Waiting For Spring

I was carried from the dungeons before I was suddenly plunged into relative darkness again as the guard took me down a narrow passageway. One that was so dark and small that it had to be inside the walls of the castle. The air was stale, and the stone walls assaulted my dirt covered skin with a chill that tried to burrow beneath.

The passageway was silent except for the footsteps of the three guards who had been tasked with escorting me. I had already tried and failed to get them to set me on my own feet. They just eyed me wearily, and I felt the arms around me tighten.

We travelled down the passage until we came to a concealed door. As I was carried out, my nose was assaulted with the delicious scent of food, sending my barren stomach into a frenzy.

My nose twitched and my mouth watered in anticipation. Women were scurrying everywhere around the kitchen. Each table sagging under the weight of food placed on them and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life devouring it. Not even the boys could finish this off in one sitting.

The fires were burning, pots bubbling with deliciousness and I almost felt faint. I wanted to beg that the guards stopped. I wanted to demand they allow me to stop and eat something, anything.

I was looking around the kitchens in unabashed awe when my eyes landed on the guard I remembered the captain referring to as Mantai. His brown, almost black eyes were watching me with a look of disdain and disgust. A look I was all too familiar with, but the shame that washed over me never ceased to find me. I felt as if I were a smudge on one of his perfectly polished boots and I felt small, worthless.

When he caught me looking, he quickly schooled his face into an emotionless mask as my own eyes fell to the stone floor that was passing quickly beneath my captor’s feet.

Before I knew it, the kitchen was behind us, and the other, more stoic guard, was opening another concealed door beside one of the fires in the kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice the looks many of the women were shooting us, but none of them dared to question the guards or take a too lengthy look. A plump woman was marching around the kitchen ensuring no one was slackening off.

She was frightening in her rule. I had already seen her yell at three different women and toss another’s hard work aside when it didn’t meet her standards.

The next passage was nothing but a never-ending climb of very steep wooden stairs, each one creaking with the weight of the men carrying me up.

When the passage finally started to level out it had been long minutes, the silence ringing in my ears. Until finally, the wordless guard opened another hidden door, and we were all hurrying down a beautiful hallway decorated in deep blues and bathed in the afternoon light, almost orange in its glow. Flowers adorned every surface, with heavy navy blue curtains decorating the expansive windows.

Then, suddenly, we stopped, and I twisted to see what was happening. I caught a glimpse of white double doors decorated with a vine pattern before the guard shifted me on his shoulder so I couldn’t see anymore.

I heard the click of the door as it opened and then I was being carried inside and set down roughly on a soft red rug laid across the wooden floors. As soon as I was out of the guard’s arms, the guards proceeded to exit the room without a word, the door slamming shut behind them. Followed by the distinct sound of a lock sliding into place.

The sound heavy in my ears, reminding me that attempting to escape was hopeless, especially considering how many stairs we had taken to get here. I must have been on the third floor of this monstrous castle.

Gingerly, I got to my feet and turned to take in the room they had placed me in to find myself surrounded by opulence and elegance I could have never dreamed existed. The room was filled with overstuffed red and gold armchairs, bookshelves lining the walls and like the tables in the hallway, every surface was covered with fragrant flowers.

I felt out of place in my shabby clothes and dirty skin. I was almost afraid to breathe lest I somehow sully the beauty of the room. I couldn’t help but wonder why I had been condemned to this room and none of my thoughts were comforting.

I couldn’t help but think about what they might do to me if they were willing to keep me, a criminal, locked up in such extravagance.

Still trying to take in the room, I almost missed the loud commotion coming from outside the room. My head immediately snapped to the doors in alarm, frightened by what might be happening on the other side. When the voices became louder, my mind finally started to register the danger, and I forced my fear laden legs to start backing away from the door.

I backed up until my back made contact with a hard object, digging painfully into my lower back where my scar was.

I immediately realised it was a door handle and I twisted it eagerly before ducking inside the next room. Any distance I could put between myself and the scene outside the rooms was extra time I had to figure out a plan.

