Nora.
A groan escaped my lips before a thought could form. My head throbbed, a dull, heavy ache behind my eyes. The world swayed, a nauseating lurch that made me squeeze my eyes shut again. Where was I?
The last thing I remembered was rain. A needle in my neck. The terrifying, muffled world inside a moving car.
I forced my eyes open. This wasn't a damp cellar or a concrete bunker. I was lying in a bed so soft it felt like I was floating on a cloud. The sheets were silk, cool and smooth against my skin. I pushed myself up, my muscles protesting. The room was stunning. A huge four poster bed with a carved mahogany frame dominated the space. A plush white rug covered the dark wood floor. Across from me was a fireplace, its marble mantle bare and cold.
Panic began to bubble in my chest, hot and sharp. This wasn't right. Kidnappers didn't put you in luxury suites. I looked down at myself. My scrubs, damp and smelling of antiseptic and rain, were gone. I was wearing a delicate silk nightgown, the color of cream. It was a beautiful, expensive thing I would never be able to afford in a hundred lifetimes.
I scrambled out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the thick rug. A beautiful dress was laid out on a velvet armchair. It was emerald green, the kind of dress you saw on movie stars. Next to it were a pair of impossibly high heels. They were dressing me up. Like a doll.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I ran to the door, a massive, heavy wooden thing. I twisted the ornate brass handle. Nothing. I pushed my shoulder against it. It didn't budge. It was locked. Solid as a bank vault.
“Hello?” My voice was a weak croak. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder this time. “Hello! Is anyone there?”
Only silence answered me.
“You have the wrong person!” I screamed, banging my fists against the wood until my hands stung. “My name is Nora! Let me out of here!”
I rattled the handle again and again, a wave of desperate, frantic energy surging through me. I moved to the windows next. They were tall, stretching from the floor to the high ceiling, offering a view of a meticulously manicured garden. A beautiful, perfect prison. I ran a hand over the glass. It was thick, cold, and unyielding. And then I saw them. Thin, black iron bars were set on the outside, their design so ornate they almost looked like decoration. Almost.
“No,” I whispered, stumbling back. “No, no, no.”
I was trapped. Truly and utterly trapped.
A sudden noise made me jump. A small click, then the sound of a key turning in the lock. I backed away from the door, my body trembling as it swung inward.
An older woman stood there. She was dressed in a simple black dress with a white apron, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun. She held a silver tray laden with food: a bowl of soup, a piece of bread, a glass of water. Her face was lined with wrinkles, and her eyes, when they met mine, held a flicker of something that looked like pity.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice shaking.
“You should eat,” she said, her voice calm and even, with a slight accent I couldn't place. She stepped into the room, her presence doing nothing to soothe my terror.
“I don’t want to eat,” I snapped. “I want to know where I am. Why am I here?”
She walked over to a small table by the window and set the tray down. “It is good soup. It will help you feel stronger.”
“Are you listening to me?” I took a step toward her. “You have the wrong person. My name is Nora Voss. I’m a nurse. You made a mistake.”
She turned to face me, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “There are no mistakes made in this house, signorina.”
“Signorina? You think I’m Italian? My name is Nora. E-le-na. I work at St. Jude’s Hospital. People are going to be looking for me. My friend Sarah, she’ll call the police when I don’t text her back.” The lie felt thin even as I said it. Sarah would worry, but she would assume I fell asleep, exhausted.
The woman’s expression didn't change. “No one is looking for you. It is better for you to accept this.”
“Accept what? That I’ve been kidnapped? That I’m locked in this room? Who are you people?”
“I am Maria. I am the housekeeper.”
“Maria, please.” I softened my voice, trying to appeal to whatever kindness was behind those sad eyes. “You have to help me. This is insane. Those men, they called me Isabella. I’m not her. I swear to you. Look at me. I’m nobody. I have debts I can’t pay, my car broke down two months ago. Does that sound like the person you’re looking for?”
“He will be here soon,” she said, completely ignoring my plea. “He will want to see you. You should put on the dress.” She gestured toward the green dress on the chair.
“I’m not putting on that dress. And I don’t want to see ‘him’. I want to see a phone. I want to call the police.”
“There is no phone for you,” she said, her voice still maddeningly placid. “And the police do not come here.”
“Why not? What is this place?” My voice rose with hysteria. “Who is he?”
“He is the master of this house. It is not my place to speak his name.”
“The master?” I let out a choked, incredulous laugh. “What is this, the dark ages? You have to help me, Maria. You’re a woman. You must understand how terrified I am.”
For the first time, a genuine emotion crossed her face. It was a deep, profound sadness. “I understand more than you know, child. That is why I am telling you to eat. To wear the dress. To do as you are told. It will be easier for you.”
“Easier? I don’t want easy. I want to go home.” Tears streamed down my face now, hot and angry. “Please. Just leave the door unlocked when you go. That’s all I ask. No one has to know it was you.”
She walked slowly toward the door, her footsteps silent on the rug. “I cannot do that.”
“Why not?” I cried, following her.
She stopped at the threshold and looked back at me. “Because he would not only kill me. He would kill my entire family.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. This was not some simple case of mistaken identity. This was something far darker, far more dangerous than I could have imagined. These were not just criminals. They were monsters.
“Eat your soup, Isabella,” she said softly, her voice filled with that same terrible pity. Then she stepped out of the room.
The heavy door swung shut, and the lock clicked into place, the sound echoing the finality of a coffin being sealed. I was alone again, left with the silence, the untouched food, and a beautiful green dress that felt like a shroud.
