Sin and Swoon

by Tara Brown

  And then it is quiet again. I believe she has passed out from the pain. I only hope it was on her bed.

  Jane sighs. “She’s going to die.”

  I don’t have a response to that.

  Jane is quiet for a moment before whispering again, “What’s your favorite thing in the world?”

  I shake my head, not sure I can remember things like that. I make a throaty sound that’s meant to be a chuckle but it comes out too much like a cry. “I think my bar has lowered for any sort of standard. I think being in my bathing suit, sitting in a friend’s pool, with a drink in my hand and the sun on my face, could count as a top favorite now. Before it wouldn’t have even made the list.”

  “Mine is the History Channel. I miss it, and I never even noticed I watched it too much. The last thing I saw on there was about the women who were spies for Bletchley Park during the second World War, in England. They were common women to everyone who met them, nine thousand housewives and simple shopgirls, but they ended up being discovered as varying types of geniuses. They saved the British armies from many attacks by code breaking and finding patterns in attacks.” Her voice cracks. “I miss TV.”

  I nod, missing everything.

  10. The first snowfall

  I force myself to do the push-ups and sit-ups. I force it every day. I don’t like exercise, I never have, really, but the weakened state of my body is frightening. I can feel it. I don’t fight him at all anymore. There isn’t any point. He would win, no matter the effort I gave. So I play his game, I say the right things. I don’t even cry anymore. I hate that about myself. I wish I could cry, but I seem unable.

  Jane cries more lately. Sometimes when the fridge door is open I see the shock and horror on her face before she realizes I’ve seen it. She makes herself look calm again. We spend all our time huddled in the corner, giving each other private moments when we go to the bathroom. And even then sometimes we remain while the other pees in the dark. There are no boundaries. No walls. No defenses. He has broken them all, our mighty prince. He has torn down anything that stood between him and our total obedience.

  “I don’t feel so good.” Jenny speaks softly, her words slurring a little. She’s slowly gotten sicker and sicker. I did suspect infection, but now I think it’s a lack of will to live. I don’t think she’s eating. Rory hasn’t seen her since he beat her mercilessly, still the worst beating I have ever heard in this place.

  “You have to eat and drink, Jenny,” Lacey calls out to her. We’ve all been talking more since he nearly killed her. I don’t know about them, but for me the realization that we might be dead no matter how we behave has made me chattier. If I’m dead either way, I’d rather have spent my last days talking to them and not being alone.

  “I can’t eat. I just get sick.” Jenny’s voice is so weak I can hardly hear her now.

  “She’s dying. She has an infection. There’s no way she’ll make it if he doesn’t come soon,” Jane whispers from her bed.

  She opens her fridge and grabs a bottle of water, drinking some and passing the rest to me. I sit in the corner and nod. “I don’t know if it’s infection. It’s been a while since she got hurt, and she said it’s turning to scabs pretty well. I think she’s just giving up.”

  In the pale light of the fridge that now seems as bright as the sun, she gives me a weak smile. “It’s not so easy to stay strong here.”

  It’s almost as if she has split personalities sometimes. She is strong and brave and almost badass sometimes, and then others she gives in too easily.

  There are whispers amongst us, voices and noises of life, but the moment we hear the door we all stop. Like mice freezing when the cat enters the room, we sit and immediately start to pray to a God we don’t believe in. Not anymore.

  He saunters smugly to a door. Jane slowly closes the fridge, making the room black for us both. When his hand rattles the door and the lock I stiffen, holding myself so tightly I strain my muscles. But it isn’t my door he opens. It’s Jane’s. I back from the corner just slightly; we don’t want him to know about the crack we have picked open so we can see each other.

  The light in the hallway outlines my door, making it seem as if something supernatural is there, lighting up the space behind it. In the crack, with my one eye I refuse to tear away, I see him walk into her room, casting a shadow like a monster on her.

  “My prince, you’ve found me,” she mutters weakly, smiling and staring right in his eyes.

  He walks forward. “My beautiful princess, I have found you at last. I’ve searched high and low.” He walks to her, sweeping her up into his arms. He doesn’t do the needle with her or Lacey, not always. They’ve earned his trust. Their rooms are nicer too.

  She’s small and weak compared to him, but only for a second. Then she’s savage. She bites his throat, stabbing something I haven’t ever seen before into his shoulder. He screams and backs up toward the light in the hallway, but she kicks the door closed, making the room dark. She flings open the fridge, flooding light into the dark space as she snatches the key from his hands when he reaches for the wood stabbed into his shoulder.

  Her eyes meet mine, and in slow motion I watch as she tosses the key at the crack. I reach my hand through as he pulls the thing from his shoulder. I realize then it’s splintered wood, no doubt from the wall in her cell.

