The morning after the kidnap.
The melancholy of the weather sprouted brought a lethargic atmosphere to the Lebeau estate. The loosened bodies of workers slumped as they took their heavy steps, the flora and fauna withered in the gray skies, and the voices groaned and moaned. Heather brought her dainty fingers to bring a glass bottle of alcohol on a sleek silver platter. The soft clatter was drowned by the moaning winds. The winds replicated the sounds of the oppressed, the sound of the dead. The estate brought her state of mind to become morbid and mournful. It was the sadness that coiled around her thoughts, like a snake, nasty little beast.
She plucked out a roll of cloth bandages, setting them beside the bottle of alcohol. Next she grabbed a clean linen cloth to clean the open wound. From her memory, she remembered it being rather deep. She picked the platter holding the tray with caution. She closed the closet door and began to walk down the elongated hallway of the East wing. The hallways were empty and only the sound of the wind accompanied her. The cold weather brought bumps to rise from her pallor skin. The broken windows allowed the cold wind to break into the estate bringing everything to freeze at its touch. The silver platter gradually grew too cold, but the maidservant adapted to the cold. The wintry
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Heather took notice of the captive; blonde curly hair, a simple nightgown, and crimson red seeping through the nightgown. The cut possibly began the process of healing. Heather cursed herself due to her sedated aid. She took hold of the silver platter with one arm and the other slipped into her pocket removing a ring of keys. Each key was shaped different, some rusted, some chipped, and some was able to keep its steel form. She singled out a chipped and rusted key and opened the cage. She walked inside the cage and closed the door behind her before doing