A rattle behind the door fractured my concentration. Benjamin turned toward the door and an expression of sheer fright obscured his sweet face. A rush of panic rolled through my body and I broke into a cold sweat. My mind raced. I couldn’t leave little Benjamin in this cell but could I take him with me? I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to twist our captor’s mind to permit my own escape much less free Benjamin as well. Despite my doubts, I knew I had to try. Benjamin had been left behind by everyone he loved and he needed me. As the slow slide of a bolt release thudded behind the door, I braced myself for attack.
Focus. I frantically tried to remember how I felt when I had captured Jane’s mind but the memory seemed distant. I had only been vaguely aware of my actions at the time. I needed to fully control the process but I had no idea how to do it. What I did know was that I needed to get my captor’s attention and focus intently on the message I wanted him to hear. How to infuse that process with magic was still a bit of a mystery.
The door flew open and banged loudly against the stone wall. Though I knew what to expect, the sight of the wretched man still turned my stomach. Here goes nothing, I thought gathering courage.
The light was too dim to see the man’s face clearly and his heavy brows guarded his eyes. As he lumbered toward me, I focused intently on the dark holes where his irises should’ve been and frantically repeated a message I hoped would penetrate his thick skull.
Let us go. Let us go. Let us go. The command echoed in my head like a scream in a cave.
As the man plodded heavily toward me, the panic in my belly swelled to my chest constricting my lungs. It wasn’t working. I couldn’t see the man’s eyes and no connection had been made.
My vision narrowed as my grip on the situation spun out of control. I fought viciously to reclaim control but just as I regained focus on the man’s face, he stepped into the sliver of gray light seeping through the small window. He wasn’t looking at my face at all but the ground making my task impossible. My heart twisted and I blinked back tears of frustration.
With his wolf eyes cast to the ground, the man mumbled to himself shuffling past me and out of my line of sight. The chains behind me clanged and I was forcibly tugged backward. The man’s rough hands manipulated my wrists. He snorted and grunted with pleasure, likely at the sight of my self-inflicted wounds. Then like slipping off a tight shoe, the shackle released my wrist.
“Move, witch, and I kill ye.” He muttered smugly. I remained still, seething.
The second chain dropped, banging against the wall with a clatter. I clenched my fists tight savoring the sense of freedom and resisted the urge to pummel the burly man. He seized my arm and to marched toward the door. Frantically, I shot a compassionate gaze into the shadows where little Benjamin hid hoping that somehow he would understand that I would not abandon him.
Oddly, though the appearance of little Benjamin complicated my escape, the need to protect another person bolstered my courage. Anger at my stinking captor and anger at the idea of imprisoning a starving child welled in the pit of my stomach. My blood bubbled hot through my limbs.
We exited the cell into a narrow hall. The only light illuminating the path shone through scant glassless windows. The ceiling was low, nearly too low for the large man to stand upright. We passed door after door of the same crude design bolted firmly closed with thick metal latches. I mentally tallied the number of doors we passed so that I could remember which cell held Benjamin when I returned to save him. Moans and pleas seeped beneath the cracks of the doors as the prisoners heard us pass.
A flickering light came into view as we rounded a corner in the narrow hall. At the end of the hall, the man pulled me up a short stairwell and we entered a long room lit entirely with blazing torches attached to the walls. The heat and smoke emitted from the torches created a stifling environment. Gazing around the room, the anger fueled courage rattling in my limbs drained to my feet.
Devices I’d only seen in history books furnished the room like the devil’s parlor. The flickering light from the torches illuminated the slick stone floor revealing dark pools and stains beneath each device. I jumped as a train of rats scuttled boldly along the wall near my feet.
Silently, the man hauled me down the middle of the long room. We passed what I recognized immediately from grotesque sketches in books as the torture device called The Rack. I shivered noticing fluid dripping from something that looked like a metal coffin sitting upright against a wall.
The necessity to rely on instinct when mastering this lesson became clear. Instinct was all I had left. In an effort to preserve my sanity I felt doors in my mind slamming one by one, shutting out all that I could not bear.