I closed the door as quietly as possible only to hear the door in the other room slam open. The voices were louder than before, and my heart seemed to jump and beat as if trying to be louder than them all.

Feeling frantic, I turned to assess the room I now found myself in, only to realise it was a bedroom, probably the last place I wanted to find myself.

The large bed in the centre of the room took up most of the space. There was a willowy canopy hanging over the rich bed linens, and I felt my stomach turn. What were they going to do with me and why were they so angry? I startled when I heard something crash in the other room and mentally scolded myself for getting so distracted. I needed to find an escape or at the very least a place to hide.

I listened as heavy footsteps tread against the hardwood floors, and I knew I had mere seconds before they came bursting in looking for me.

My eyes darted to the bed again, and I did the only thing which came to mind. I dived under the wooden bed frame and huddled against the wall where the bed head was, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Not even a second later the door to the room was thrown open, so harshly it almost shook the walls of the room. I pulled my knees tighter to my chest as I watched feet march angrily into the room, holding my breath as if that would make me invisible.

“Troy, you know she should have been brought straight to me, whether you were certain or not,” a man bellowed, my blood running cold at the authority I heard in it. There were very few people who could have superiority over a Captain of the guard. I had already seen his boots enter the room and I knew it wasn’t his voice speaking.

This new man’s voice was deep and menacing, holding an authority that demanded respect and fear.

“Of course your majesty,” I heard the Captain’s voice reply, and I was surprised to find no fear hiding in his tone while my entire body trembled with it.

“Now we can’t find her,” the man shouted in frustration, and I let out a shaky breath before filling my lungs with air again.

“Unless she has jumped from the window Majesty, I’m sure she’ll be somewhere within these rooms.” The Captain’s voice almost mocked and his statement was met with silence. I wondered how he could be so candid with this man. Why was he not afraid?

I watched anxiously as both men moved about the room, searching. I glanced over at the open door of the room and noticed there were two more sets of boots there, and I could only assume the guards tasked with keeping me trapped inside the room were standing to ensure there was no chance of my escape. I was trapped, and it was only a matter of time before they found me. This knowledge caused my lungs to constrict, my breathing erratic and uncontrollable.

I stopped breathing altogether when I saw the Captain’s boots come to a stop beside the bed. My eyes were locked on them, begging for him to walk away, praying he was too ignorant to look beneath the bed.

I tried to keep my breaths short and silent as long minutes passed with no movement. What were they doing?

Finally, he took a step back from the bed, and I released a long breath in relief. Then my heart stopped completely.

Suddenly, he returned to the bedside, and I realised I must have been too loud. He must have heard me. All at once, I was met with the bright blue eyes of a triumphant Captain.

I let out a startled yelp at his sudden appearance. His hand reached out for me, but I launched my foot at him, catching his eye before I scrambled out from the bed heading for the door, not caring how many guards stood in my way. The Captain cried out in shock and pain as I raced across the floor, my bare feet slapping against the wooden floors.

I was mid-step when I slammed into another body, hitting a hard chest before tumbling back to the floor. At least I would have if two strong arms hadn’t shot out and saved me the trouble. My breathing was ragged, my heart unmanageable as my head began to spin and I couldn’t tell whether it was from lack of food or lack of air.

I stared wide eyed at the chest, taking in the extensive amount of medals across his breast and the rich fabrics of his clothes. I didn’t dare look higher, terrified of who I might find. Instead, I let my eyes travel down his chest until they rested on where his calloused hands gripped my filthy arms.

“I assume this is her,” the man holding me asked as I heard footsteps, I could only assume were the captain’s as he moved towards us.

“Yes,” he confirmed, coming to a stop beside the man.

“What makes her different from the others?” He demanded, his hands tightening around my arms sending a pulse of fear through my limbs before it settled heavily in my chest.

