Twelve

A Gift

With 5:00 a.m. fast approaching, I paced my bedroom floor in complete indecision as to what I should wear. A chastity belt would have been nice, but he hadn’t included that item in my new wardrobe.

The absence of modern noise in our wing of the house, which had at first been pleasant, was beginning to drive me batty. I didn’t relish the idea of hanging with the Fangs to listen to the radio, but the idea grew more appealing with each passing hour. I hoped to negotiate a TV in my room if I played my cards right. After the tedious night I’d had, the idea of prostituting myself for my cable fix didn’t seem as wrong as it should.

I had almost settled on a plain black skirt to go with the turtleneck I wore when there was a soft knock at my door. Before I could open it, Clarence entered. He bore a plastic garment bag, which he dumped without a word on the bed.

“What’s this?” I asked after him as he left the room.

“Read the card” was his only reply before I heard the outer door click shut.

“Thanks for your help,” I muttered, looking down at the bag. A small envelope rested atop it. I slid the card out and read the elegant script.

I hope the gown is to your liking. It would please me greatly if you wore it this evening. Clarence will come to retrieve you at five o’clock.

Bracing myself for what I might find inside, I unzipped the bag. The dress wasn’t what I had expected—though my expectations weren’t terribly specific. Lifting the length of blush-colored satin, I grudgingly admitted Cyrus had good taste.

I would normally feel a little silly for being so overdressed, but I liked what I saw when I slipped into the gown and looked myself over in the mirror. The color complimented my blond hair, and though my skin had paled since I’d turned, it wasn’t as obvious against such a delicate shade.

I usually wasn’t so vain, but I hadn’t gotten dressed up like this since my high school prom, and the sight of myself in something other than a lab coat or jeans enticed me to the mirror. I snuck a pair of diamond earrings from the stash in the armoire and let my hair down, brushing it until it fell in soft waves around my shoulders. I looked so good I would have given myself television privileges just for standing there.

Now I look like something worth drawing, I thought, and instantly regretted it. After the T-shirt debacle, I’d taken care to hide Nathan’s sketch, but it had felt like burying a dead friend. I wondered what he was doing now. If he missed me. Or if he was just biding his time until he got the chance to kill me.

I commanded myself to stop thinking of such morose things. Whatever might have begun between Nathan and I was over now. I could continue to cling to the past, or I could try to be happy in my new life.