  When the key lands in my hand, his hand drives the spike of wood into her back, changing the look on her face from hopeful to something else. Perhaps it’s the end she knew she would meet. “RUN!” she shouts, and falls, tripping him as he tries to reach for me and the key.

  The fridge closes and the light is gone. She opened it to save me, to throw me the key. She had a plan.

  I back away, pulling my hand out through the crack, slamming my back against the wall of my cell as he punches the thing. I think he breaks it open enough that he reaches through, maybe with his whole arm. I can feel the wind and motion of him swinging it, and yet just missing me. Rage and screaming join the swinging arm and reaching fingertips. But it is all my imagination, for I see nothing.

  I stand, clutching the key, shaking and sobbing. The other girls are screaming, he’s losing his shit, and Jane is dying. Hot tears slip from my cheeks as slowly my hand lowers to the lock. I turn the key, clicking it once. It’s so loud to me, even over their screams, that it echoes in my mind. I am accustomed to the sound being horrid.

  I open the door a little, letting light flood the small room from the hall. I glance up, gasping when I see I am looking him right in the eye. I open the door wider, blocking him with it and slipping into the hallway as he screams, “Don’t you dare, Princess! Don’t you dare!” I pull the key from the lock and close my door again, locking it. I can’t help but wince with the sound of the clicking metal inside of the door.

  When I turn, there are so many doors and bright lights, I don’t know which way to run.

  So I start turning keys in locks. When I open a door to a blonde girl with a crazy look in her eyes, I toss the key at her. “Free the rest; I’ll find the way out.” I know she’s Lacey.

  I turn again, running for the main entry as far as guessing will get me.

  One door is a closet, with clean linens, the ones we change our own bedding with once a month.

  Another door is the stairs to the bathroom. I have been carried up it many times.

  I turn and open the last door on my left to find a set of stairs I have never seen before. So I climb until I find a hatch. I push on it, my poor feeble arms failing me. Just as I am about to give up I feel a switch next to the latch in the ceiling. I press it, sighing as the lid that is the ceiling lifts and the floor of a garage, the barn next to the cabin, is revealed.

  I pull myself out. My legs are weak from limits to workouts and walking, and my skin instantly tenses, maybe afraid of the elements that might be out here.

  My feet are cold and bare, but I don’t bother acknowledging the sniveling my addled brain is attempting.

  Jane
has died to free me.

  When I get outside, the air around me is crisp and cold. I pause, taking in the breathtaking view of the mountains.

  I glance back at the hatch in the floor, but no one is coming. I nearly walk back to see what they’re doing, but something inside of me screams for me to run, just the way Jane said it. So I do.

  I turn and flee from the barn, running down the driveway and across the street to the woods. I push myself hard, until the woods cover me.

  The mist swirls, attempting to blind me, but I don’t dare back down. I push through, sucking in air so heavy I can barely get it in all the way. Something in my back stings. It’s the thick mountain air and the elevation in my lungs. I’m not used to exerting myself up here.

  Branches stab into my bare feet, but I don’t feel them the way I should. My whole body ignores the pain. My mind reels as my fingers reach for the branches to pull me farther along.

  My panicked breath and heaving chest are like percussion instruments in my ears, where blood is racing through at a rapid rate. The crunching of the sticks and branches seems to scream of my trail. Even the rocks and dirt try to betray me by announcing where I’m running.

  Light filters in through the green canopy as I slide over logs and branches to get deeper into the silent woods.

  Then I hear it—the worst sound ever.

  “Ashley! I know you think you can get away, but it’s a hundred miles in every direction! Princess, we can talk about this!”

  I duck, hiding behind a log and some ferns. I know my dark hair and filthy skin have to be shielding me, camouflaging me from his eyes, but the shaking in my aching body and groggy mind seems to make the woods move in an unnatural way. The trees vibrate with me, and the leaves crinkle and crunch even though nothing is moving, nothing but my beating heart.

  “Ash, my sweet princess, I’m not mad, I swear! Just come out and let me tend to your wounds! Come on, Princess, come back!”

  His voice grates on my skin, his accent driving me crazy. It doesn’t matter if he whispers or shouts, the sound is the same. It nauseates me and haunts my mind with memories—all groggy. But his whispering breath on my rocking body is as clear there in my mind as it is in the woods. Him inside me, pushing harder, spreading me open to him as he violates even my soul.

  I hold my breath as he enters the woods. “You’re bleeding! Let me make it better! The animals will track you!”

  I cringe, thinking about him, but I don’t move. I don’t dare run for it. I wait. He can’t see me, and I might have run in any direction for all he knows.

  His breath and heavy steps fill the forest with echoing noise. It’s then I see the clouds rolling in behind us, over the mountain peaks. I realize the air is colder than I thought it was. It’s winter, I think.

