The Shadowy Grip Of Death

ELAINE

My mind was whirring as I flushed the toilet and stepped out of the stall.

Stepping up to the gleaming blue sink, I turned on the water and thrust my hand into the cold stream to calm my racing head.

It had been a very hectic evening, and to say I was tired was the understatement of the year.

I couldn't believe I had to go back to the party when all I wanted to do was hop in the first car that’d take me back to Giovanni's mansion and my bed. Even though the mansion was its own special brand of misery, at least in my room, it was quiet.

Turning off the water, I gripped the sink to steady my raging nerves.

I knew I was being naïve, but I hadn’t expected the ball to be filled with the same caliber of people my father associated with. It was stupid, but I thought Giovanni had been invited to a normal ball for charity, a fundraiser, or something equally benign.

But no. I was thrust into another hellhole filled with people who reminded me of my father for the sole purpose of being so