I wake in the morning feeling relatively hungover. Eurgh, I rarely ever drink but I had far too much wine last night. There’s a note next to my pillow.
Morning my love,
Please attend a breakfast meeting with me at nine.
Calder
I repeatedly say his name, at first in my head and then out loud to see how it feels on my lips. It’s not what I imagined for him but I do think it suits him.
I’m so busy thinking about his name that it takes me a moment to realise what he wrote. ‘My love’ is he serious? Oh no. That’s not good at all. I will not be the Lord of Death's love. No. Then I think about spending eternity here alone.
I think about how I won’t ever get out. It’s not possible. What if he realises that I’m not interested in him and he kicks me out? What if I end up locked up by some doll
