making its way up the hill.
I push away the sound of the tires skidding around the gravel corners, and stare up into the sky as it becomes like a vortex. The flakes swirl, taking my care and depth perception away. I tilt my head even more, letting the fat flakes fall into my mouth and land on my lashes.
I don’t close my eyes. I don’t try to block out the sound as it gets closer. I stare up into the snow and force a memory, one of a time I was happy. It was a moment, fleeting and precious. Her face makes me happy. She brings me joy as she becomes all I see in the swirling snow. Jane laughing and talking and living. Jane the way she was before Rory put us in a cage and made us something in his image.
I close my eyes and whisper to her, “Thank you, Jane.” When I open them I have a plan.
11. Poisoned princesses in a row
T he cage is different than it was last time.
He’s different too.
He’s no longer my prince; he no longer loves me.
Now, hours later, my wrists tear a bit, dripping blood down them onto my shoulders and back. I hang from a meat hook, suspended for his pleasure. It changes daily. Sometimes it’s the back of a hand, others it’s the feel of a rope stinging my back with every whip. The room is not a nice place. It’s not a proper cell. It’s just a spot for him to torture. And there is light here, just enough that I might see the hate on his face when he strikes me.
Jane walks through the room. At first I assume I’m dead too, but then I realize there’s just too much pain for me to be dead. Even God is not that cruel.
“Hold on, Ash. You are so close to being free.” Her voice is a whisper on the wind, and her lips do not move. She smiles at me and then she’s gone. She looks different now, peaceful and pretty, and for some reason I want to call her Bethany.
It’s almost comical to me, and clearly her, that I am back here.
I’d gotten away. I had to run for it.
I’d thought the vehicle was him, the one I’d heard coming up the hill. But it wasn’t. When I snuck down the hill and stole a truck, he was waiting at the bottom of the hill for me.
At the turnoff to Granger Mountain.
I just made it to the road when he rammed me with the Jeep, flipping the truck down a small ravine. The last thing I remember was rolling down the ravine and then waking here, hands bound and hanging over his shoulders. He was carrying me down the staircase. I passed my old door, my eyes half open and my heart completely broken. It was the strangest sensation. I wanted to go back in that cell. It was a safe place for me.
Now I hang here, waiting to be freed like Jane has promised, but certain that even death will not free me from here.
My eyelids grow heavy, too heavy. Maybe the loss of blood, maybe the exhaustion, maybe the torture. I don’t know which, but one of them claims me, and my eyes close.
Cold surrounds me, opening my eyes, but I don’t see. Jane is there. She cups my face, saying something, but my ears don’t hear. Everything is blocked and plugged and bursting. She lifts my face, and instantly in the light that’s above us, I see him. He’s covered in blood, but he’s not clear. He’s fuzzy, no . . . blurry. He washes his hands in the water above my face, looking directly at me. A sick smile crosses his face, his face that I can’t make any clearer than it is—even though now I see him for exactly who he is.
It’s then that my lungs try to explode inside of my chest and I realize I’m in the water. He’s washing his hands and watching me sink.
I start to thrash, kicking and screaming for the surface. Jane helps, I swear it. She pulls me to her, pressing her lips against my panicked mouth, and offering up air. The current catches me, dragging me away from him.
The sick smile vanishes as he watches me sail away, away to a freedom he doesn’t know I will find. He doesn’t know she has stayed behind to help me.
Jane—no, Bethany—presses her lips to mine again, filling
I push away the sound of the tires skidding around the gravel corners, and stare up into the sky as it becomes like a vortex. The flakes swirl, taking my care and depth perception away. I tilt my head even more, letting the fat flakes fall into my mouth and land on my lashes.
I don’t close my eyes. I don’t try to block out the sound as it gets closer. I stare up into the snow and force a memory, one of a time I was happy. It was a moment, fleeting and precious. Her face makes me happy. She brings me joy as she becomes all I see in the swirling snow. Jane laughing and talking and living. Jane the way she was before Rory put us in a cage and made us something in his image.
I close my eyes and whisper to her, “Thank you, Jane.” When I open them I have a plan.
11. Poisoned princesses in a row
T he cage is different than it was last time.
He’s different too.
He’s no longer my prince; he no longer loves me.
Now, hours later, my wrists tear a bit, dripping blood down them onto my shoulders and back. I hang from a meat hook, suspended for his pleasure. It changes daily. Sometimes it’s the back of a hand, others it’s the feel of a rope stinging my back with every whip. The room is not a nice place. It’s not a proper cell. It’s just a spot for him to torture. And there is light here, just enough that I might see the hate on his face when he strikes me.
Jane walks through the room. At first I assume I’m dead too, but then I realize there’s just too much pain for me to be dead. Even God is not that cruel.
“Hold on, Ash. You are so close to being free.” Her voice is a whisper on the wind, and her lips do not move. She smiles at me and then she’s gone. She looks different now, peaceful and pretty, and for some reason I want to call her Bethany.
It’s almost comical to me, and clearly her, that I am back here.
I’d gotten away. I had to run for it.
I’d thought the vehicle was him, the one I’d heard coming up the hill. But it wasn’t. When I snuck down the hill and stole a truck, he was waiting at the bottom of the hill for me.
At the turnoff to Granger Mountain.
I just made it to the road when he rammed me with the Jeep, flipping the truck down a small ravine. The last thing I remember was rolling down the ravine and then waking here, hands bound and hanging over his shoulders. He was carrying me down the staircase. I passed my old door, my eyes half open and my heart completely broken. It was the strangest sensation. I wanted to go back in that cell. It was a safe place for me.
Now I hang here, waiting to be freed like Jane has promised, but certain that even death will not free me from here.
My eyelids grow heavy, too heavy. Maybe the loss of blood, maybe the exhaustion, maybe the torture. I don’t know which, but one of them claims me, and my eyes close.
Cold surrounds me, opening my eyes, but I don’t see. Jane is there. She cups my face, saying something, but my ears don’t hear. Everything is blocked and plugged and bursting. She lifts my face, and instantly in the light that’s above us, I see him. He’s covered in blood, but he’s not clear. He’s fuzzy, no . . . blurry. He washes his hands in the water above my face, looking directly at me. A sick smile crosses his face, his face that I can’t make any clearer than it is—even though now I see him for exactly who he is.
It’s then that my lungs try to explode inside of my chest and I realize I’m in the water. He’s washing his hands and watching me sink.
I start to thrash, kicking and screaming for the surface. Jane helps, I swear it. She pulls me to her, pressing her lips against my panicked mouth, and offering up air. The current catches me, dragging me away from him.
The sick smile vanishes as he watches me sail away, away to a freedom he doesn’t know I will find. He doesn’t know she has stayed behind to help me.
Jane—no, Bethany—presses her lips to mine again, filling
Similar Books