Then we stopped. The hand gripping me released and I saw a wooden chair suspended high in the air by a frayed rope. Beneath the chair the stone rim of a well, just wide enough to accommodate a chair, held black water. The frenetic light of the torch on the wall flailed along the water’s surface as if condemned to sink.
11
“Eliza. Eliza? How are you feeling today? It’s almost 8 o’clock. Do you think you can make it to school or should I make a call?”
Suspended in a bog of exhaustion, I lay motionless and silent. Then I felt Jane’s warm hand stroke my arm. I was home, in my bed. The familiar chatter of NPR morning programming drifted into my room.
“Today is Monday, November 2nd.” The show host announced before launching into the morning news.
Monday… Monday? I jolted awake with a spasm like falling in a dream. My neck was stiff and it hurt to turn my head toward Jane. The morning light assaulted my pupils as I squinted into her face.
“Mmm, you still don’t look good, babe. I’m going to call the school.” Jane concluded and laid a palm soothingly against my forehead.
“I’ll bring you some tea. Just rest, ok?” She said softly before patting out of the room.
How am I going to explain this? I cringed. Though, what was there to explain when I myself was oblivious to my whereabouts and condition over the last 32 odd hours? I thought with chagrin. I eased myself carefully onto my elbows then scooted back against the headboard. As I lifted my hands to massage the ache from my eyeballs, the sleeves of my long t-shirt slid exposing my wrists. Identical cuffs of green and blue bruises accented by thin red lacerations jogged my memory.
Quickly concealing my injuries, I recounted the incident in my mind. The memory of the stone cell, little Benjamin, my hideous captor and the torture chamber sprang to mind easily in vivid detail but abruptly halted at the site of the hanging chair. I gazed down at my body, clad in pajamas then scanned the room. The clothes I’d worn on Saturday lay in a heap before my dresser. Spying the primer on my nightstand, my heart shuddered.
I wondered if Jane had dressed me. If she had, then she’d certainly seen my wrists. However, from the look of the heap of clothes on the floor, it appeared more likely that I had dressed myself.
Feeling like a detective with a handful of insignificant clues, I mulled over the critical questions. How did I escape? What happened to Sunday? What did Jane know?
Jane’s footsteps in the hall drew my attention. She entered with a pitying smile on her face and a steaming mug of tea cradled in her hands.
“You’re up. Well, I’ve already called the school and they know not to expect you. You’ll just have to relax if nothing more than for my sake today.” She cautioned maternally.
Unsure of how to draw out her knowledge I smiled weakly and accepted the tea.
“Thanks.” My voice cracked.
“Hopefully, it’s just a twenty-four hour bug.” Jane said offhandedly.
Inspecting my face she reached over and smoothed my hair with her fingers.
“You scared me yesterday rolling around in bed, mumbling that you were ‘Sick, just sick.’ If you hadn’t settled down last night, you probably would have woken in a hospital bed.” She sighed with obvious relief.
Jane appeared exhausted. I realized she must have been up k
eeping an eye on me all night. As if deciding she’d distracted me enough from the task of recovery, she rose slowly and stretched.
“Tea then rest, ok? Now that I know you’re feeling better I’m going to put a call into the restaurant to tell them they’ll have to manage without me this morning. Then I’m going to take a nap.” She said with an indulgent smile.
Sick, just sick. Well, that sounded like the kind of ingenious thing my subconscious would conjure to cover my tracks. That at least explained what happened to Sunday.
I glanced irritably at the primer on my nightstand. My fingers stretched out for it, drawn by a sick sense of curiosity. Then thinking better of it, they hovered trembling for a moment before I forced them to snatch the blinking cell phone instead, my eyes never leaving the cover of the book.
One thing was certain, the lesson had not been mastered and sooner or later it would resume. I inhaled roughly, suffocated by the thought of returning to that horrible place, then slid further across the bed from the nightstand, distancing myself from the primer. For now, it would wait.
