By the time the dull morning sun shone through Virginia's room, she was already lying there with her eyes glued to the ceiling above. She tossed and turned all night. The new mattress was too firm, the quilt was too thin, and the bed was simply too huge and too foreign. And she just couldn't escape the feeling that someone was watching her constantly.
After Angela left the evening before, on several occasions Virginia thought she heard movement outside her door. A couple of times she thought she saw a flash of some dark figure shoot past her window. It seemed human-sized, but it moved too quickly. She wasn't sure what it possibly could have been. She was on the second floor, so it couldn't have been a person, right?
Virginia figured it was just her paranoia from being in such a strange, creepy place. Plus, she was alone in the strange, creepy place, and she'd never been far from her sister ... or her father.
A few times in the night Virginia cried for her family. She buried her face in her pillow and wept. Knowing Angela was in the room beside her, she tried her best to stay quiet.
But at least one time she began to hyperventilate, and she made loud gasps for air. When that happened, she thought she heard someone come to her bedroom door, but it was too dark to see any shadows, and nobody ever spoke or made a noise. There was probably no one there at all.
Virginia missed her sister and she ached to be back in her own bed in her own home. But she didn't seem to have a choice in the matter. She was to stay here at the Prince Mansion feeling something like a prisoner.
Sure she had nice furniture, and the mansion oozed wealth, but nothing was hers. She knew no one and no one knew her.
She was thankful, however, that Angela was so kind to her. She hoped the two of them could be friends. Virginia felt she could use a friend in a situation like this, and she truly thought Angela had the potential to fill that role. It gave Virginia a little bit of hope, a little bit of light.
But, even still, there was something about the Prince Mansion that unnerved Virginia. Between Charles Prince and the old mansion and the apparent obsession with creepy artwork, Virginia was feeling more and more on edge.
She had mixed feelings about Charles' frigid demeanor, for, even though he appeared to mostly be reserved and cold, on two occasions, he was almost kind to her.
He validated her worth when he said to her father that he didn't deserve her if he was so willing to get rid of her so easily, and then, once they arrived at the mansion, he touched her hand and warned her to do as she was told to avoid getting hurt.
It was true that neither of these instances was exactly comforting. Charles didn't smile. He didn't soften his voice. His gray eyes didn't lighten with kindness. So it was difficult to tell whether he meant to seem caring in those moments or if he'd not meant to seem any particular way at all.
And, additionally, there was the contrast between his handsome face, which made Virginia's stomach flutter, and his icy stare and flatline mouth, which made Virginia's stomach churn. It was all very complicated. Virginia was both dizzy and sick with confusion.
Since she couldn't sleep, Virginia lay with her face turned toward the window. She wasn't sure what time everyone around the house got around, but it was still quite early, so she just watched the sun come up slowly. The scene was picturesque.
Some thin mist had settled low in the mountains, and when the orange light of morning hit the tiny water droplets, the mountain seemed to glitter. But the tall pine trees were like dark soldiers lurking within the haze. And the mountains looked rocky and cold.
Pretty soon, in the midst of Virginia's sullen gaze and lousy thoughts, someone knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" she called out, almost feeling afraid.
A small, kind voice piped up on the other side of the door. "It's me," Angela.
Virginia was feeling groggy from the lack of sleep, but she got up, turned the light on, and opened the door for Angela.
Considering the surprised look on Angela's face, Virginia must have looked as awful as she felt. She hadn't bothered to look in the mirror yet, but she could sense the puffiness of her eyes, and she was sure they were red-rimmed from her frequent crying and lack of rest.
"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes," Angela said. "Get dressed and follow me to the kitchen. I'll wait right here."
Virginia nodded and obeyed. She closed the door and shuffled over to her dresser.
Frankly, she was happy to have something to do other than lie in her bed and think and feel confused about Charles or angry at her father or sad about her sister.
She got dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. She tied her long hair up in a messy bun. Just in case she would have to do any hard work, she wanted her hair to be out of her face. She hadn't brought much makeup because she didn't wear much anyways, but she applied a bit of concealer under her eyes to try and hide the bags. She wished she had some eye drops to lessen the soreness and the redness. But she would have to do without.
She supposed it didn't matter much how she looked anyway.
Virginia met Angela outside her bedroom and the two headed downstairs. She followed Angela down the steps and through the great halls. She passed the same horrific paintings that she'd seen the day before and wondered if they were the reason she had such trouble sleeping, why she felt haunted.
She eyed them and told herself they were just pictures, just art. She needn't be afraid of them.
Aside from the strange paintings and the unique artifacts, Virginia paid more attention to the mansion's details. Her house was grand, but this place was amazing, unbelievable. The ceilings were so high-she thought she could stand almost three of herself on her shoulders and still not touch the ceiling. The door frames and arches were beautifully sculpted with swirls and ocean-like waves. Even the doorknobs were delicately designed with floral patterns.
Angela pointed Virginia to the dining room where a single plate of eggs and toast sit at the end of the long table. The plate was a French design, porcelain encrusted with gold. And a matching teacup filled with tea was set off on the right-hand side.
Virginia felt this was way too fancy for her, who was now a servant, to use for a measly breakfast. Her dinnerware back home was expensive Versace, but this was clearly more valuable.
"Here's your breakfast. You may take your time eating. Just place the dishes in the sink when you've finished," Angela said.
Virginia was surprised that there weren't any other people around. Perhaps they'd risen earlier and already started work. She wondered whether Charles had eaten yet and where he did so, if she was sitting in the kitchen. Surely the master of the house wouldn't eat with the servants.
Virginia ate alone.
The food was well-prepared. The eggs were perfectly over easy and the toast was crisp and buttery. She might have been able to better enjoy the food had she been hungry at all, but Virginia was too nervous to eat.
Everything was foreign. Everything was weird.
Virginia forced herself to take a few bites, as she had hardly eaten anything the day before and knew she needed to keep her strength up, but she couldn't stomach more than a few bites because her stomach was sick with stress.
She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she was there in the Prince Mansion. She still couldn't understand how her father just gave her up in place of an old cross.
It was so unfair.
She had been a good daughter. She never asked for much. She felt she was pretty independent. Her father provided Virginia with a driver, and he paid for her barre classes and her and her sister's vacations, but other than that, Virginia thought she'd been good at taking care of herself. She even learned some things about cooking by some time watching the kitchen staff.
When Virginia was done eating, she took her plate to the kitchen. She scraped the remainders of her food into the trash and placed her empty dish in the sink.
The countertops were surprisingly bare.
There was some open cabinet space, but only a few plates, bowls, and glasses sat on the shelves.
There were hardly any signs of food either.
Back home, her kitchen was filled with stuff for coffee and canisters for basic baking ingredients. And there was always a bowl of fresh fruit. But here in the mansion, there was no coffee pot, no canisters on the counter.
Virginia thought this was strange. It was such a huge house, and though she hadn't seen many other people yet, she knew there were several people living there.
She fought the urge to look through the cabinets and the fridge. She didn't want to overstep her boundaries.
A strange feeling started growing in her gut. This place kept getting odder and odder.