I swear this boy will be the death of me if I do not get him out of here. With trembling hands I take out the bar from the window and I look to my left to see that he is in fact the one who just rang the doorbell. He has his hands shoved in his pocket and he whistles away, unknowingly waiting to destroy my life.

"Timothy," I whisper, but he does not hear me. "Timothy," I say, slightly louder. Thankfully I have his attention now, but he is looking the wrong way. "Timothy!" I yell, with hopes that Madam does not hear me.

He flinches but he finally looks the right direction, I motion my hands for him to come to me. He furrows his eyebrows at me and I mouth a very desperate 'please' before he walks toward me. As soon as he crouches down I tug at his arm for him to come in and thankfully he obliges. I do not know how I will explain this to him but I do know I will rather have him here with me than with Madam.

As soon as I pull him in, I hear Madam open the front door and then she bangs it shut. Timothy opens his mouth to speak but I place my hand over his mouth. His eyes widen and I see a confused expression on his face, but he does not remove my hand. I hear footsteps coming closer so I scurry him over to my bathroom and push him in.

"Please stay here, I beg you," I plead before shutting the door. Seconds later, I hear Madam unlock the basement door. I move away from the bathroom door and stand beside my mattress. It is not unusual for me to stand by my mattress when I hear Madam fumbling with the basement door. My eyes avert to the bathroom door and my heart throbs, I quickly avert my gaze back to the basement door once Madam pushes it open.

She walks in with an expressionless face and my tray of food perfectly balanced on her left hand. She places the tray on my stool and wipes her palms on her apron. "Good morning, Madam," I greet in a soft voice, as I curtsy. I avoid eye contact because I fear that my eyes will reveal that I have something to hide. From my peripheral view I see her whole body is turned to me, and I feel her gaze on me. She stares at me for what feels like hours before turning around and walking back up the stairs. As soon as she is gone I let out a breath that I did not realize I was holding. Heaven is on my side today it seems. I wait for minutes till I hear her open the front door, and then I bring Timothy out of the bathroom.

"Why are you here?" I demand. I have my arms folded over my heaving chest as I glare at Timothy.

"You don't seem delighted to see me," he says in a low calm tone as a slight frown forming on his mouth.

"My parents will go crazy if they find me alone with a man," I huff. This seems to me like a reasonable enough excuse.

"Is that why you sneak in and out of your house?" He asks as he motions his head to the window.

"Exactly," I nod fervently

"So who's Madam?" he peers at me curiously, as he takes several glances around my room. He must have a long list of questions he is eager to ask me.

I clear my throat "My nanny, she is a witch of a snitch, that woman. If she sees you here my parents will find out and they will beat me with a stick."

He looks taken aback, but does not interrogate me on that. "How come I have never seen your father around?"

This boy should work at a newspaper company, he is questioning me like he is writing a front-page story for the morning paper. But as he asks this question he makes me think of the fact that I have never really asked Madam about my father. The one time I asked, she beat me so much that I thought she would kill me. Is 'he' my father, I often wonder.

"He lives elsewhere," I reply curtly.

"I'm sorry, am I being too nosy?" he peers at me.

"Yes," I say "I am not fond of talking about my life, and before you ask, I enjoy spending much of my time in the basement. I feel comfortable here, it is peaceful. And please never go to my front door ever again," I plead and he nods.

I can tell he wants to ask more questions, but my demeanor has discouraged him from doing so. He turns his arms to his back and observes my living space further. "Why are you here?" I ask again.

"I just wanted to see you. . . I needed to see you," he says, staring at me in a manner that makes my heart beat not out of fear like with Madam, but out of desire. But for what?

"Where are you from?" I ask, changing the subject.

"I'm from England, London to be precise," he smiles.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," he replies still with his sweet smile

"Why?" I peer at him.

"Well because of the year I was born, Cinderella," he chuckles.

Cinderella. Why does he insist on calling me that?

"No," I shake my head. "Why do you keep coming here? There is nothing special about me, you hardly even know me," I say.

"It's absurd for you to think there's nothing special about you," he says moving closer, he places his hands on my face and strokes lightly.

His hands are rough on my skin, but I like the way they feel. He is staring at my lips shamelessly, making me feel exposed. I fold my arms over my chest and take a step back. I do not remember how to breathe. "Even with all your scars, all your imperfection, I'm still so drawn to you," he says with so much sincerity in his tone and eyes. I blush. "You're precious," he says breathlessly.

I feel my heart falter in my chest. I take a step closer to him, curious to know what a man will do when he's so close to a woman he's drawn to, but I am also frightened that I will not like the result of my boldness. He stares at me intently and then he lowers his head and closes his eyes, he gently brushes his lips against mine, I feel his hot breath on my face.

"Truth is. . ." he pauses for a moment, as though he is nervous. "I never believed in love at first sight till I met you," he says breathlessly "and ever since I met you there's something I've yearned to do," he says staring at my lips again, he waits for a moment as though asking for permission. I nod and before I know it, he presses his lips unto mine. I feel a tear slip out of my eyes, is it normal to cry in a situation like this?

He pulls himself away and stares at me. "I must be crazy, because I think I'm in love with you, Cinderella" he says, breathing heavily.