The phone lay on my lap but I couldn’t bring myself to make the call. Ren would surely be wondering what happened to me. Or would he? The searing itch of my wrist wounds bated my anger. How could he have thrown me to the wolves so unprepared?
I opened the phone and noticed a scrolling list of missed messages from Ren, Bryn and Pete. I typed a short text message to Bryn and Pete informing them of my illness. Smugly, I decided Ren could wait.
Leaning back on the pillows, I gingerly sipped the tea. The traumatic details of my adventure played in my mind’s eye like a horror movie. As hard as I tried to remain angry with Ren and fantasized about revenge, the overwhelming sense of abandonment and deceit prevailed. I had opened up to him, trusted him and I thought he trusted me too… with the truth. But I’d been wrong. He’d let me walk into danger unprepared and I felt betrayed.
In tangent with my shattered trust in Ren, the realization of pervasive danger in my life stained my soul. Even if Ren had not intended to hurt me, turning me loose with the primer was no less dire than a mama bird pushing her chick out of the nest. Now fly or be eaten by the fox on the ground.
My limbs ached and a wave of exhaustion washed over me. Too tired to fret about the situation further, I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to pull me under.
The morning evaporated leaving afternoon, which slipped easily into night. In a state of sheer exhaustion, I dimly acknowledged the light that rose and descended outside my window. Jane delivered food and drinks at regular intervals and monitored my state, apparently satisfied that I was recovering. I spoke to her more freely after realizing she was oblivious to the strange events of my secret life. When the light finally disappeared, I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
When I woke again to morning light peeking through my bedroom curtains, I felt dazed but stronger. Hunger pains stung my stomach like angry jellyfish. I stretched my stiff limbs and crept toward the kitchen to start the day.
After managing to stomach a few pieces of toast with jam and some weak tea, I assured Jane that school would be possible and set about readying myself for the day ahead. Though I was certainly well enough to resume my normal activities, I was suspended in a state of doom. There was just no telling what lay ahead of me.
12
The cicada hum crawled along my limbs causing me to twitch with anger. I planted my eyes firmly on the window and watched the bare branches of an oak tree flap stiffly in the wind. During the walk to school, the crisp fall breeze fanned the candle of anger burning in my heart transforming it into a raging fire. By the time I arrived, I felt like a percolating kettle about to blow.
It seemed unfathomable that there was a fair justification for Ren’s actions. No matter what perspective I assumed my conclusion was always the same. He had not prepared me properly for my lesson and as a result I’d escaped torture, possibly worse, by the skin of my teeth.
As the electrical pulse grew stronger I pushed the anger out of myself in an attempt to send a primordial warning, if such a thing was possible. Real or imagined I felt his eyes boring holes in the back of my head. The image of Ren’s face flashed in my mind. Digging my fingernails against the edge of the notebook on my desk, I screwed my eyes shut and pushed him away.
The hum slowly stabilized. He sensed that something was wrong. Yeah, something is wrong very, very wrong. I thought bitterly. Though I sat under fluorescent lights on a tile floor, my mind was still trapped in a dirty stone prison. My fingers curled against my palms and I beat the desktop softly imagining the stone all around me.
“Eliza? Hey, are you ok?” Bryn slid into the desk next to me. I felt her curious eyes inspecting every inch of me.
“Not really. I’m still not feeling very well.” I muttered, avoiding her probing gaze. I hoped she wouldn’t ask for too many details about the illness that sidelined me the day before.
“When you didn’t call me back this weekend, I just thought you were wrapped up with Ren or something but Eliza, you really look terrible.” Her fair brows drew together, and she leaned closer to my side. I sensed the flutter of her fingertips on my forearm.
The kindness of Bryn suddenly cracked my façade. Tears sprang to my eyes and I blinked madly in an attempt to beat them back.
“It’s just been a tough couple of days.” I whimpered wiping the tears from my eyes. I peered sideways into Bryn’s concerned eyes and forced a small smile.
“Thank you.” I reached for her hand and squeezed it lightly.
