Okay. There had to be a definitive way out of this predicament. I just hadn’t brainstormed what it was yet.
I glanced back up at the stain on the ceiling. It fueled my ambition to free myself. I didn’t want my own blood stains on any part of these walls.
Of course, there was always the high chance that Thom would return down to the dungeons and find me missing. There would be hell to pay in that instance. I would probably receive the beating of a lifetime if I escaped this bed. My mind was ping-ponging back and forth with what I should do and how I should do it.
But then there was the slim possibility, however microscopic, that in the chaos and tussle taking place upstairs with the escaped slave, Thom would forget altogether that I had even been down here in the first place.
The odds were against me, sure. But I had to try, because I was a fighter and not a coward. I still had the will to live and my survival instinct was always at a peak. My internal antenna was buzzing.
I had to do something. I couldn’t just let him have his way with me if I had a chance to escape.
I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled sharply, but I didn’t let the air out of my lungs. I held it there, suspended for several seconds before releasing it slowly. I needed to sharpen my mind and calm my senses to enhance them.
“You can do this, Sophie,” I told myself, using the nickname as my father always had.
I knew it probably sounded a little skewed, but when I gave myself little verbal pep talks from time to time in the third person and in my father’s affectionate pet name, it was almost as if I were channeling him. If I pretended hard enough, I could almost picture him standing beside me, coaxing me along.
No one had ever believed in me like my father. I had to honor his legacy. If I died, then it would mean he lost his life for nothing. I owed him, and my mother, more than that. I owed them my life, and that meant I had to keep on living it so that their spirit would stay burning inside of me.
I wiggled my toes and shifted my legs even though I was still bound by my ankles to the bedposts.
“At least Thom didn’t hit my legs,” I mumbled.
Normally, he knew better, but sometimes he got carried away in his sexual bliss. He wanted me to dance for him all the time. He wouldn’t injure my legs because it wouldn’t benefit him in any way to do so.
I grunted and pushed my weight out in an effort to loosen the ropes tied around my wrists. The raw skin burned and ached against the tearing pressure. I yelled out and stopped, panting heavily.
“No.” I shook my head defiantly. “I can’t struggle. The only thing that ever works is the path of least resistance.”
I had to constantly remind myself of that fact, something my parents had instilled in my brain from an early age, even if I had only had the luxury of being their daughter for seven years before I was torn away from them.
I tried to relax and clear my head of all the murky sludge that was emotionally weighing me down. I took measured, even breaths. I heard the alarms ringing on the floors above the dungeons, announcing in a shrill tone that there was a slave on the loose.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the slave would have in store for them if they were caught. If Thom or his guards recaptured him or her, then it wasn’t likely that they would live to see the light of another day.
Slaves disappeared all the time. I knew what that meant. Thom had his guards kill off the unruly ones, or the ones that gave him too much grief. When Thom decided he was bored with a slave, then he got rid of them.
In his mind, it was a simple explanation and action for decluttering his castle and making sure it didn’t get overcrowded.
Most of the slaves in captivity here with me were too scared to do anything too rebellious. If you stayed under the radar, it usually meant you could prolong your life somewhat. I wished I had that option, but as Thom’s favorite pet, I was always at the top of his radar.
I was beginning to over-psych myself, which suddenly summoned my wings, cloaking me on the bed. They had their sharpened tips, a defense mechanism. I had never shifted into them in front of Thom in a threatening manner, though. I wasn’t stupid enough to pull out a stunt like that. If I did, Thom would undoubtedly pull out the big guns on me. He would kill me himself with the entire brigade of guards and slaves watching if I ever tried to defile his dictator reputation like that.
“Come on, Sophie,” I told myself again. “Think of something. Do something proactive.”
Tears of frustration began to pool in the corners of my eyes. “Stop it,” I growled through clenched teeth. “You can’t show any weakness. Not here, not ever.”
Another superficial pep talk I liked to give myself. More often than not, it worked, even if it was only for a few fleeting seconds.
A few seconds later, I heard a noise coming from upstairs. I instantly froze. Every muscle in my body tensed up so dramatically that I began to ache all over.
I held my breath. I wouldn’t allow myself to breathe again until I knew exactly who was descending the dungeon staircase. I heard the footsteps. They weren’t pounding and aggressive like the guards would be. They were timid and wary, soft and delicate.
In fact, I had to crane my neck and pitch my ears to even hear the sound of the footsteps climbing down the stairs.
In an instant, I saw a figure appear from the shadows and move in my direction. I winced and braced myself. I hated to immediately assume the worst, but I wasn’t exactly on cordial terms with the other people in this castle.
Madeline, another slave, suddenly appeared in front of my face. Her gray-tinted and malnourished lips were spread into a pencil-thin line. Her eyes were large but otherwise didn’t exhibit any emotion.
Her jet-black hair was stringy and unkempt. It hung in greasy strands around her face. Madeline rarely bathed, and she threw a fit whenever Thom ordered the guards to hose her down. She was wearing a tattered and fraying nightgown that resembled a potato sack more than an actual garment.
