"He "loves" her like a collector loves a rare diamond—he will polish her and keep her in a gold case, but if she tries to leave, he would rather crush her than let someone else have her."
The first thing I felt wasn't the light. It was the movement.
A slow, rhythmic swaying that made my stomach churn and my head throb. I gasped, my eyes snapping open as I bolted upright in a bed that was too soft.
My breath came in jagged hitches as I looked around. The room was opulent—white oak walls, gold accents, and a massive porthole that looked out into an endless horizon of blue.
I scrambled out of the bed. I rushed to the window, my hands pressed against the glass.
"No," I whispered, the word dying in my throat
Water. Nothing but water.
I turned and stumbled toward the door, throwing it open. I ran down a narrow, polished corridor until I reached the deck. The sun hit me like a physical blow.
