~Layla~
As the lamps dimmed outside the windows and people were closing the doors to their houses, I was still seated on the wicker chair in the corner of the room. My hands rested on my legs, and I looked over at my bags by the door. I couldn’t bring myself to open them or move them even an inch, and I hadn’t dared sit on the bed. When I thought of freedom, this wasn’t what I had expected.
I wanted to be back in my house, sleeping in my bed and pretending to be okay with all this from a place of privacy where I could close the door and be alone.
I drew a deep breath and looked around the room. Over the bed hung a painting of a man holding a sword. He swung it in the air, about to run toward a pack of wolves.
Another painting showed a king with a large crown on his head, and
