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Lost in a Labyrinth (SweetxVictorian)

Sweet Nothings

Planetoid
Joined
Apr 28, 2015
Standing stoically in the pasta aisle, the realization that a box of ramen was out of her price range really made the severity of her poverty sink in. Emily had never seen hardship before. An only child born into the upper class, at no time had food on the table been a concern. Sifting through the change in her palm, the coins chimed dully over her skin; thirty-six cents short. Her stormy eyes shifted down the aisle to glance at a middle-aged man. She envied his full cart. Frozen pizzas, sauces, even fresh produce.

With an empty stomach the girl timidly inched towards the stranger. “Excuse me, sir…” Explaining her lack of cash was embarrassing. Asking him for the remainder was downright painful. He seemed to understand her hardship while handing her the remainder she asked for. “We’ve all been there once, honey. Things will get better.” It took Emily all of twenty seconds to thank the man, grab her food and make a straight line to the checkout counter.

The cashier casually observed as she re-counted her change only to realize she’d come up a couple pennies short. She threw her shoulders back in aggravation. The hunger was starting to affect her mood.

“I got you,” the cashier offered. From his pocket he produced the pennies to complete the transaction. Emily thanked the second person of the day that had to give her money to eat. With a bruised ego she gathered her bag and held her hand out to accept the receipt. The cashier peered her over once more before speaking again. “You look pretty active,” he mumbled before beginning to scribble something on the backside of her receipt.

“Look, there’s this address a buddy of mine told me to go to once when I said I thought I was going to be homeless. It’s like a physical challenge or something to prove your survival skills. If you think you can hack it, there’s supposed to be some kinda reward. If you don’t have anything else to do why not try,” he encouraged. When he was done the paper went to her hand and she read the address.

“This place is on Oak Street?” Oak Street was one of those roads known for looming mansions and high-priced property. What the hell could possibly be out there for people that were strapped for cash? Turning slowly, she thanked the guy and made her way out the sliding doors. The ramen was tucked into her backpack while the receipt was stuffed into her pocket. After bumming hot water for her noodles out of a gas station she decided to rethink the opportunity. By the time she threw out the empty cup and mounted her bike, she was on her way to the mysterious location.

The road grew steeper and steeper which eventually forced her off of her bicycle. Pushing on, she finally reached her destination at the very end of Oak Street. Emily paused to catch her breath and put herself together. Her fingers loosely combed through her hair in an attempt to tame it all. A light flannel shirt was pulled from her bag and buttoned before approaching the door with bike at her side.

Emily paused for a moment. Was this really a good idea? It took roughly thirty seconds to recall the past few days of scrounging for meals to answer that question. Finally, with great determination, her index finger pressed firmly against the polished button at the side of the door.
 
Waiting at the door felt like an eternity. Her fingers clutched nervously at the grips of her bike as her weight shifted from one hip to the other. It was quiet. She swore she could her the spokes of her wheels rusting. While nibbling at her lip, the sight of movement at the other side of the door caused her to pause. What the hell was she doing at a stranger’s address?

The sound of a knob turning evoked a terrible debate of flight or flight. Inhaling deeply, Emily managed to hold her ground as the butler cracked the door and gave her the appropriate judgmental once-over. Who the hell wouldn’t? The girl was definitely due for a bath but displayed no signs of illicit activities. No shakes, no scratching. Her skin was unmarred.

A lengthy silence hung in the air as they finally made eye contact. Free of makeup due to a lack of affordability, those natural lashes fluttered at the sound of his voice. Was that an invitation to explain herself, or perhaps simply make an introduction?

“I-I… I’m not sure if I have the right address…” Trailing off, she peered over her shoulder as if a sign would be pointing her in the right direction. “Maybe you could help. I was told that this was where to go if I wanted to seek a fortune of some sort.” Short fingernails dug into the firm rubber grips of her handlebars while speaking. She wasn’t comfortable. “I’ve been rotating through friends’ couches for a while now, and I’m afraid I’m wearing out my welcome. If I could just earn enough to maybe pay for groceries for a couple of weeks things would be a lot easier.”

