His Hôtel particulier in the middle of Paris had so many golden closets, i couldn’t count them all.
He locked me in one on the second floor.I was ambushed. I was screaming so loud my ears could not take the noise anymore. We had an argument, again. He told me he had to go to a meeting, I told him to stay, begged him and he exploded.
Naked, he dragged me on the pearly white carpet and pushed me into the nearest closet. My head was pounding, I felt a warm drop of blood on my temple. I started to push him with my small fists pasting his chest. His breathing got heavier while he was watching this fearless little girl. I looked up into his ebony eyes and saw he could’nt care less.
A second later, he pushed me further into the hanging couture clothes and closed firmly the door. I banged against the door with my feet, thinking that maybe it was all a dream. I heard the door lock and his footsteps going towards the white staircase. He was going to his meeting.
My heart stopped beating. I was trapped as a mouse. I don’t even know if I was still screaming or crying.
I felt submerged by water, being drowned in a green sea of luxury.
I could hear soft notes of Buena Vista’s trumpettistes coming from the antique living room downstairs.
At least, I was captured in the nicest Hôtel particulier in Paris.
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