Consequences

memories to find the one of him finally leaving the room, then the images of her futile barrage on the door. Tears fell from her swollen eyes as the visions replayed in her mind. She laid her head back on the velvety pillow, allowing herself the luxury of more sleep and an escape from this reality.
    The next time she woke, Claire knew she couldn’t put off looking in the other doors any longer. She needed to find the one that held the bathroom. The sumptuous carpet enveloped her feet as she stepped from the bed. Despite the plush carpeting, the weight of her body made her legs cry out in pain. Sadly, she remembered crying out more than once. Her internal monologue screamed with unanswered questions: How did this happen? How did I get here? Why am I here? And most crucially, how can I get out?
    The three doors she’d counted earlier were arranged, two near the bed and one by the sitting area. Claire knew the lone door was her passage to freedom. She wrapped a sheet around her aching body and slowly approached the massive barrier of solid wood. The doorknob was the kind that was really a lever. Anxiety caused her hand to tremble as she slowly reached for the cold metal. If it moved, would she flee wrapped only in a sheet? Hell yes!
    Excitement quickly turned to disappointment as the lever remained perfectly horizontal. It didn’t even wiggle as many locked doors do. The solid impenetrable barrier stood unyielding. Despite the expected outcome, disappointment caused the ache within Claire’s body to intensify. Turning around, she viewed her cell. One of the other two doors had the best chance of holding her desired destination. She opened the first door and revealed a closet, one the size of most bedrooms. It could more accurately be considered a dressing room with built-in drawers, shoe racks, shelves, and hanging racks. Surprisingly, the racks and shelves were full. These clothes seemed to come straight from a Saks photo shoot, not the kind Claire would or could choose for herself. She was more the Target or Vintage type. These clothes belonged to someone who lived the life of the rich and famous. Who was that someone? Claire wondered why she was in that person’s room and why she remembered being told it was hers.
    Opening the next door, Claire found her destination. She stepped into a bathroom like one she’d seen on television, large and very white. The coolness of the tile hit the soles of her bare feet. White marble, white porcelain, silver accents, and glass surrounded her. If it weren’t for the plush purple towels, the room would be totally devoid of color. There was a large garden tub and a full glass shower that sported large and small showerheads from every direction. The sink adjoined a dressing table with a large lighted mirror and stool.
    She turned to see the person in the mirror. The image frightened Claire as she studied the reflection. Her tangled brown hair framed an unfamiliar face. There were bruises around her lips trying to match the color of the towels, and her left temple appeared red and swollen. Slowly dropping the sheet, the visual evidence of the soreness she experienced could be seen as red and purple bruises over her body and extremities. The vision restarted her tears. With steely determination, she gripped the lever of another door and found her destination.
    A plush white bathrobe hung near the shower. Twisting the knobs to adjust the water, Claire decided a shower would make her feel better. Hot steamy water hit her skin as she stepped into the spacious shower. The prickling sensation of a thousand needles pierced her shoulders as the hot water flowed over her battered muscles. It was a sensation of both pleasure and pain. She allowed the water to continue its assault, and as time passed and the temperature remained high, her muscles relaxed. The sweet floral aroma of the shampoo and body soap replaced the odors of last night. A renewed sense of strength filled her resolve. Somehow she would survive this nightmare.
    Claire developed a plan as she used the luxurious lavender towel to dry her battered body. She would talk to Anthony and explain that this was a mistake. They could split ways, no questions asked and no charges pressed. The soft robe warmed her, providing a bogus sense of security.
    The woman in the mirror looked better. However, her dark hair now fell messily in wet tangles. Without thinking, Claire began to open drawers and cabinets. Just like the closet, the