When I opened my eyes, I found myself in an unfamiliar bed that had a peculiar feel to it. The room wasn't particularly large, but it had an air of elegance. To my right, there was a cozy king-sized bed adorned with clean, crisp linens and plump pillows, promising a comfortable night's sleep. Bedside tables flanked the bed, complete with elegant lamps for convenient lighting and a place to keep personal belongings within reach. It was clear that this place wasn't a grand suite, but it still possessed a certain charm.
Memories of the previous day flooded my mind, and I couldn't help but feel bewildered. I had acted impulsively, jumping without a second thought, almost as if it were a figment of my imagination. Strangely enough, despite the situation, I hadn't screamed or called for help. It was as if I had been caught in a trance.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, and it swung open to reveal it was John. His question about my sleep suggested a familiarity between us, though we exchanged silent glances. Suddenly, I became aware that I was still in my pajamas from yesterday, which caused a tinge of embarrassment. However, I assured John that I was comfortable.
Concern etched across his face, John broached the subject of my actions, alluding to a potential suicide attempt and an unidentified person. I denied his assumptions, explaining that it wasn't about that person and that my aunt hadn't coerced me into anything. Yet, I struggled to find a coherent explanation for my behavior.
"Have you seen yourself? There's still blood on your dress, your face is swollen, and you have a bruise on your shoulder," he said, his voice carrying a mix of concern and urgency. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as his words hit home. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, the weight of the unspoken hanging in the air between us.
Finally, he broke the silence with a compassionate tone, "I won't force you to answer me. You're my old friend, but we need to talk about the past two days. I don't understand what are you planning. But don't make me regret my choice to save you " His words offered a glimmer of understanding but and threats "I'll arrange for a doctor and maids to assist you. You'll stay here with me right now then I will send you to Hendrix estate."
With that, he turned and left the room, leaving me to grapple with the whirlwind of emotions and memories that had brought me to this point. The promise of medical help and the comfort of staying with a familiar face gave me a sliver of hope amidst the confusion.
After what felt like half a minute, a maid and a doctor entered the room to provide assistance. Both of them maintained a respectful silence, understanding the sensitivity of the situation. I, too, remained silent, overwhelmed by the events that had transpired.
The doctor took charge, attending to my injuries with gentle care. As they cleaned my bruises, I realized the extent of the damage, unaware of the severity until that moment. The doctor's expertise and professionalism offered a comforting presence, alleviating some of my worries.
Once the doctor finished their work, they left the room, allowing me a moment to collect myself. The maid then stepped forward, offering their assistance in cleaning and dressing me. Their presence was comforting, and their help allowed me to regain a sense of normalcy amidst the turmoil.
Throughout the process, no words were exchanged. It was as if we all understood the need for quiet reflection and healing. The maid's gentle touch and attention to detail helped restore a sense of dignity and self-care.
As I stood there, feeling both grateful and uncertain, a sudden wave of fatigue washed over me, leaving me inexplicably tired. Wanting to distract myself, I turned to the maid and asked, "What's your name?"
The maid, whose name was Jennie, replied with a respectful tone, "Jennie, my lady." I couldn't help but notice her striking features despite her role as a maid. Her dark blonde hair and blonde eyes. complemented her short stature, giving her a quiet elegance. She looked noble rather than low born.
Feeling a bit restless, I decided to request something to read. "Jennie, could you please bring me something to read.?" I asked politely. She nodded in understanding and slowly left the room, likely to fulfill my request.
As I waited for Jennie to return, I found myself lost in my thoughts once again. The events and emotions of the past days continued to weigh on my mind, leaving me with a lingering sense of unease. I hoped that immersing myself in a book would offer a temporary escape from the turmoil within me.
As I stood there, contemplating the uncertain road ahead, my mind swirled with questions about my future or a dream.
I don't know what the future holds for me. Once, I was nothing more than a villain, consumed by my pursuit of male character and his liver . But that life feels like a distant memory now, the only thing I know is what Gabriel and Alice look like.
All I've ever wanted was a peaceful existence, free from the burdens of being labeled a "villainess." Yet, as I grasp for that elusive tranquility, doubts and fears continue to plague me. I feel scarred, as if this reality is not my own - perhaps it's all just a dream, a fleeting illusion conjured by a mind desperate to escape its own history.