Suddenly, one of his hands released me only to grip my chin tightly and force my eyes up to his. I was shocked but the sudden movement, but I forgot almost everything when my gaze fell into his. I was overwhelmed with a demanding feeling that maybe I had seen this man before. His brown eyes or his matching brown hair or maybe it was something about the sharp lines of his jaw and nose.

Fear seemed to flee my body as I took him all in until I realised he was looking at me in disbelief. Uncomfortable with his attention I tried to duck out of his hold, but he held firm, his calculating eyes watching closely.

“It’s remarkable,” the Captain said from beside him, but his eyes never left mine, not once. “The resemblance?”

“Impossible,” he breathed, his face slowly turning into a frown as if he didn’t quite believe what he saw.

“That’s what I thought, but she has the scar,” my eyes darted to the Captain’s in confusion and anger remembering how he had traced his fingers along the jagged scar on my lower back. Why was it so important?

The man holding my chin hummed lightly, and when I turned back to him, he was still watching me with doubtful eyes.

“How do I know this isn’t some trick? She’s meant to be dead.”

“No one ever confirmed it; you know that,” the Captain reasoned.

“It’s been eleven years,” he answered weakly, his hand becoming more gentle, resting against my cheek, his thumb running along my cheekbone as his doubt seemed to slip away. “I can’t believe she has finally been returned to me.”

“I-I...” I wanted to ask what they were talking about but I was afraid to speak, afraid to move, afraid of what he might do next.

“Arlarose, where have you been all this time?” He asked, his forehead wrinkling. I couldn’t help but frown wondering who he thought I might be and how I had landed myself in this situation.

“She claims her name is Rosie,” the Captain explained.

“My name is Rosie,” I frowned.

“She doesn’t know her family name,” he continued to explain as if I had never spoken and the man holding me didn’t stop looking at me as if he couldn’t get enough.

“You found her where?”

“I found her in the dungeons,” he explained warily. Shifting from one foot to the other and then back again.

“What?” The man demanded, his eyes flashing with anger before he turned on the Captain.

“She was arrested in the town square, from what I can tell she must have been living on the streets all these years. A boy was brought in with her. She was rather insistent that she not leave his side.” I felt my anger throb in my veins at how callously they were discussing not only myself but Herrin. Who was probably down in those wretched dungeons terrified out of his little mind.

“Is this true?” Suddenly, his attention was on me again, and I didn’t have the chance to mask my rage. “have you been living on the streets?”

“Yes,” I ground out, trying to pry his hand from my face.

“How has no one recognised her before?” He demanded, returning his attention to the man at his side. The man simply gave him a look of disbelief before both of their eyes returned to me. I felt uncomfortable under their gazes, shifting awkwardly in his hold before I finally grew tired of waiting for him to say something.

“What are you going to do with me?” I asked, trying to hide the shake in my voice. I clenched my hands tightly in front of me to hide their tremor, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“We have many things to discuss Arlarose,” he responded vaguely, his voice unreadable.

“Rosie.”

“I have been searching for you for years and if you are who you claim to be everything is about to change.” He continued.

“Rosie. That is who I claim to be.”

“I gave up hope of ever finding you, convinced all the rumours were true and you had died that night and if not that night then one of the many nights after. You were only five years old. It seemed impossible that you might survive on your own. How did you come to be in Citra Colonia?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stuttered, the intensity of his gaze sending panic through my veins. He watched me closely for long moments before suddenly his gaze drifted to the captain again. I noticed there was a cut just beneath his swelling eye and I felt triumph surge through me, knowing I had hurt him in some small way.

“Leave us,” he ordered, and ice shot through my veins, washing all triumph from my body. The bed suddenly felt like an overwhelming presence in the room, filling all the spaces in my mind.

“James,” the captain warned, and my eyes flashed to his only to find discomfort and confusion staring back at me.

“Captain Hennison,” the man holding me started calmly. “I am your sovereign, and I am in charge of not only my own actions but the actions of every person in this castle, in this region, in this kingdom, and I am ordering you to leave us.” I watched the two, desperately wishing the captain wouldn’t leave us. I didn’t even want to imagine what this man, this king, would do to me if he got me alone.