Begging was becoming annoyingly repetitive as of late, but she managed to come off as educated. There was no effort made to shove herself inside or speed the butler’s train of thought. “So even if this is the wrong place, could I do some kind of yard work?” After all, who would let a stranger into their house?

As he donned a pair of gloves she couldn’t help but feel like something was amiss. Perhaps this was the correct place after all. “Do you… do you know why the person who told me about this opportunity looked to see how physically fit I was?”
 
Without any real answers to her requests or queries the offer to enter the premises was presented. Slowly, she lowered her bike to the ground. The kickstand had snapped off weeks ago, forcing her to leave what looked like garbage at the front of a rather impressive estate. Impressed by the sight of the front hall alone, nothing would prepare her for the collection of the library. Emily was no literature buff, but she knew exactly what an expensive collection looked like. The flickering firelight was mesmerizing and warm. How she would have loved to have curled up on a plush rug in front of it.

Instead she was ushered towards a large lounging chair and his speech began. She felt small in such a lavish room. The sensation only felt worse as free food and drink were added to the mix. Despite her recent meal, the scent of actual food called out like a siren. As the man began to slide over rather large sums of gift cards and explain their use, her attention was forced to return. The threat of having to pay for any overages was enough to ensure proper budgeting.

As his attention drifted away Emily couldn’t help but follow the butler’s gaze. The sight of the man standing above them sent a chill down her spine. She knew staring was wrong, but she couldn’t control herself. Wide-eyed, she took to pausing as he nodded and proceeded to move on from the library. For a moment she wanted to ask who the hell that was, but did it really matter what name was on the bank account? The rules were still the same regardless of who wrote them.

With very little else going on in her life, she took to the pen and immediately signed. The butler had done a great job explaining things, what else was there to read? Her signature gave her the ability to guiltlessly reach for a sandwich and proceed to stuff her face. Oh god, protein. Her mouth watered at the taste. Tea, while nothing but flavored water, was another simple expense that hadn’t been taken in ages. The cookies were simply divine. They could have come from a tube and burnt on the bottom, she would have been grateful none the less. Any excess that wouldn’t fit in her stomach was shoved into her pockets out of instinct.

Having sated her stomach, her eyes turned to the collar. Perhaps she should have asked a few more questions before signing. After all, what the hell sort of a maze was frightening enough to require a GPS signal to keep track of the people that agreed to enter it? She reached for the simple accessory and toyed with it between her fingertips. It would be fine. Certainly strange, but nothing unbearable.

Alone in a stranger’s library, Emily stood. She looked towards the balcony a second time, recalling him. There was something about the man that just made her skin crawl. To avoid losing herself in thought, she opted to call for the butler. “Do I go now?” There was a small spark of excitement over the concept of having a driver.
 
The sensation of a lock and collar at her neck forced her to contemplate the decision she’d just made. No really, how many people tried to run? Were others more informed than she’d bothered to become? Why would someone sign a contract then try to run off? She fingered the cold metal as it glimmered in the dim light from the fireplace.

Once offered an unrestricted choice for dinner, her response was immediate. “Duck,” the request border lined on rude due to the haste of the delivery. “But if that’s too much I understand. I don’t have any allergies.”

While the driver wasn’t half as impressive as the butler had been, the luxurious sedan made up for it. With the door held open she slipped in as gently as possible; she felt guilty putting any weight at all on the leather. Emily didn’t even want to think about what her shoes were doing to the floor. After mentioning that the supply store was on the way, she figured that now would be as good of a time as any to lay her cards on the table. “I don’t really.. have a home to pack up. I liquidated everything that wouldn’t fit into my backpack. Well, except for the bike.” That had been abandoned at the sight of the Mercedes. Oops.