Madeline’s feet were bare as usual and dirty. She had grime and grit under her fingernails. She stared at me as if she expected me to do something, me to free myself without the aid of another.
“Madeline?” I whispered.
My gaze darted with paranoia between her and the open door of the dungeon leading up the stairs. I licked my lips. My heart raced. “What are you doing down here?”
It was pointless for me to even ask Madeline that question. I already knew she couldn’t talk.
Madeline was mute. She had been for several years now. The poor girl was a few years younger than me.
She wasn’t as strong as some of the other prisoners. The beatings and the sexual abuse had gotten to her and progressively taken a toll on her mental health. A few wires had come loose in her head and now she wouldn’t say a word to anyone. It was any wonder why Thom kept her around, especially since she was always caked in dirt.
I tried to rear Madeline as best I could, to be a mentor or someone she could look up to or confide in, but it was difficult since Madeline couldn’t participate in conversations.
“What happened, Madeline?” I tried to lean up, but my suspended arms made any sudden movements impossible. “What is going on upstairs?”
I tried to read her eyes, but they just stared right through me, burning a hole. I had gotten used to Madeline’s quirks, but something about the way she was looking at me made me feel threatened.
“Where is Thom?” I asked.
Madeline slowly turned her raised arm in the direction of the stairs leading out of the dungeon. She pointed her index finger up with precise movement while keeping her eyes locked on mine.
“He’s still upstairs looking for the prisoner on the loose?” I asked.
Madeline gave me one slight nod. It was all I was going to get from her, and frankly, I had to count myself lucky to get that much from her at all.
I wanted to help Madeline. I wanted to nurture her through her pain and suffering she felt inside and out so that we could get through
the tough times together. She was the closest thing I had to a friend inside these castle walls, and that was saying something.
When I locked onto Madeline’s gaze, I saw how traumatized she was. I saw the torture flickering in those orbs. I knew she wanted to help me, but she didn’t know how. I did my best to infiltrate her disturbed mind.
“Madeline?” I asked. Since she had been giving me motions in response, I thought I might be able to get her to come to my rescue. It almost seemed too good to be true that she had stumble down here without a guard. “Is this a trap?”
I was skeptical she could have come down here without the accompaniment of a guard, so I waited, unmoving. I would be able to read the truth in her eyes.
Sometimes, not often, Thom allowed the captured swan shifters to roam free around the castle grounds inside and out, but only when each area of the castle was heavily secured. Right now wasn’t one of those times.
Madeline shook her head once.
No. The guards weren’t trying to bait me.
I allowed my shoulders to slightly relax, but I still kept my wits about me. There was a practical reason for Madeline’s appearance. There was probably just too much chaos ensuing upstairs for anyone to pay attention to her. She was a wispy and mousy wallflower. She was easy to neglect.
“Can you help me?” I cringed at the pleading turn my tone had taken.
I watched Madeline’s eyes flicker in the direction of my rope-bound wrists.
“Please?” I asked again. “These ropes are really burning my skin.”
I was hoping that Madeline could empathize with me somewhat. She had been tied and bound many times. All slaves had to struggle with the pain.
I looked at the ropes and concentrated on every woven fiber of them. My eyes locked in. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. It was surreal and unexplainable, just like the fire. I felt the same way inside, the same magnetic force driving me forward.
I felt a pain in the side of my head and then the ropes around my wrists and ankles disintegrated, crumbling to the mattress. I blinked. Was I seeing things? Having visions? I moved my arms.
Sure enough, I was able to draw them up to my chest. I rubbed the raw and swollen red areas of my skin where the ropes had rubbed against them.
I lifted my chin and glanced at Madeline. She had a stunned expression on her face. Her mouth was formed into an O of shock.
“Madeline…” I trailed off.
I didn’t know how to explain to her what had just happened, how I had seemingly broken the rope into fragments using only the power of my mind. I couldn’t explain it to her. I had no idea how it happened myself.
Madeline had been sitting beside me on the bed with her knees tucked under her. As soon as I spoke to her, she jumped off the bed as if I were a witch who was suddenly out to harm her. Obviously, that wasn’t the case, but Madeline’s delusional mind had weaknesses.
“Where are you going?” I shouted. “Don’t go get the guards.”
Shit.
What if she fetched the guards, or worse, Thom himself? No. Impossible. Madeline was too afraid of Thom to approach him directly. She never would have the guts to do something that brave. Not to mention, she didn’t speak. If she couldn’t talk, she wouldn’t be able to capture their attention for long enough for them to remain interested.
I sat there on the bed for several seconds before I retrieved my clothes from their crumpled heap on the floor and slipped them on. I debated whether to follow Madeline to make sure she wasn’t going to tattle on me, but I felt like I should give her the benefit of the doubt and trust her.
After a few seconds, I quickly darted up the stairs and out of sight, breathing a sigh of relief when I was able to get back to my upstairs cell without detection.
