Ginny stared at the little cabin she’d been given. She could hardly imagine spending three
months into this little room. Inside was a small bed –more of a cot really- pushed up
against one wall. On the other wall there was a small desk and chair. On top of the desk
were two journals, one a gift from Christian and the other one Ginny brought. Ginny had
already poured her heart out in the one she brought. The one Christian had gotten her
would be filled with fake things in case he ever decided to read it, which Ginny assumed
he would.
Ginny supposed she should be counting her blessings instead of complaining. She could
have been forced to share a room with Christian. Due to the fact that they weren’t
married it wouldn’t have been proper if they had
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She had promised him that she would
never marry Christian, that she would never abandon him. He would think that she had
lied. He would think that she didn’t love him. He would think that she had been playing
with him all this time.
Oh if only he could know! Oh if only she could have written him one last letter, she
didn’t even need to see him, just write a letter explaining why she had accepted. If only
she could tell him how much her heart ached.
Ginny once again thought of the task that faced her. She was going to have to marry
Christian, Christian who was best described as a svengali. Stephen had called him that
once. A svengali was a person who exercises a controlling or mesmeric influence on
another. Ginny knew that Christian did not have a mesmeric influence over her, but oh
how he tried to have a controlling one.
Ginny knew how easy it would be to give into Christian’s controlling grasp. How easy it
would be to just give up, surrender to Christian. She wouldn’t do that. She was strong.
Ginny thought of the things Stephen told her. He was always there for her. Even if he
wasn’t physically there, he was there in