Hidden Monster

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Hidden Monster Page 52

by Amanda Strong


  ***

  My eyes refused to open and yet, I felt awake. Or was I? I felt lucid enough to realize I’d blacked out in the middle of the performance. Of all the times! What had I done? Slumped on Tonbo’s shoulder or worse, fallen to the floor? My hip and shoulder throbbed against the unyielding surface I lay on. Yes, I’m on the floor. Good grief. A small groan escaped my lips. I didn’t recognize my own voice; it sounded like a muffled croak. Like I have cotton balls stuffed in my mouth. I moved my tongue around; my mouth was dry and caked in something metallic. Is that blood?

  I forced my eyes open; a dim light flickered from somewhere behind me, streaking the wall I was smashed up against with shadows. Inhaling sharply, I smelled dank air reeking of wet wood and rotten garbage. I lay in a fetal position, my arms hugging my knees. From what I could tell, I still wore the black dress. I unlocked my grip on my legs and tried to lift my arm up; hot pain seared across my shoulder blades. I gasped, panting, until it finally ebbed and became bearable. My wings are hurt! Where am I?

  I had to know; I took several steadying breaths and then forced myself to ignore the pain. Pressing my hand against the wall, I tried to propel myself around. Paint crackled under my fingertips, peppering my face with flakes. I pushed harder, fire coursing through my back and down my wings.

  I screamed and then clamped my mouth shut, trying to control my breathing. I didn’t want anyone to hear me. I’d learned my lesson in the cabin. No good thing came when I’d cried for help.

  I’d managed to flip over and faced my new prison.

  Right in front of me sat my only light source, a squat candle. Wax spilled down its sides and pooled on the ground, forming lumpy clumps. Wonder how long it’s been burning… how long I’ve been here. The candle wasn’t tall to start with, only a few inches high, and almost the entire center was hot liquid now. I could only gape at it; it felt like I was clinging to my last hope. The dancing flame seemed to mock me, as it buried itself further in the candle, shortening the wick. Shortening my time with light. I shuddered to think of the blackness I’d be left in when that happened. No time to waste.

  My throbbing body protested, but I forced myself to sit up. I glanced over my shoulder, my wings appeared whole, but I wasn’t ready to try them yet. I needed to know more. Starting with, where am I! Last thing I remembered was sitting in that theater, hating that fog.

  I sniffed at the air. Definitely musty, old… like that fog had been. Like the bug. I sucked in air. Oh my gosh! He has me! But how? Tonbo had been right next to me the whole time.

  “Stop,” I hissed. It didn’t help to get hysterical in the cabin, and it won’t help now! Need to think, Sam. How did you get here?

  My eyes took in what little surrounded me, hoping for a clue—cement floor, rundown walls, and a pile of trash in the corner. Well, that explains the smell. I lay in perhaps an eight-by-eight room with no closet. Maybe a forgotten cubby or hidden compartment. Nothing on the walls but large, ragged holes. The image of a raging lunatic smashing his fists through the peeling paint filled my mind.

  There has to be a way out, a door. I scanned the room and found a pitch-black opening directly behind me. My head had been near it the entire time I lay there. Creepy. The yawning, dark doorway terrified me. What waited for me in there? Freedom or torture?

  Either way, I had to find out. My gaze fixed on the light in front of me, the wax dripping down. I didn’t have much time left. I needed to act. My life depended on it. If the bug had me, he would come back. Taking in my battered state, I didn’t think he planned on playing nice.

  At least this time, I’m not tied down. I gritted my teeth and attempted to stand up. My vision became soupy, as I fought the torture shooting through my joints. I couldn’t make it up further than my hands and knees.

  I may be broken, but I’m not dead yet! And I’m not giving up. I shuffled forward, one knee, one hand, one knee… Then I stopped. I hauled back and gripped the hem of my dress. To my delight, it was already in shreds. I pulled at it with my hands, but discovered they were already bleeding from cuts and scrapes. I tore a large piece off with my teeth instead, reopening wounds and filling my mouth with blood. Spitting it out, I wiped my mouth clean with the back of my hand.

  Using the scrap of material, I scooped the small puddle of hot wax up, cradling the light in my hand. Shaking with adrenaline, pain, and fear, I pressed my free hand against the wall and used it as leverage to pull myself to standing. Got to get out of here.

  One step, two steps, three steps…

  I thrust my flickering flame forward and entered the black void. The floor was no longer smooth. Felt more like dirt. The air smelled earthy. Am I outside? With the candle, I could make out the wall next to me, smooth rock, well worn.

  I strained to see ahead but the blackness was velvet, thick and impenetrable.

  I had the sinking suspicion I was in some sort of cave. Carefully running one hand along the wall, I shuffled forward. After several steps, the space I was in narrowed considerably. Think I just entered a hallway or tunnel. The walls were on both sides of me. I forced my feet on. Eventually, this has to lead to somewhere, right? I just pray I get there before my candle gives out.

 

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