  I hold my breath, straining my lungs and making the pounding in my head worsen, but it isn’t worth it to let him find me. I force the image of him pinning me down, whispering his love for me with every thrust. It stops the pain, and it pushes it away with intense amounts of fear.

  “Ash!” His voice sounds farther away, but I don’t lift my head to look. I wait, because there is no way to be sure. My ears are still thick from the thin air and elevation.

  A hot shiver breaks out, making me breathe again. The feeling of a fever and possibly a sickness of sorts starts to surface. I hope I’m not sick, but being in a dank cellar for months can’t be good for anyone.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I don’t know how long I will last here in the woods, in the cold, bleeding from my feet and hands. I do know I will die here freezing, surrounded by trees, before I will let him find me. I will lie back and stare at the stars for Jane and me. Together we will see the stars one last time.

  His footsteps crunch, leading away from me, but his words are still there. “When I find you, you’ll be punished for every day you hide! Make no mistake, Princess, I’ll find you!”

  The word Princess makes me want to vomit.

  I sit, wondering if he’s messing with me, waiting for me to make the mistake of standing. But I’m not that dumb. Not to mention, my legs are not that strong. They’ve sort of failed me, in either paralyzing fear or crippling weakness. When I needed them they worked, but now they’re heavy like they’re soaked or caked in mud.

  My brain whispers something about adrenaline and lactic acid, but I don’t care for the nurse’s knowledge I have locked away from the three months of courses I’ve taken.

  I care about getting off this hill and finding help.

  When I don’t hear him again I start to breathe normally. I don’t move until I hear the Jeep. He skids away, driving like a maniac. The maniac I didn’t know he was.

  Then the adrenaline hits again.

  I force myself to stand, pushing my feet to run from the forest, toward the barn. The road will allow an easier escape than the woods.

  I turn from the woods, making my feet and legs move as I make my way to the road. The drive up here to the cabin revealed several cabins along the way. If I can get to one before he finds me, I might make it. I nearly go back for them, the other girls. But in my racked brain I know one of them gave him the key. They don’t want to leave. They don’t want to be free. They fear his wrath more than they desire freedom.

  I hate myself for thinking it, but I don’t believe they deserve the freedom my friend—no, my sister—died for. She became family in there, in that hole.

  I run down into the ditch, splashing the frigid water up my legs as I make my way to the closest driveway. I’m out of breath and light-headed, but clear enough in thought to realize the closest cabin is a mistake. He’ll go there once he realizes I haven’t made it to the bottom of the hill.

  I run past the second driveway, scrambling from the ditch and crossing it carefully. When I get to the third driveway I almost run up it, but my brother’s voice rings through my head. “Three times lucky.” I don’t know why; perhaps because I’m a bit dehydrated and exhausted and my mental state is a mess.

  The fourth driveway is a ways down the hill. The blind corners along the road frighten me. I struggle to get past the ditches and rocks. My feet have stopped hurting, with the cold water making them numb.

  Breathlessly, I climb up into the fourth driveway, staggering and limping as my muscles freeze up.

  I back up the driveway, forcing myself to watch the road and woods, in case he’s there somehow. He’s smarter than I am.

  My legs buckle, dropping me like a sack of rocks to the gravel. I wince, feeling the jarring in my neck, but I grip the cold rocks and scramble back up.

  A shrill noise rips through the air. It’s an animal, but I don’t know what it is. It sounds terrifying and close by. I hurry, limping brutally because the lower part of my left leg has gone totally numb.

  The cabin is nicer than his, but has no barn for the ATVs and snowmobiles. I hurry to the back, trying every window and door. None are open or unlocked. I slide down the back of the door, desperate to rest a minute and listen for him. I’m just grateful the snow hasn’t fallen up here yet. The path would lead him right to me.

  Every sound becomes louder as my breath softens in hesitation. I expect him to run from the woods any moment, leash and collar in hand, to drag me back to my cell like a caged animal. I expect him to make me beg and make me tell him I love him and he’s the man for me. I expect to die crying and begging for it—not his love but death itself.

  My eyes long to close, my body whispers Let’s give up as my heart aches from the memories that are filtering back in. Memories I will never be rid of or solve even. I won’t ever know what it all meant to him, what I am to him. What I am representing or curing. What void I am filling. What in God’s name could have happened to him to make him so evil?

  A sound catches my cold ears. I glance up into the darkening sky as snowflakes begin to fall. A tear drips from my eye as I realize it’s the first snow of the season. It’s the first snow I have seen in a very long time. Each flake feels li
ke a little burst of energy and bravery. Each one is a kiss from my friend, whispering for me to run more. Run down the hill. Find a vehicle. It’s what Jane would have done.

  The sound gets louder as I realize it’s a vehicle 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

  The 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.