Chapter 8

• [Millicent]
• I hear a “thump, thump, thump,” against my wall--a pattering of fists forming an oddly regular rhythm of flesh and stone. Squinting, I lift my head to see the first light of dawn begin to crest over the horizon. Rolling over, ignoring the pounding on my wall, I watch as the room slowly warms with morning light, refracted into sparkling rainbows through cut crystal windows that stretch from the marble floors to the high stone ceilings. Beautiful and cold, it is a lovely gilded cage.
• Grabbing a ridiculously oversized pillow, I pull it over my head in a vain attempt to silence the pounding which continues without pause, in perfect sync. I don’t need to check to know who it is on the other side.