Since I was a favorite, I had the luxury of two cells, one upstairs and one down, which meant I didn’t have to stay cooped up in that dungeon all the time. Once I reached my upper cell, I settled in, frantically trying to figure out what to tell Thom. I would just have to do my best to convince him that he dreamed that he was dripping hot candle wax on me once everything had calmed down somewhat. I would insist that it hadn’t been real. It was the best solution to my problem, as long as I stayed put and out of trouble.
Off the radar. That’s what a smart slave would do.
In the meantime, I had to figure out how to build up this mind control thing. It would really enhance my likelihood of survival in this castle.
Maybe if I allowed myself to dream, I’d find myself beyond these restrictive castle walls, in a world full of freedom.
3
James
I knew these village streets like the back of my hand.
I had grown up in this quaint and charming small town, giving me the advantage against the guards who were unfamiliar with the side alleys and streets.
I could navigate best when I was shifted into my jaguar form, and I was in the race of my life.
I was also faster in this form, but the downside to that was that it wsa difficult to stop suddenly.
As I sprinted, a vendor pushing a cart full of pretzels and other carbohydrate delicacies stepped into the intersection directly in my path.
The pads of my paws ground against the pavement, but the impact was inevitable. Neither one of us was a match for the momentum of the situation.
I slammed into the side of his cart and let out a guttural groan.
I couldn’t stop.
“Hey, watch it!” The red-faced vendor wagged his balled fist in the air as he hollered in anger aimed directly at me.
I kept going. I had no choice. I felt terrible, of course, but I was being pursued by guards from the Master’s castle from where I had escaped several minutes ago, high up on the hill and adjacent to the snowcapped mountains.
Luckily for me, it was summer. The warmer weather made me feel more limber when racing through the streets in my animal form.
“You’ll pay for that, you know.” The vendor shook his head and crouched down to begin picking up the broken bits of dough and salt that had toppled onto the sidewalk below.
I knew that he probably had little patience for shifters, me included. If I could have done anything to help him in the moment, I would have. Especially since I’d just damaged his cart, directly impacting his livelihood.
Breathe in, breathe out. One paw in front of the other. I needed to watch where I was going so something like that didn’t happen again.
Another crash would just slow me down. I risked a glance over my shoulder. The guards were faster than I had expected, and some of them were in cars.
I continued to hurtle through the village, ducking and dodging through moving cars, pedestrians, and anything else that got in my way.
Escape was the only thing on my mind. The will to survive and flee the area before the Master’s guards caught me was vital. If they captured me, I was as good as dead.
I darted down an empty side street. An elderly woman wearing a white apron was slapping a small area rug against the brick steps of her apartment walk up.
Billows of dust began to plume into the air. The woman sputtered and coughed against the direction of the dust that the wind was taking.
I kept going, panting hard but not yet fatigued. I was surprised that the guards were still gaining on me. I guessed we both had specific motivations for continuing to press on, but for extremely different reasons.
Who was I kidding, really? I knew that the village was too dicey a place to run in order to escape. There were too many obstacles in my way. It had nothing to do with not being fast enough. It was the fact that the Masters’ top lieutenants were chasing me were in cars.
I was a jaguar, but it was difficult for me to outrun their cars because they were made for this shit. The engines were created for high speed chases.
There were still some guards on foot, but they were trailing significantly behind by now, clutching the stitches in their sides and doubling over to catch their breath w
hile holding their knees with their heads ducked down.
I allowed a smirk to stretch across my snout, but at the same time, I knew that I couldn’t get too cocky about the gap I was building between me and them. Anything could change in an instant. I was just buying time, really.
Every second counted, and every moment that I spent breathing the crisp valley air was precious. Hearing the hum of traffic and the occasional horn honking, listening to music pouring from pubs and restaurants, it was all valuable.
It kept me going.
I raced past a bakery and inhaled a glorious whiff of butter, sugar and, baked goods as I sped by. My mouth watered. Damn, how I missed delectable treats. I would kill for a chocolate cupcake with strawberry icing. I could practically taste the buttercream melting on my tongue like soft silk with a burst of strawberry flavor sending my taste buds on a wild ride.
Freedom was essential. Being in the center of the town gave me the fuel I needed to charge forward no matter what. This wasn’t the first time I had escaped, but last time I had gotten caught.
One would think I wouldn’t be stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. I had been sexually abused, whipped and beaten to a fucking bloody pulp, but I had survived. I was the Master’s favorite, which meant my life was spared. But it came at a price.
Sometimes when I was locked away in the dungeons of the castle and forced to have painful sex, I wished for death.
It was a pathetic existence when you would rather rot under the dirt than have a beating heart and air in your lungs. My mind kept ticking. I kept my pace.
Now wasn’t one of those times for me to wallow in my own self-destructive pity. I craved the crisp air. I loved the sting of the radiant sunlight above and the cobalt blue sky that looked as vast as the world itself.
I had to push through a little bit faster. Just a little while longer. I had this. I had learned from my mistakes from last time. I had grown wiser and mentally mapped out a route. But that was all just about the superficial planning.
In the thick of it, when I was actually out there living it and racing away from the guards who wanted me dead, it wasn’t as easy as it looked in my vivid and elaborate imagination. The reality was brutally different.
Dark Swan Page 3