Celine's POV
But when our eyes met, there was something else there in his eyes, a fleeting trace of pity that vanished almost as soon as I noticed it.
"After you, ma'am," he said softly.
The walk to my room felt longer than usual, each step heavier, like walking toward a familiar prison. When we arrived, he opened the door, waited for me to enter, then said quietly, "Orders are to keep it locked until further notice."
My throat tightened. "Marcus, please… Can't something else be done? Can't I just move along the hallways? I don't have to leave the house, I can't stay here all alone with the sound of the television for even up to two days without even walking around the house."
"I'm sorry," he interrupted gently. "It's not my call."
The lock clicked from the outside.
Something inside me cracked, another crack in me, how many cracks until I'm finally broken?
I rushed to the door, banging my palms against it. "Marcus! Open it! Please…this isn't right!"
