Cinderella Lane

by Alicia Donovan

  Lane remembered the happy faces of the children, her only joy. Had the parents ever suspected the participants in the charade were less than enthusiastic? That their favorite princess was a little slow or clumsy? How many times had she internally screamed for them to help her as she smiled for the camera? That is all she could ever do with Prince’s costumed goons watching her every move.

  Prince shifted, drawing Lane’s attention back to him. Her hands tightened on the smooth material of the chair. She wanted to cry out, to jump from this chair and run, but Prince had conditioned her well. Lane had seen Prince angry. She shuddered. No one ever wanted that.

  Prince turned and walked toward Lane, his leather shoes tapping against the tile floor. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

  Prince chuckled. “Oh, you’re awake. You put it together, did you? Yes, I’m Officer Wilderson. It was a great way to monitor you until that detective got in the way. It also gave me access to the entire hospital. No one questions a police officer.” Prince leaned in to whisper to Lane. “I think I’ll keep up the ruse. Never know when it may come in handy.”

  Prince straightened and put a hand on top of Lane’s head. “You’ll be happy to know your room at home is waiting for you.”

  Her room? Her cell. A glass cell that never broke no matter how hard one pounded on the smooth surface. No, that did not make her happy.

  As Prince stroked Lane’s hair, goosebumps rose and covered her. It took every effort she had not to scream. But anything she could use to get away from him, including her voice, must be used wisely. Lane would only get one chance.

  Lane grit her teeth as Prince reminisced. “You always loved dress-up time, seemed to enjoy the primping as you sat with that little smile on your face.”

  Lane squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push Prince’s voice away. He didn’t need words from her anyway, he never did. Prince always wanted to do all the talking, especially when it included telling her what to do.

  Lane tried to ignore the cologne wafting from his body, a smell she would never forget. If she could endure it for two years, she would do it for a little longer. Long enough to make it out of this room.

  Lane pretended to be paralyzed by fear. At least, that’s what she told herself. Because if she admitted otherwise the despair would be too crippling. It would be the end of her.

  Prince pushed on the back of Lane’s head, forcing her to bow. A favorite trick of his to check her compliance. Lane allowed it, but lifted her eyes and scanned the room as he slowly shoved her down.

  Lane’s long hair swept past her cheek, and she startled. He’d dyed her hair! Her naturally blonde hair was now dark as night. For some reason, it was this that started the fire of anger in her. As the burn grew, it pushed the cold fear away.

  There had to be something in this room to use against him. Lane wouldn’t go with him. She’d willingly die first.

  Once Lane was where he wanted her, Prince stroked her hair as if she were a good puppy. He lowered to murmur in her ear. “Remember, my Cinderella, the red ballgown I bought you? It was just the tiniest bit snug. You had trouble breathing in it, but your waist seemed so trim.”

  For a moment, her resolve broke, and Lane sobbed. She’d fainted over and over that day. If she showed any discomfort, Prince punished her, so she’d pulled in tiny intakes of air, but they were never enough. She’d spoiled several wealthy customer’s portrait pictures, and Prince had been infuriated.

  Lane shook herself from the memory. She had to ignore him. She was not helpless, not at his mercy, and he could not simply disappear her from this place at will. Someone would notice. Someone may have already. Hope rose in Lane as she imagined Aaron coming back from the cafeteria to find her gone. He would search for her.

  Prince was still at Lane’s side, whispering in her ear, touching her hair. But she’d mentally pushed him away until he was a shadow of what he’d been a moment ago. Lane had done this before, many times. It was how she survived.

  Lane kept Prince where he was and continued to scan the room. She sat in a chair in the center of a large exam room. A long metal table stood to her right. Lane prayed he would not put her there. Cabinets lined the walls, offering her hope. Maybe they held something she could use as a weapon.

  Lane’s gaze darted from where she sat to the cabinets and back again. It was so far away. A privacy curtain blocked Lane’s view of one corner of the room. She stretched her neck to peek around it but gave herself away as she did so.

