Page 2 of Wicked Games

Again, my mind screamed in desperation. This isn’t real!

It had become my mantra. My only shred of sanity… the last vestige of what was me.

This isn’t real.

I knew the truth.

At any moment, I expected to see the curtain ripped aside, and to face his damning anger. My whole body clenched as I braced for the inevitable pain.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Very good. Do not forget to latch the door before you extinguish the candles,” his clipped voice instructed before turning and leaving the room.

I remained crouched on the cold hard floor for minutes, perhaps hours, unable to even breathe, or to believe how close I had come to being discovered. Finally, I willed myself to move. I must. I was observed at odd times throughout the day, even in sleep. There could be a cry of alarm from my absence at any moment.

Slowly turning, I carefully released the latch and raised the window just high enough for me to slide my body under it. Sucking in a shocked breath from the cold, brittle feel of the icy blades of grass beneath my bare feet, I gathered up the fabric of my nightgown and took a few steps along the brick wall before finally making a dash across the manicured lawn for the safety of the woods just past the rising slope.

I had no idea where I was or for how long these woods stretched but they were my only hope. Even though the branches were bare, I felt their protective cover with each step I took deeper into the dark forest. Ignoring the bite of broken sticks and rocks on my feet, I ran steadily on, following the pale blue stream of moonlight like a beacon.

The ground began to slope downward. I strained to hear sounds of life. It was the middle of the night but still I hoped that some other being might be stirring. There must be someone out on this cold, full moon night willing to help me. There had to be, for deep down I knew I wouldn’t get another chance after this.

He’d probably make good on his threat and send me back to the asylum.

Just the thought of the horrors I endured at that terrifying place had me searching the forest floor for a sharp rock to use as a weapon. I picked up several before I settled on what looked to be a thin, shaved piece of rock from a nearby boulder. I tested the edge with the pad of my thumb. I had no idea if it was sharp enough, but I would find out if he tried to take me back to that awful place. My throat closed as I tried to swallow a sob.

I wanted my life back.

My real life.

Not this nightmare of confusion and pain that wouldn’t end.

Just then, I heard a familiar sound. The first truly familiar sound I had heard in months.

A car.

Not a carriage or a horse.

An actual car.

I was certain of it.

I fought back a wave of dizziness from the enormity of what I was hearing. I was right. I wasn’t going mad. I was right!

More important… he lied… about all of it.

Stumbling forward, I couldn’t have cared less about the crimson drops of blood on my white nightgown from my scraped knees as I half ran, half tumbled down the ridge, to the road I knew now was just out of sight.

Tears stung my chilled cheeks as I finally saw the smooth black tarmac.

A road. A modern road.

The car was already too far gone to hail but I didn’t care… there would be another. I was saved. Falling to my cut and bruised knees, I inhaled the pungent, petrol scent of tar as if it were the sweetest of perfumes. Despite the winter cold, the road still held some of the warmth from the day’s sun. I rested my cheek against it. Savoring the moment of freedom, I almost didn’t hear the next car approach.

Rising to my feet, I shaded my eyes from the harsh, bright headlights. It was strange how quickly my eyes became accustomed to only the soft glow of candlelight or the hazy flicker of a gas lamp. The artificial light was almost painful as it grew in intensity as the car came closer.

Not wanting to miss my chance, I jumped up and down and desperately waved my arms, moving dangerously close to the middle of the road. I could only hope the white expanse of my nightgown would alert the driver in time to my presence.

The tires screeched as the car swerved to the left to avoid me. The scent of burning sulfur permeated the cold night air.

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