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WHEN SHE OPENED her eyes, the room was well lit. It looked like a bedroom, a messy one at that. Where am I? Trying to move her hands to rub her tired eyes she felt a tug on her left wrist, ohhh...OH. I'm in Ambrose. She immediately jerked her head towards the limb and found a rope connecting her to the bedpost.
(F/N) lightly tugged on it, cursing when it didn't budge. Scanning the room for any Sinclair, she failed to spot anyone lurking in the shadows. All she found was the samebedroom as before. A bed in the center—the one she was sitting on, a wardrobe in the corner, and a dusty window to her right showed her that it was noon.
The girl sunk into the bed. Remembering what happened last she brought her hand up to her mouth as a wave of emotions hit her.
Her body began to shake as she tried to prevent herself from crying, the situation was overwhelming, and her body was begging to cry but she knew she had to get out of the house before she allowed herself to succumb to such emotions. "No, no, no, no, calm down." She urged herself, fanning her face to try and dry any tears before they could drip out.
Determined, (F/N) turned to the left and began to pull on the rope and twist her arm, hoping her wrist would become loose if it moved enough. However, she twisted it too far and it knocked into the lamp sitting on the table.
The lamp wobbled fast, and her heartbeat quickened as it rolled around on its round bottom in an almost teasing manner, as if it knew this would ruin her chances of escape. Her right hand reached out to try and grab the base to stabilize it when it accidentally gave it the nudge it needed to fall over the edge.
The lamp hit the floor with a loud thud making her cringe and retract her hand to use it to cover her mouth. Crap. She froze in that place, trying to hear any sort of noise that came from outside the room.
She held her breath and listened. It was all she could do really, with her wrist tied to the table. What was she going to do, lift the table and swing it at the person who opened the door? No. She looked at the table. Unless...
The sound of a lock clicking made her look at the door. She saw the doorknob quietly turning and then the door was given a small push to slide open in an almost painfully slow manner.
Then a figure was seen in the sliver. It was easy to recognize the person by their long dark hair and eerily blank expression.
Vincent pushed the door open with little force making it reveal his body, now in a different sweater and pair of jeans, the apron covered in wax missing from his apparel. He had a lock in his left hand making her aware that there was a new locking mechanism in her room. He didn't say anything as he peered into the room, only watching her stare back at him.
