AMARIS
The first thing I did when I woke up was stare at the ceiling.
The second thing I did was remember what day it was.
I sat up slowly and looked around the room, at the silk sheets and the carved mahogany furniture and the fresh flowers someone had placed on the dresser last night like decoration could disguise what this place actually was.
A gilded cage was still a cage.
I dragged myself to the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go, stepping in before it warmed up properly and standing there while the cold hit my skin and then burned into something scalding. I scrubbed my arms, my neck, my hair, every inch of myself, like I was trying to wash off something that hadn't happened yet.
It didn't work.
I came out, wrapped myself in a towel and stood in front of the mirror for a long moment.
"You look terrible," I told my reflection.
My reflection had nothing useful to offer in return.