  “Tsk, tsk, Cinderella. Whatever are you doing?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Prince squeezed his large hand around the top of Lane's head, forcing it back where he wanted it. He slid his hand down her skull to her neck. She gasped as Prince wrapped his smooth fingers around it. They almost met at the front of her throat.

  Lane berated herself. Why had she done that? Prince never let even the smallest infraction go.

  He crouched and peered at Lane's face. "Don't. Be. Naughty." Prince tightened his fingers, just a little.

  Lane gulped and hauled in a breath, waiting for what was coming. He squeezed harder. Prince's grip didn't shut off all of her breath, just most of it.

  Prince observed her as if Lane were a bug he was about to stomp. He raised his other hand, threatening her. But would he strangle her to death? Probably not, but Prince could make her wish he would.

  Lane sobbed as his large hand came closer.

  Prince gave the back of her neck a shake. "Four days out of the pen, and you think you own the world. No, Cinderella, you do not. You will never win this. Do you understand?"

  Lane tamped the fire in her belly and gave up any tiny bit of resistance. Not yet. It wasn’t the time. Instead she sank further as Prince pushed her face to her knees. Closing her eyes, Lane let the tears flooding them the fall. Prince nodded in approval.

  Prince crouched and wiped the tears from her cheek. He squeezed Lane's neck again and seeing a wince, but no defiance, he smiled. It was enough for Prince. He went back to running his hand down Lane's hair.

  Lane kept her eyes closed. She wouldn't be able to stop herself from searching for an escape, and Prince would be alert to her every move now. Terror gripped Lane and battled with her anger. What could she do? It would only get worse from here. Once she was out of this building, he would put her back in that glass cage.

  Lane strained as she listened for any sounds outside the room. But the door to the hallway was closed, so she heard little until a bang sounded. Lane glanced at Prince, hoping it startled him, but he kept on as if nothing disturbed him.

  Where were they? Why did he feel so secure?

  Lane peeked at the walls—block, gray walls with high windows. A basement? She studied the exam table out of the side of her eye. It wasn't normal. Not only made of metal, but it had a lip and a drain.

  They were in the morgue.

  Panic raced through Lane, and she froze. It was just as well. Any unauthorized movement would set Prince off. Her chest heaved once, but Lane quickly tamed it, though the same couldn't be said of her thundering heart. Ignore it, focus on the positives.

  She and Prince were still in the hospital. Aaron would find her. Until then, Lane needed to be careful, so very, very careful. Prince would not kill her. She didn't make any money dead. At least, Lane hoped that was the case.

  Lane's mind swirled. So, he’d brought her here because it was a safe place for him. Why?

  Lane glanced out the short windows at the top of the block wall and saw darkness. The workday was done, and everyone had gone for the day.

  This part of the hospital was empty. Lane shuddered. Of course it was, who would want to be in a morgue at night?

  Lane shot a look at the cabinets. If this were a morgue, sharp pointy objects would be in those drawers. She had to get to them.

  Lane's last day with Prince flashed into her mind. The day he laid her on the glass. Lane had tried to escape that day, and he'd stabbed her for it. If Lane tried again today and didn't
succeed, he might just finish her.

  On that day, Lane had been naughty, very, very naughty. And this would be so much naughtier than that. Before, Lane had merely tried to slip away. Today, she would have to take him down to do it.

  Lane let her anger grow until the blaze roared. One thing Prince Charming didn't like was an unmanageable princess. And she was about to become the most unmanageable of them all.

  Lane glanced at Prince and steeled herself. He'd gone back to where he was before with his back to her. What was Prince doing? When Prince's stance changed, Lane knew he intended to be there a while.

  Lane hauled in a deep breath and shoved her final fears away. He’d left her here, sure she would obey. Lane held back a chuckle. There would be no more blind obedience for her. She needed to move now!

  Lane pushed out of the chair and raced for the drawers as quietly as possible. She pulled at one then another, shooting a glance at Prince who still stood with his back to her. Lane grasped the handle of another and yanked. Locked! All locked!

