Chapter 21 Gilded Cage

• Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, painting golden rectangles across marble floors. Bobby opened her eyes to a ceiling she didn't recognize—carved moldings twisted into elaborate patterns that seemed to mock her with their beauty. Velvet linens wrapped around her like expensive chains, soft and suffocating.
• Fresh lavender drifted from somewhere near the nightstand, where white roses bloomed in crystal vases. The scent made her stomach turn. Down in the cells, everything smelled of rust and fear. Up here, perfection masked the rot underneath.
• Her fingers found the bandages at her wrists, tracing the hidden scars through gauze and tape. Each mark told a story she'd rather forget, carved into flesh that refused to heal properly. The bed felt foreign beneath her—too soft, too clean, too much like a lie.