Pushing the door to her room open, Arabella's first stop had been the table where she usually took her meals.
Her hands would have celebrated their newfound freedom from the weight of the poem anthology that had caused her wrists to ache if it weren't, of course, for the… Noises that had traveled to the young woman's ears.
From the bathroom they came or so thought Arabella. Thus, and very carefully, she approached the door, practically tiptoeing all the way there.
The sounds multiplied, were random and sudden. Sometimes they were reminiscent of footsteps, other times of rustling water, but there was also the sound of hard surfaces bumping together.
Heart thumping in her throat, Arabella's hand very slowly extended towards the knob that twisted right as she'd been about to grip it.
The door was yanked open in an abrupt manner only for the young woman to come face to face with the last person she desired to see at that moment.
