disassembling an occasional piece of furniture. With a discerning eye, she salvaged a collection of nails that would serve her purpose. She acknowledged the risk of his wrath upon discovering her dismantling the dresser, but she reassured herself that by the time he uncovered her endeavor, she would have already embarked on her journey across the water.
However, lingering thoughts of his predicament crossed her mind. She shook her head, determined to push them aside. He sought solitude and possessed the knowledge to get off this island. It was highly probable that he had sabotaged his own boat. In this juncture, Hanna's focus was undeniably self-centered. Despite her regular provision of willow bark tea and water, she harbored no desire for further involvement with him.
Nevertheless, as exhaustion settled upon her from hours of labor on her modest and humble attempt at a makeshift boat, she found herself gravitating back to the kitchen, cooking something for him. Weary, she combined flour and water, shaping them into warm flatbreads over the crackling fire.
She couldn't help but recall those televised survival shows, when she worked on her boat, where she had often sat on her couch, munching on snacks, and deriding the contestants' struggles at the slightest adversity. Yet now, she found herself in their shoes, striving to prove her non-existent crafting skills.
Karma, she pondered.
In a skillet, she sautéed some pickled vegetables, deftly reaching for the cumin she had discovered on a shelf, adorning the pan's contents with a sprinkle of it, along with a hint of curry. Surprisingly, the kitchen boasted a commendable array of spices, though unlabeled. Through her olfactory senses, Hanna managed to identify several familiar spices.
Initially, she had insisted that he continue consuming the flavorless gruel, deeming it the best option for his stomach. However, since he hadn't touched the porridge at all, she resorted to this method, hoping to coax some sustenance into his system. She didn't want him to lapse into unconsciousness once more. She blinked, slightly perplexed. Why did she care? She knew how to escape this island, with a lake she could effortlessly traverse.
With more force than necessary, she loaded a plate with the seasoned vegetables and placed two flatbreads alongside. Setting the plate on the tray, she added utensils. Extracting three French books from a bookshelf, she carried them and the meal into the bedroom.
Placing the tray on the chair, she gestured towards the food. "At least give it a try." His gaze shifted towards the plate, emanating a delightful aroma. She had sampled a bite beforehand and almost envied him, receiving the nourishment in her place. And woe betide him if he refused to take a bite!
His long fingers reached for the plate and cutlery, while Hanna observed him, eagerly anticipating the moment he would start eating. However, the plate remained untouched on his lap. Bewilderment filled her gaze as she narrowed her eyes. Making sure he was looking at her, she lifted her index and middle finger, gesturing towards her eyes, then smoothly directed them towards the food.
Subsequently, she left the room and made her way to the kitchen, replenishing her supply of porridge for dinner.
The following day, she dedicated her attention to her clothes, which had dried near the ever-burning fireplace. The fabric displayed unsightly creases, but Hanna was relieved to be able to wear her own garments again. The dress had restricted her movements, particularly during the construction of the boat, leaving shreds of fabric in its wake due to the partially splintered wood.
Before changing, however, she tiptoed into the bedroom, only to disappear into the bathroom. Tiptoeing was the wrong term to use; for days, the man had been lying awake in bed, looking rather perplexed when Hanna entered the room to bring him tea or water. Hastily, she grabbed a bar of soap, two towels, and a washcloth from the bathroom, then exited the bedroom.
In the kitchen, she heated some water on the stove, intending to use it for bathing. She entered the room adjacent to the kitchen and locked the door behind her. Shedding the layers of fabric, she thoroughly washed herself with soap and water, despite the biting cold air against her naked skin. Days had passed since her last wash, and gradually, dirt and odor had accumulated on her body.
Her fingers turned red as she finished washing. She dressed in her clothes, futilely attempting to smooth out some wrinkles in her trousers with her hands. Next, she put on her shoes, even though she disliked wearing them indoors. However, due to her clumsiness while dismantling the chest of drawers, wooden splinters had scattered across the floor and embedded themselves in the house during the process. On several occasions, she had inadvertently stepped on a splinter, and although she had taken care to ensure the floor was clear during the cleanup, she simply didn't want to take any chances.
Feeling visibly liberated, Hanna unlocked the door and was taken aback. He was not far from her, pacing the room visibly agitated. His towering presence commanded attention, his imposing height adding to the intensity of the moment. His body possessed a remarkable lean and graceful form, accentuated by long, slender limbs that seemed to move with an effortless flow as he approached. There was an undeniable elegance in the way he carried himself, a deliberate and measured grace that hinted at both strength and vulnerability.
"Unfathomable! Utterly unfathomable! How could someone, in the name of all that is sacred and revered, commit such an audacious act of irreparable destruction? My blood boils, my soul ablaze with indignation! The depths of my wrath know no bounds!"
His voice quivered with anger, his hands clenched into fists and then opened in the same motion. "Oh, shit," Hanna thought, quickly closing the door again, careful to make no sound as she shut it. She immediately locked the door and took a few steps back. Cold beads of sweat formed on her forehead, a testament to the fear that gripped her. He wasn't just angry, he was furious.
She had anticipated this reaction, but not so early! He had barely given her time to set up the boat properly. How was she supposed to leave the island alive now?!
"To think that a cherished artifact, steeped in the rich tapestry of antiquity, has fallen victim to the wanton whims of a thoughtless mind! This dresser, an exquisite embodiment of craftsmanship and history, now lies shattered, its legacy reduced to fragments of ruination."
His voice trembled with anger, and naked panic washed over Hanna. She barricaded the door with some chairs and ran into the kitchen. Oh God, why hadn't she tied him to the bed as planned! Panic engulfed Hanna as she armed herself with a knife and took cover behind the piano.
She could only hope that he didn't intend to break down the door to confront her. Her hands perspired as she tightly grasped the knife handle. In the other room, she heard glass shattering, flinching at the sound. She closed her eyes and began to weep. Oh, how foolish she had been, how incredibly foolish! The hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she composed herself for whatever was to come next.
Well… that didn't end well.
Please Review and leave a follow and fav if you enjoy the story, it would mean the world to me :)