Pulling up at the store Emily clutched to her gift card. She’d be spending five hundred dollars. The sum almost seemed impossible. She grabbed a cart and attempted to form some sort of plan. “I’m probably a small. Can you find long sleeved shirts and running pants? Black ones. Or as dark as possible. No neon stuff.” After sending him on his quest, she headed to the shoe section. She found something appropriate for cross-country running and avoided the bright colors once more. The survival gear came next: a couple of rations for nutrition, a canteen to fill, and even a small fire kit were added to her haul. Two paracord bracelets, a small tarp, and two flashlights went next. One of them ran on batteries, the other was crank operated. Anything more would have weighed her down severely.

The majority of the giftcard was spent on her shoes, leaving her under budget just enough to grab a granola bar. She emptied her backpack right there and placed anything she wouldn’t need in the morning into the duffel bag she’d been supplied with to store her belongings in. Maybe he’d think she had a home after all. All of her gear fit perfectly into her bag. A sigh of relief was offered before returning back to the sedan.

The spa was indeed very chic. With walls and floors made of polished marble, Emily quietly made her way through the front door. The receptionists looked on edge at her presence; one of them was already prepared to call security. “I have a card,” she presented the plastic. Having verified the cards authenticity, she still felt rather unwelcome. They probably thought she stole it. Regardless, a list of various services was handed over for her to choose from. The prices for some of the services were ridiculous; no wonder the card had such a sum on it. She settled for a deep tissue massage and something called a “leg rejuvenation.” Having learned that any patron could use their locker room, Emily decided she would just wash her own hair.

Both of the massages were worth every penny. The deep massage was slightly uncomfortable at first, but by the time the masseuse was finished not a single ounce of tension remained. She felt lighter, as if her life had dramatically changed. The second treatment ended up being a massage focused specifically for legs and was followed by a mint scrub that made her skin tingle. The whole experience ended far sooner than she wished it had, and with 45 minutes to spare, she was at the front of the building. Peering about for a moment or two, she spotted her driver. Freshly showered and smelling of lavenders, the girl melted into the seat of the sedan, enjoying the ride back to the mansion. She even took a small sampling of the whiskey.
 
Emily looked like she’d forgotten why all of this was happening to her as the sedan pulled up to the building and the butler opened the door. There was fresh energy and a new aura of positivity about her. Maybe it was the whiskey. Whatever the source, she followed once ushered back inside. She peered about as she was led deeper into the mansion than her first time. Maybe she’d see him again.

Rather than bump into the master of the house, she was introduced to her bedroom for the night. Her bedroom. Not a couch, not the back of a car; a bedroom. Bright eyes grew wide as they scanned over the large bed and various decorative accents. This was going to be the best night ever. The bathroom was simply icing on the cake. Perhaps she’d enjoy a lengthy bath after dinner. Inwardly, she gasped. Dinner! There was going to be a prepared meal! Emily really didn’t seem to register the comment on a lack of razor.

Then he showed her the dress and heels. These were brands she hadn’t been able to touch in years. She pawed at the dress as if testing the reality of its existence. Despite the great amount of excitement all these things offered, the mention of him spending dinner with her really ruined the reveal of a duck dinner. The sight of him looming in the library was enough to make her uneasy, what the hell was sharing a table with him going to be like? Then again, these were all his things.. It seemed more than fair to at least be asked to keep a conversation.

Alone in her room and with a deadline, Emily chose to change. The material was exquisite and fit her like a glove. The heels were sexy and made her feel something she hadn’t felt in years. Her reflection in the mirror was every young girl’s dream. Slim yet shapely, wearing some of the finest couture clothing that was a staple in any fine woman’s closet. Then she noticed the collar. Her fingers ran along the edge of the material, tracing along her neck and jostling the lock. As incredible as all this was, she’d let the simple concept of food and money distract her far too easily.

