Her prison was a beautiful one, but a bird in a cage would have had more freedom. Andy felt herself chafing and made another circuit, passing the same furniture as before. The same cold fireplace. The same rugs. The same locked cabinets and trinket shelves. How many times did that make? A hundred? Maybe five hundred? Maybe a thousand? It was getting hard to tell.
After her harrowing first night at the Garden, Andy expected to be thrown into hellish chaos the next day. She feared sleeping because of it. Closing her eyes meant becoming willingly vulnerable in a den of wolves. What if someone dragged her to the first floor while she slept? What if someone forced her into a room full of men? What if someone forced her to fill her bought and paid-for role as the newest play-thing at the Garden? No, she wouldn’t sleep and didn’t for the first three days. Her mind expanded with progressively dark scenarios. But the terrifying moment never came. No one came, for that matter.