Diamonds and Ice

The conversation about my interview did not go well. They think they stopped me. They think that by screaming at me, belittling me, and trying to make me feel guilty will stop me, but it won’t. They think that locking me up in the cellar will keep me from accepting the job I know Liam is itching to give me. It won’t.

Still, the night in the cellar is freezing and I’ve been left there without a pillow or a blanket. My own warmth got me through the long, cold darkness. At last morning comes and the orange sun rays pierce through a small and only window that’s just barely above the ground. Despise the terrible discomfort, it’s so peaceful down here, so care free. No multiple breakfast orders to rush making, no piles and piles of laundry and mending to pick up, no chickens and horses to feed that are not even my own. This cellar is my prison, but in a way, I got a taste of freedom I so long for. A freedom from my obligations to my step family.

Above, I hear my step mother’s muffled voice and the creaking floorboards. With each step the dust in the crack stirs. I can’t make up the words, but she doesn’t sound pleased trying to start a fire in the stove herself and the scattered pattern of her footsteps makes me giggle, knowing that she has no clue where anything is at in the kitchen. Oksana and Irina sound just as lost. It’s so funny listening to the world trying to go on without me. This is music to my ears.

Sometime after breakfast that I didn’t have, the cellar door opens for the first time since yesterday.

“Victoria, there’s a letter for you from the Governor’s Mansion. You’ve got the job and they want you to start immediately, but you and I both know that this is impossible,” my step mother emerges down the stair steps.

“You can’t stop me from accepting this. Whether you like it or not, I’m leaving you,” trembling and curled up from the cold, I manage to somehow stand my ground.

“You will write the Governor’s household telling you can’t accept the job,” ignoring what I said, step mother throws paper and pen at me.

“You can’t make me!” I stand up.

“Until you do or until we hear that someone else got the job due to your no-show, you will stay here in the cellar!” she yells back. “Or until you get so sick from all the cold nights, that I won’t have worry about you running away!”

She storms off and shuts the door with such force, I almost think that the house will collapse on top of me.

My step mother is right, I can last in the cellar only for so long and it seems like there’s only one way out of this. I don’t want to do this, but do I have any choice? The situation seems hopeless, but no matter how hard I try I can’t force the pen onto the paper. My hand won’t comply, it only trembles, both from the cold and the horrors that wait for me if I do what she commands of me.

It takes me all day without any food, water, or source of warmth to finally figure out how to word this. I’ll be out of here and these two words I wrote will free me. It will take only two words and I’ll be free, for good.

After letting the ink dry, I put the note in the envelope and slide it under the door for them to find the next morning. This is risky and I’m scared beyond belief, but I’ve been pushed enough and have nothing left to give.

Out of the cleaning closet, I take out all of the rags and tie them together at each end. Then, I find a stool and climb up on it. I take this DIY rope and wrap it around tightly. Only one thing left to do, so I clench my cloth covered hand into a ball of fist and with all my might I let it fly. The glass shatters, so that my dreams of freedom won’t have to. Luckily, they don’t hear the cellar window break and out of this small opening, I crawl out. Against the elements and all odd, my determination is all I’ve got to get me through this winter’s hell.

With only my dress and house slippers on, somehow, I must let Liam know that without question or hesitation, I am taking that darn job. And even if I fail at it, I’m never going back. Screw that. Screw that. Screw that! Those last words I wrote for my step mother keep running in my mind as my stone-cold legs carry me down the night’s lonesome road.

As I fight to keep going, my skin vibrates uncontrollably. The joints in my limbs fuse my bones together. My lungs fill up with shards of ice and a very natural act of breathing turns into dare act straight from the circus. I try to maintain control over my body, but no amount of will and determination can beat mother nature and after a while I feel her invisible army invade my very core. The attack moves in quick. Defeated, I hit the snow.