With a small frown she brushed through her hair with her fingers. It air dried nicely and began to form loose and lazy curls. Maybe all this was a mistake. Why would a stranger give these sort of things away? Certainly not just to test someone’s ability to run and hide. It was too easy of a decision to leave the sheet of paper at the table blank. There was no one to write to or anyone that would want her dirty remnants.

With seven minutes left she exited the room. Heels clicking in her wake made it impossible to sneak up anywhere. Her excitement seemed diminished, leaving little more than anxiety and fear. It wasn’t difficult to find the dining room. If she wasn’t alone, Emily would stand awkwardly until invited to the table. If not, her place would be quietly taken while staring at her empty table setting.
 
Emily was finally being forced to come to the true terms of whatever arrangement shed agreed to. Up to this point, it had been nothing but pampering and free food. Now that she was face to face with the man in charge of it all she didn’t quite know how to act. He seemed like a character from a movie as he offered a martini and spoke casually of her accommodations. She accepted the drink with two hands. It had been far too long since she’d held actual glassware to trust herself. After taking a nervous sip a small nod was offered to express her approval. It did taste rather divine. It also could have tasted like a cow pie and she would have praised him for it.

Her eyes observed with great care as he approached and offered her place at the table. Setting the cocktail down first, she turned and slowly lowered upon the plush cushion of the dining chair. While he didn’t linger at her back, there was something she didn’t quite enjoy about not having him in her sight. Goosebumps formed along her neck and arms. If she was out on the street and picked these vibes up from someone she generally ran. “Thank you,” that was all she could muster.

There was something odd about the whole dinner. From the formal wear down to the food itself it all just seemed too surreal. It had been a lengthy amount of time since she’d just been able to socialize. Alcohol, a meal prepared by someone else, a non-leaky roof. It all felt like it was too much. She placed her napkin on her lap and somehow recalled the correct etiquette for holding a fork and knife. The duck was divine. Years had passed since her last fine dining experience. The undertones of the sauce, the sheer amount of culinary expertise required to assemble it all was impossible to deny.

His questions were perplexing. How vague yet grand any of her answers could be. She put her utensils down and took a sip of the cocktail as she gathered her thoughts. “My name is Emily Adams and I’ve been living on the streets for a few years now. My father took his own life once he learned that all of his stock investments had gone belly up and my mother frittered away whatever we had left attempting to keep our lifestyle the same. She ended up in prison when she was caught in a money laundering scheme. I was half way through college and stubborn about the whole idea of working.” It was almost angering to talk about her past self and the way she had acted like a spoiled child. “When I didn’t pay tuition I was kicked from my dorm. Then as time passed it was difficult to get any kind of a job that could actually pay enough to cover any sort of rent and food bills.”

Thank god there was alcohol. She finished her martini and took to the wine. It wasn’t often that she was asked about her past after all. “So, I guess if it was a perfect world and I could choose what I’d be doing next week, I’d be finishing my degree in Marketing and actually applying it to my career.” Her eyes finally settled on his, slightly teary from discussing such touchy issues. “I just want to work and add something to society.”
 
After confiding the major low points of her life with a man that only answered with an offer of dessert and a half-hearted gesture at good sportsman ship, Emily wasn’t very confident. Teary eyed she stared at the cake; it looked absolutely divine. In the past she would have jumped at the opportunity to soothe her sorrows with sweets. But in this house, with these people, the slow realization that it was all just a game finally began to sink in. Would she make it, would she fail? No one cared. It was just another game.

She pawed the tears from her eyes at the sight of the butler. The girl was angry for showing such vulnerability. They all probably thought she’d just trip on a vine and twist her ankle. In the extravagant outfit she stood and followed him back to her room. As the full contract was recited, Emily had to keep herself from falling over. Her knees buckled and a hand reached for the wall. Of course all of the rewards sounded beautiful, but at what cost? To be that man’s toy would surely be worse than the life on the streets she already had.