  She wouldn't give up, wouldn't stop, even as Prince's shoes slapped against the tile as he came for her.

  Quickly, Lane reached for the next and the next. She startled when one gave way for her, its metal tools clanking together with the force.

  A scalpel lay there almost shining in the light.

  Lane grabbed it and turned. Prince stood behind her with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face. Lane looked from the scalpel to him. It was so small and Prince, so large.

  Lane's petite hand shook around the small blade. What had she been thinking? How would she ever win against him?

  Prince tracked Lane's every tremble, every shiver. He was good at that, enjoyed the game.

  Lane's eyes darted between him and the door. She knew his plan. Let her almost make it then come for her. That bit of hope would make her failure that much more tasty for him. Watching them crumble to nothing had always been Prince's favorite part.

  Lane braced herself. She wouldn't fall apart. When he came for her, she would use the knife as fast as possible. The idea made Lane sick, but she had every right to defend herself.

  She needed to make her mark. Even if Lane never made it out of the room, this Prince needed to know Cinderella wasn't going to the ball anymore. Forever.

  Lane squared her shoulders and glared at Prince's mocking face. She needed to get this over with, one way or the other.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lane raced for the door. Her only chance was to run faster than Prince. Her legs pumped, bare toes bending to the floor to help propel her forward.

  She almost made it.

  Prince came from her left, swiping at her with his long arm. Lane dodged it, tightening her hand on the blade. She was close, so close. A few more feet and she’d have her hand on the door.

  At that moment, he was on her. Grabbing Lane’s arm, Prince yanked her from the door to him. She barely kept hold of the scalpel.

  Lane plunged the sharp knife to his middle. It slid through his skin so smoothly, Lane barely realized what she’d done until Prince howled. He shoved Lane’s arm away, then grabbed and shook it until the scalpel fell to the ground.

  Prince backhanded Lane hard enough she would have fallen to the ground if he hadn’t caught her in his hard grasp. Her head spun from the blow, even more so as Prince threw her over his shoulder.

  Prince put a hand to his stomach, making a sound of disgust. He turned away from the door, and Lane reached a futile hand toward her only hope of escape as they moved away from it.

  Prince walked to the middle of the room where the steel table sat. If he made it to that table, she wouldn’t be around much longer. Lane banged at him with her fists, clenched at his clothing, hoping to find something. Prince was double her size, there was no hope.

  He continued his sadistic game, holding her by one leg and allowing Lane to drop further down his back. In a mad scramble, Lane grabbed at anything to stop her fall. Her hand slipped into his pocket and came out with a hypodermic needle. Something he had planned for her, no doubt.

  Still wearing only a nightgown, Lane had nowhere to hide it. She clenched it in her hand using the length of her arm to protect it.

  When Prince reached the end of the metal table, he flopped Lane onto it. Her skull bounced against it, causing the metal, and her head, to ring. It was purely accident Lane landed on the arm grasping the needle keeping it in her hand.

  Lane groaned and trembled so hard the table rattled as Prince slowly lowered his face to hers. “Look what you did!” he said, lifting his shirt. His show-quality abs would never be the same. While it was not life-threatening, the mark would always be there, always marring his perfect body.

  Prince had never been so furious. He pounded his fist on the metal beside her head until her ears rang. He leaned over her and whispered, “You are done now.”

  Lane whimpered. His whispers frightened her more than his shouts. Lane’s hand convulsed, reminding her she still had a weapon.

  Lane had one chance, and it was now. She buried herself in rage to give her the strength she needed. Lane locked her defiant eyes on his boiling ones, holding his attention, while she readied the injection. Then she slammed the plunger down.

  Prince yelled and jerked away. But Lane wrapped her arms around him and went along. She pushed the plunger, making sure all liquid had gone from it to him.

  Prince grabbed her arms and yanked them down, throwing her away from him into the side of the table.

  Lane felt a crunching snap as she hit and her breath left her. She fell to the floor gasping.