The edge of the greenish bruise on my wrist unexpectedly slipped into view beneath my shirtsleeve. Bryn’s sharp eyes caught sight of it and turned to slits.
“The nerve.” She spat angrily. Quickly reviewing my disheveled appearance again, she tallied the facts in her mind, and sprang into action. Before I could stop her, she was viciously stomping across the room toward Ren.
My mouth dropped open to protest but no words came out. I watched numbly as Bryn began ripping mercilessly into Ren’s character before the half filled homeroom.
“You idiotic monster! Did you think no one would find out? You made a big huge mistake there, mister. I don’t know who you think you are but….” The lashing continued as more students filed into the room silently amazed by the ruckus.
Ren’s eyes grew wide and his cheeks flushed as he silently withstood the verbal assault. He shot a pleading gaze across the room but was intercepted by Bryn’s keen perception.
“Don’t you even dare look at her, you jerk!” She ranted.
I didn’t feel guilty for Bryn’s misinterpretation of the marks on my wrist. As far as I was concerned, Ren was partially to blame. The words she threw at him inadvertently relieved some of the anger pent in my chest. However, as it was nearly time for class to begin, I didn’t want Mrs. Hildebrand to witness the tirade for that would certainly escalate the issue. So, I briefly rubbed my eyes and temples to clear the haze before intervening. My actions and words would have to be firm in order to break the cycle Bryn had begun.
I stood confidently in the direction of the ruckus.
“Bryn, that’s enough. Let’s talk about this later.” I said calmly but loud enough for my voice to carry across the room and cut through her shouting.
She turned sharply around and shot an exasperated look at me.
“I mean it. Later, ok?” I responded with a commanding edge.
She pursed her lips and squinted aggressively at Ren before defiantly crossing the room and settling in her seat.
On cue, Mrs. Hildebrand glided into the room oblivious of the recent mayhem and greeted the class predictably. I reached across the aisle and laid a hand on Bryn’s arm. We exchanged meaningful glances before she smiled. I gave her a squeeze and mouthed a thank you to her before sinking back into my seat.
As Mrs. Hildebrand conducted her morning ritual of roll call and announcements, I became acutely aware of Ren’s piercing stare. Unable to ignore him completely, I was annoyed by his
expression of concern and confusion. How could he be ignorant of the trials I’d endured over the last two days? I fumed.
When the bell rang, I leaned toward Bryn and whispered a promise to fill her in later along with a solemn plea not to worry. Carefully ignoring Ren’s attentive stare, I merged into the stream of students funneling out the door into the crowded hallway.
My first period was study hall and I charged determinedly toward the library. Darting through the thick crowd I hoped to shake the nagging hum off my shoulders. Despite my best effort, Ren managed to catch me just as I slammed through the heavy metal doors, breaking free of the building.
“Just answer one question for me. Is it real?” I demanded in a harsh whisper, without breaking my stride.
“Eliza, please stop! I’ll tell you anything you want to know to the extent that I have the knowledge.” Ren’s pleading tone was resigned but his confusion apparent.
The sorrowful edge to his voice cast doubt across my assumption that he’d deceived me. My anger dampened, I tugged his sleeve to pull him into a quiet enclave against the building. Shielded from the stream of students rushing to class, I faced him and discretely revealed my wrists.
“In case you’re wondering why I’m angry. See exhibit A.” I gestured dramatically toward each wrist.
“So obviously the wounds remain but what I need to know is, are the consequences real?” I demanded again.
Ren’s eyes grew wide with shock and a flicker of panic waved in his pupils. His mouth twitched but he didn’t speak. His reaction created a sinking crater in my chest, as if my heart was imploding. He had not expected this. His fingers trembled as he reached for my hands then touched my wrists and inspected the wounds.
“How exactly did this happen?” He asked cautiously raising his eyes to meet mine.
“Well, let’s see, I freaked out when I found myself shackled in a medieval prison and managed to slice my wrists in the process.” I spat sarcastically.
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