More anger bubbled within her. How had she let some sandwiches and cookies distract her from taking care of her own life? As he spoke of the master of the house exploiting his fresh ownership of a catch with sex, her cheeks flushed with rage. Of course. For years she’d been fending for herself and not once had she been stupid enough to fall prey to an unwanted hand. Sure, there had been close calls, but she’d manage to slink her way out and learn from those experiences. Now here she’d gone and signed a fully binding contract that allowed for such behavior.

“Seven,” her voice was terse and she turned to enter the room. Her emotions were in control as the door slammed in her wake; the first time she'd ever been rude within the walls of this building. The dress and heels were pulled from her body as if they suddenly burned her skin. Standing nude in her bedroom, she suddenly understood why razors weren’t allowed. Clearly she hadn’t been the first one to sign that contract without even browsing through it.

Sleep wasn’t easy to come by. She tossed and turned all through the night. Unbearably restless, Emily rolled out of bed and began to sort through her provisions a second time. If she was stupid enough to avoid reading a contract, she’d have to pull through and complete this maze. That was the only way her life would be salvageable, so that was what she promised herself. Already dressed and ready, by the time the butler knocked on her door she was able to receive him fully clothed with her bag on her shoulder.
 
It was visibly apparent that Emily had gone through an intense shifting of moods. Her shoulders were square and her chin held up high. Even though her destination was nothing but breakfast, the girl seemed to move with a purpose as opposed to wide-eyed and thrilled exuberance that had been on display the other night. Beneath the stoic exterior rage thundered through her. It took great effort to thank the butler and eat the provided breakfast; to decline the calories out of hate would have been moronic.

There was no interest in small talk while being escorted to the maze. Once offered to simply choose a direction, the girl stepped forward. Taking a breath, she centered herself. Sure, this was about athleticism and stealth, but keeping calm would be necessary in order to think clearly. Were there even any tips or tricks for navigating through mazes?

Her departure was silent. Breaking out into an even jog to avoid an early exhaustion, Emily scampered off down the path to the right. For a few minutes she just jogged, observing the foliage and taking note of the state of the pathways; they were impeccably groomed. Whatever gardener maintained it all must have memorized the labyrinth of trees before they even had to step foot into it. Had she not been running for her life the desire to casually meander among the trees would have likely been chosen as a method of wasting a great portion of the day.

Instead, she chose a short burst of actual running to put a bit of distance between herself and the entrance. It was difficult to keep her speed while turning corners, limiting her speed until a straightaway would reveal itself. Her first instinct was to make nothing but right turns. It took about twenty minutes to realize just how predictable that was. How many times had the path already split? Ten, twenty? Erring on the side of caution, the next fork in the road was met with a turn to the left. Emily knew that relinquishing the memorization of where she had tread was dangerous but ultimately beneficial.

He would have to start relying on his hounds as opposed to just knowing exactly where she ran.
 
The maze was endless. Every twist and turn felt as though it could finally reveal something glorious, yet all they offered were mind-numbing pathways. Pausing for the first time to breathe and take a drink from her canteen, the first mistake of her purchases presented itself; she had no watch. How long had she been here? Was he in the maze yet? Emily decided now would be as good of a time as ever to test the boundaries of the fauna. A great attempt was made to elbow through the thick greenery and she was met with a resistance that was unexpected.

Having earned several scratches on her palms and cheeks and making no progress, the girl surrendered. This had been around for years already. Any sort of sneaking through walls would have to be cut through and ruin the entire point of sneaking at all. Resigned, she pressed onward. Would she even find the center courtyard of one of these things? There were allegedly three!

As the duration of her stay increased, the foliage and mindless turning set her into auto pilot. She encountered her first trap: a simple wire strategically tied one foot above the ground. Completely unprepared, she fell hard. Instinctively reaching forward to avoid falling face first, tender palms skidded against the earth as her slender frame rolled. Dazed, Emily was left panting on the ground while attempting to orient her senses. Sore and dirty, she staggered back onto her feet and continued. It took a few strides to stretch an awkward limp out of her knee but she was able to work through it.

