Chapter 22 Nina

Chapter 22

?Nina

I run to the bedroom as fast as I can and grab the first set of clothes I can find, then without stopping I sprint straight toward the terrace doors. But when I press my palm to the panel the doors do not open.

" Bathsheba, open terrace doors," I garble, desperately trying to make my voice steady and clear.

Bathsheba does not respond.

"Unlock doors, Bathsheba," I try again, now desperately wrestling on the clothes and shoes. But nothing happens. I run to the console but the screen is blank, disabled.

My blood runs cold. Who the hell turned it off?

That is when I decide to run. I rattle the disabled handles. Someone has turned everything off and they are watching how I react.

This is Anderssen's Opening.

I stop what I am doing. If this is a game, if their advantage is that they can see me, I need to remove that advantage.

I head over to the nearest mirror and speak directly into it.

"Open the fucking doors," I tell whoever is watching. I give them a moment but nothing happens so I turn on my heels and head to the kitchen counter, grab a large pan, and head back to the mirror.

I stare through it with intent then slam the pan as hard as I can into the glass, shattering it, sending twinkling shards down onto the marble. The camera behind is revealed. I grab it, yank it out, hauling it into the room and onto the floor where I smash the absolute shit out of it before tearing out its cables and throwing it farther into the room.

Then I head to the bedroom.

"Open the doors," I tell the mirror there, the one I imagine watched me sleep and cry last night.

The doors do not open.

I rip the little drawer from the bedside table, scattering its contents on the carpet before slamming it into the mirror, which bursts apart to reveal another camera. I pull it free, wrench out its cables, and lob it as far into the hallway as possible. Then something catches my eye. There is something etched into the wall under where the camera was mounted. Words seemingly scratched into the concrete.

Whatever you do, do not go in the basement.

I had completely forgotten about the basement, the locked door, the secret rooms yawning out beneath me, but now they are all I can think of.

Either the notes are warning me or they are leading directly into danger. What I do next will decide how this plays out for me. I know it.

In chess white always plays first, always. In Anderssen's Opening white plays first but it is not a real move, it gives away its advantage in order to force black to, theoretically, make the game's first real move. It's called playing white as black, wasting your first move to see what theirs will be.

What will the other player do.

All things considered, the last thing in the world I want to do is go downstairs.

But then, as if on cue, downstairs I hear the access tone of the locked door activating in the corridor.

There is no way out, the locked door is now open, and the ball is firmly in my court.