  Prince took his time making his way to her, his face set. “That will not do anything to me. It’s only enough for a little, bitty person like you.”

  Maybe, but perhaps it would slow him down. But she couldn’t stick around and see. Tears coursed Lane’s face as she turned to hands and knees to crawl away. Prince reached down for a leg and dragged her back.

  She fell face-down onto the floor with a smack, pain radiated from her side, and Lane gasped. She turned to face Prince. Lane was beyond fighting, but she would make Prince look at her. She waited for his move, but Prince stumbled, stopped, and wavered.

  Now! She had to go now! Lane pushed herself up, crying in agony as she did. She raced to her escape as quickly as she could. Hand on the door, she glanced back.

  The injection clearly had been stronger than Prince had thought. He lay on the floor in graceful slumber, more beautiful in sleep than he ever had been awake. Lane shivered. Prince’s beauty meant nothing because evil had worked its way to his core.

  She smiled. She had won after all.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lane pulled the door open, ignoring the pain in her side and stepped into the hallway. Inside, she felt the strength of a victory song, but outside her body showed the effects of battle. Lane stumbled down the deserted corridor, looking for help.

  A woman pushing a laundry cart came Lane’s way, and when she got a glance at the hurt girl gasped and immediately rushed to her. The lively woman dragged Lane to a security guard standing by an elevator as she chattered away in Spanish, a language Lane knew little of, but some words got through.

  They had been looking for her.

  Lane thanked the woman over and over, then turned to the guard, leaning heavily on him. The guard led Lane a chair, and smiling at him, she sank into it. He pushed the elevator button over and over as he spoke into his walkie.

  The guard came back to Lane, brushing her hair back to see the extent of her head wound, asking her about the side Lane held a hand against. He was part of the search party he said. One Aaron had insisted on.

  When the elevator doors opened, a single man stood there. Dark brown hair, liquid brown eyes. Tall and lanky, but able to bring a man down if he needed to. Somehow she just knew it was Aaron. Lane smiled. She had seen no one as beautiful as this man. This man who ever so gently placed his protective arms around her, who whispered his apologies for something h
e had no control over, and who smoothed away what hurts he could.

  Tears flooded Aaron’s eyes as he held her gaze. “Lane?” He didn’t need to say the rest, she understood.

  Lane nodded. She was fine now, she really was.

  Two more police officers were the elevator’s next passengers. Lane pointed the way she’d come. “He’s down there, in the morgue. I gave him the injection he intended for me. He was out when I left.”

  Lane turned her attention back to Aaron as he took her hand. “It’s all over now,” he assured her. “Can I take you back to your room?”

  “Please do.”

  Aaron help Lane up, putting an arm around her to support Lane as they walked into the elevator. Lane leaned against Aaron, soaking in his strength. Now she was safe.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  A little while later, Lane laid on her bed almost entirely covered with a blanket. Only her head and one hand, almost encased in Aaron’s, were able to be seen. An x-ray had shown two broken ribs. Her head still swam from a concussion.

  Lane winced and tried to adjust her position. With these injuries, she couldn‘t get comfortable.

  Aaron stood. “Would you like a pillow behind your back or for your head?”

  “I don’t think so. Nothing will really help.”

  Aaron nodded and looked to the floor. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  It sounded like a confession. Lane raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

  “Yes, right now. I need to get this over with because it might be something that’s a—” Aaron squeezed Lane’s hand. “a deal breaker.”

  Lane’s stomach tightened and her side twinged again. “Okay.”

  Aaron ran a hand over his hair. “If I wouldn’t known how this would all turn out, I would’ve done everything differently. But it is, what it is now.” Aaron heaved a breath. “I’m not just a construction worker. I also moonlight as an investigative journalist. At least that’s what I would like to be. I came here as a favor to my aunt, but I quickly realized your story was… something that would help my career.” Aaron cleared his throat. “I was glad to help you, but I started it for me. When I got to know you, I felt bad, but I didn’t know how to tell you without seeming like I was taking advantage of you.” Aaron waited for Lane’s reaction.