Maria
After meeting Natasha, I'm no longer gawked at by the other women, and I like it. Unfortunately, the room's nonstop chatter and the smell of fish are getting to me, so I walk over to the French doors leading into the massive yard. I gaze at the tantalizing woods in the yard, imagining the freedom they promise, but not daring to wander into them.
Where would I go?
A rock and a hard place are my only choices. So, I walk a fair distance over to a garden bench and sit down, ignoring the men with sunglasses and earpieces watching me.
The grounds here are huge, and there are hints of roots and brambles all around, tracing a pattern that reminds me oddly of a maze.
A man whispers something I cannot hear as I approach. I roll my eyes as I pass him and make sure he sees it. These people
