No. You can't let this get the better of you. Don't enjoy it. This house...this place is doing something to you and you're going to resist.
Finally the wind dies down, and you attempt to quell the feelings in your privates. You really need to find a pair of panties.
Remembering something you noticed while the wind was whipping your hair around, you glance behind you. You grab your long tresses in one arm and bring it around to the front. It's not as straight as it was before. It has a distinct wave to it now. While it's lovely to look at, your hopes that food growing outside the house wouldn't affect you have been dashed. As you hold your dark waterfall of hair you also notice your fingernails have turned as black as your lips. You don't even bother checking to see if it's just thinly applied fingernail polish, knowing full well it was a permanent discoloration.
You look around at the hedge walls and think of a battle plan. If you looked out one of the higher windows you could draw yourself a map so you could find your way easier.
You re-enter through the main doors, closing them behind you, and rush up the staircase. Your recklessness costs you. You fail to raise your left platform high enough on one step and it catches, sending you toppling forward into the staircase. Fortunately your stockings take the brunt of it. At worst you have a bruise on your right leg below the knee, where it hurts you the most. This minor setback makes you even more determined to get away from this house as soon as possible.
You make it back to the third floor and enter the room you slept in last night. Ignoring the fact that the bed is now made and the towels dried and hung back on the rack, you rush to the window and thrust apart the curtains.
That pit in your stomach returns when you fail to find the hedge maze. Beyond the property is a plain forest, just like the one you walked through yesterday. You dart back into the hallway and run to the windows at the far end. There's the hedge maze, exactly as you saw it yesterday, confined to only a portion of the property near the statue garden. The path there, back to normal, leading deep into the forest you emerged from yesterday.
You rush back outside, praying that it wasn't just an illusion. You stop on the patio, which is as far as you need to go to see that the hedge maze is back, blocking the property all the way around.
"That's not fair," you pout. "That's not fair!"
* * *
You've been sulking in the garden for over an hour. The sun is in its afternoon decline. You're no longer looking up at it, however. You're staring at the grass with an empty expression. The dark dress, arm warmers and stockings have been soaking up the sun's rays, making you feel uncomfortably hot. Your leg's bruise throbs. You pay these little attention. You can't get your mind off the discouraging hedge maze and a house insistent on turning you into a frilly goth stereotype.
You realize that brooding is doing little to help your situation. You've got to stop fearing for your situation and act. You can still map out the maze, you'll just have to do it from the inside. All you needed was paper and a pencil. You've got all the time in the world, and the food available in the garden could easily last for a week or more.
Rising from the bench, your pale face is on fire with determination. One way or another, you're going to escape.