Christopher

Where had Anne gone? Christopher had looked all around the mansion but could find no trace of her. It was like she had disappeared. Deep down, Christopher knew something was wrong. It wasn't like Anne to leave, especially after they just kissed.

"Oh, dear, I hope she's alright," Lady Wheat said as Christopher walked back into the ballroom after his search.

Since the ball was still taking place, Christopher reassured that Anne was probably frightened from all the attention, not wanting the news of his wife's disappearance to spread.

"Anne is not one for crowds," he said, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"I see," said the Lady.

"I think I might know where to find her," Christopher lied. "But it requires me to leave, and I'm afraid myself nor I will be back. I do apologize, again, you have planned this ball so well, and we won't be able to see the end of it."

Christopher thinned his lips, feeling guilty. There was going to be a grand toast in his name, and now he would have to miss it. He would ruin all the work spent on preparing the ball.

He told himself he would make it up somehow, but right then, all that mattered was that he found Anne.

Lady Wheat grabbed Christopher's hand and looked him in the eyes. "Captain, all these guests are here to drink. There is no need to apologize. I hope the dear is alright. I will inform my husband and the night will go on. There is no need to worry about this news; the poor thing has gone through enough and does not need the embarrassment. Please send my love."

Christopher kissed her and, smiling. "Thank you, my Lady. I must take my leave now to gather a few things upstairs, but when I find Anne, I'll tell her how much you care. We will stay in an inn until we find a home, but I will soon send the clothes on our backs back to you. Thank you again."

"Keep the clothes and jewelry, dear. Consider them presents, but please write to us when you can. Goodbye, Captain." And with that, the Lady curtsied and walked away to find her husband.

Christopher let out a relieved sigh and made a determined stride out of the room and up the stairs. Reaching the bedroom, Christopher quickened in gathering the very few things they had. He stopped short, seeing the novel he had bought her so time ago.

It was sitting on the bedside table, lonely. Christopher frowned and picked up the book, gazing at the cover.

He ran his hands across the book and opened it up to flip through the pages she had read. It seemed so long ago that Anne had been reading the book. He remembered what she thought of the characters and how she connected with them.

Christopher smiled to himself when he found a bookmarked page and opened it to see which scene it was but stopped upon seeing an envelope addressed to her.

An envelope? It had the mansion's address on it. Who knew she was here?

Christopher out the paper from the already opened envelope and looked over it, reading the one sentence on it.

I will be there soon, it read.

There was no signature. There was no name. But Christopher already knew who the paper belonged to just glancing at the handwriting. He held the letter to his nose.

It smelled of salt and fish, scents from the docks closest to the mansion.

"Oh, Daniel," Christopher said to himself. "Why her?"

***

Anne

I cried myself to sleep that night. The rush of emotions just came spiraling out of me, and at that point, crying was the only thing that made me feel better and sane.

When I managed to fall asleep, I welcomed it with open arms. At least in sleep, I could forget about everything and everyone. I didn't have to feel pain. I didn't have to hurt. I could feel nothing, and I needed that.

A stack of books awaited me when I woke that next morning. They were on the table beside me with a note. I grabbed it and sat up.

"I figured you might want these. I will bring you breakfast, or you come and get it. I'm in the gallery,' it said, Daniel's name signed at the bottom.

I put the note down and grabbed at the books. There were three of them, and they were all stories I would like. They were brave adventures and romances, comedies and tragedies, all things Daniel knew I enjoyed.

"So he's trying to please me, I said to myself, setting the books back down.

I had remembered telling Daniel of a book I read once when we were children. It was when we first met. I found him reading on a bench in the park near where I lived. I would come there when I wasn't busy with my chores.

Daniel's nose was so deep into a book he was reading that I don't think he knew I was there until I asked him what book he was reading.

He lifted his head then and told me. I don't remember what book it was, but I do remember he'd let me borrow it.

"What do you like to read?" He asked me after a few minutes seeing I wasn't going anywhere. I couldn't tell if he wanted me to leave him alone or was generally interested in what I had said, but I answered him all the same.

"Adventures," I said. "Among other things."

After that, we talked a little while longer (me doing most of the talking), and then we parted ways. I made Daniel promise to come back the next day after that because I enjoyed talking to him.

We were around ten then, and the next day, he came back. I was overjoyed. I had found myself a friend.

Now things had changed. We were grown, and Daniel kidnapped me, taking me to America.

Mindlessly, I got up from the bed and slipped on the shoes Daniel left out for me and headed out the door and up the deck. I don't know why I went, I had every reason to stay away from him, but I couldn't bring myself to stay, so I went up the stairs.

Sunlight instantly hit my face when I reached the deck, and I had to hold my hand up, so the light didn't blind me. Though the sun was out, there was a chill in the ocean air. It was almost winter.

I wrapped my arms around myself and walked into the gallery. I found Daniel hunched over the table, a book in hand with an empty plate and glass by his side.

He looked up as soon as he saw me, bookmarking his page and then shutting the book, placing it beside him.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, standing up. He walked over to the stovetop, where a pan full of bacon was left.

"Fine," I said and walked over to the table to take a seat. As soon as I sat down, I instantly began to regret it. It meant that I was surrendering myself to Daniel, accepting what he did. I shouldn't have answered his question. I should have run over to the pan and knocked it over his head.

But could I have brought myself to do it?

He placed a plate of bacon in front of me, then sat opposite me, watching me. I knew what he wanted, so I picked up a piece of bacon and bit into it. I chewed, looking down at the table.

"I hope the books I got you are alright," he said. "I picked them out just for you."

"I'm sure you did," I said, my eyes still on the table.

"Yes." His voice was tight, probably unsure of how to act.

Usually, I was the one talking while he sat and listened. But now our roles were reversed, and Daniel was struggling with his new part to play.

"Do they satisfy you?"

I wanted to scream at him. Had he asked if it satisfied me to drug and kidnaped me? Had he given me a choice then? I didn't remember getting asked the question.

"Yeah," I said. "The books satisfy me." I stifled back my need to commit murder and continued to chew my bacon.

Daniel was silent after that, and I felt him watch me, making sure I swallowed what I put in my mouth. Finally, he sighed.

"Talk to me, Anne," he said calmly.

I swallowed and then met his eyes, furrowing my brows. "What do you want me to say, Daniel, because I don't even have a clue."