Body and mind worked overtime to avoid any other damaging slip-ups. She’d become increasingly focused upon the ground as she traveled. Then suddenly, the narrow walls of foliage opened up. Daring to look up, a small garden was revealed. A simple bench, rows of rose bushes and an enchantingly quaint archway made for a romantic place. Or at least at any other time it could have been romantic. Unwilling to relax, she walked backwards in a large circle through the garden before choosing one of the three different exits.

The reversal may or may not work. Plus, it slowed her own progress. Emily committed to the awkward pace for as long as she dared before spinning and continuing a jog. She would need to stop and eat soon.
 
Emily clearly wasn’t equipped to be outwitting bloodhounds. She had no method of masking a scent nor did she have speed. What had started out as determined anger slowly degenerated into the sinking feeling that she was just prolonging the inevitable. Her stomach began to slowly knot. What if she didn’t make it? Perhaps she would need to start pondering what the life of a servant was like.

Her train of thought was broken with an unexpected force at her back. It was odd; like being pushed in the playground. Surprised, a yelp echoed briefly before the greenery managed to muffle. Pausing to inspect what the hell just happened, the large arrow jutted brutally from the center of her bag. Luckily for her the tarp folded over several times had stopped the dart in its path. There was something about the action of literally being shot at that shook her. Previously this was a game; now it had escalated to something much more.

Peering down the way, it wasn’t hard to spot him. A brief moment of observation was taken before turning away and breaking back into a run. There wasn’t any time to jog. The treads of her shoes dug into the ground and left skid marks at each turn that she made. Subtlety was no longer an option. So great was her speed that she couldn’t properly round corner without bumping into a sapling and snapping a few twigs.

This pace was painful. Her legs begged for a rest and her lungs stung with each breath. Nearing collapse, she stumbled into another garden. A rock garden to be precise. Meticulously raked sand accompanied by a small koi pond all seemed strangely serene for a person being chased with arrows. Like it or not, Emily had to stop. She drank with vigor and practically inhaled a protein bar. That was when she noticed the second pedestal.

Despite her protesting legs she stood and lifted it, revealing a scroll with an intricate wax seal. She broke it and briefly scanned the parchment. Her mother’s bail was to be paid. She frowned. Of all three prizes, this was certainly the least desirable one.
 
Emily was so very tired. The decision to weave about like a mad woman at blistering speeds had run its course. Even with a small food and water break it was nearly impossible to find the energy to push on. This of course effected the pace of her run. Even at her sluggish pace the effort to lift her feet was a burden that wouldn’t be able to be supported at the end of the hour.

Staggering on, the awkward pace of her jog had degraded into a power walk only to piddle down to an exhausted walk. In all her time on this earth her legs had never been so over worked. She needed to breathe. Fully stopped amidst the greenery, the girl doubled over. Palms at her knees for support, gasping for air, Emily felt completely defeated. The sound of the hounds echoed in he background, reminding her of the ever-present hunter that was hot on her heels.

Straightening up once more, she shambled forward a few more steps and rounded a corner. There, off in the distance, she saw another fountain at the end of a lengthy straightway. Wide-eyed and hopes soaring, the girl limped on with her gaze locked intently upon the slowly approaching courtyard.

All at once, her fortune seemed to have shifted. So focused upon the chance at freedom, the slight depression in the path had gone unnoticed. The trap triggered just as intended. With nothing more than a small snap, the loop of a rope was drawn taught and circled about her ankle. In the blink of an eye her world was upside down, literally and metaphorically. The sensation of being pulled and dragged against gravity’s will earned a howl of disapproval.

Dangling helplessly, she writhed about in an attempt to break free. Nothing more than twenty yards stood between her and the courtyard. “No, come on!” Her stomach churned at the thought of failure and all she’d accomplished was freeing a guilty woman from jail. Tears stung at her lashes, but for the moment she was capable of keeping them restrained.
 
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