“Whatever you wish, your majesty,” the captain bowed, his scowl barely masked by his obedient smile.

Silently, I watched as he turned on his heel and walked stiffly to the door of the bedchamber, my heart stuttering as I heard the sound of the door click closed.

Thankfully, the King released me and I took several hurried and clumsy steps away from him. I wanted to put more distance between us, but I could feel his eyes on me, as if daring me to take another step, daring me to put any more space between us.

I kept my eyes trained on the floor as silence stifled any air in the room, making it almost impossible for me to breathe.

I stood anxiously, tugging at the torn sleeves of my shirt unable to stop my mind from returning to what he had said mere moments before. Why had he been looking for me or whoever he thought I was? I was nothing but a street peasant, a forgotten child. No one had been looking for me, no one wanted me, and if they did, they were long dead and forgotten.

When his voice finally broke the silence my body tensed in anticipation, dread settling heavily in my empty stomach.

“Arlarose?” His voice was questioning, as if he was uncertain now of everything he had said before, maybe testing to see if the name he called me was the one that belonged.

My eyes darted to him in confusion and seeing his uniform again I registered, not for the first time who’s presence I was in. Instantly, I dropped to the floor, my dirty knees smudging the pristine hardwood floors as they slammed against them. I kept my head bowed, and my eyes locked on my clenched hands in my lap.

I scolded myself angrily for not doing it sooner, wondering if he would punish me for my insolent behaviour. I had heard he was a merciless ruler. A man without emotion, without feeling and here I was alone in a room with him.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” I pleaded, my voice shaking as I tried to raise it above a whisper. “I forgot my place.”

I watched in horror as his feet encroached on my vision until they rested at the tips of my knees. My eyes widened with fear, the hairs on the back of my neck raising uncomfortably.

“Please stand Arlarose,” his gentle voice confused me causing me to raise my eyes enough to reach his broad chest. ‘I have something important to discuss with you.’

“I-I think you have the wrong person,” I started, afraid that if I let this go any further, he would blame me for not alerting him to his mistake. I was already a prisoner in his cells what would he do if I didn’t deny his false claims?

“I don’t think I do,” and my eyes rose the rest of the way to meet his, only to find a smile on his face causing my breath to catch. “Not this time.”

“I’m not who you think I am. I’m not lost, so how can you ever say that I have been found?”

“I believe you are more lost than you know,” he said gently, his eyes drifting as if he were lost in a troubling thought.

“My name is Rosie, not...Arlarose, whoever that may be,” I admitted the name sounded familiar, and I could tell it meant something to him but I wasn’t who he believed no matter how certain his eyes were.

“Do you know who Arlarose is?” He asked curiously, his eyes regarding me closely. “Who she is to me? Who she is to my people and Paca Territorus?” I shook my head dumbly at his questions.

“She’s a princess.”

“You think I’m a princess?” I blurted, my eyes wide in shock and fear.

“Not just any princess,” he smiled, an expression he seemed to be having trouble wiping from his face whenever his eyes rested on mine. “The lost princess, the one who was betrothed to me before her birth when I was but five years old.”

“Betrothed?”

“She was the youngest child of Trenton and Aisling Maclin, King and Queen of Paca Territorus. Many believe her to be long dead, but there were those few who believed in a miracle. They believed that one day the princess would return to end the war between our two nations.”

“Maybe she is dead,” I offered, trying to keep my head clear but he shook his head before he continued.

“When you first looked up at me I thought I had slipped into a dream. I believed I had finally lost my mind. After years of searching every corner of my lands for you, fruitlessly hoping that maybe you had made your way here after your disappearance you were finally in my arms, as if by magic.”

“There is no such thing as magic or miracles. I’m sorry your majesty, but I am not the girl you think I am. I am Rosie, not even worth enough to warrant a last name. I am no princess, and I am certainly not Arlarose.”

“But you are,” he implored. “You look exactly like her, your eyes, your hair, even the way you speak. I don’t know how after all these years you seem to have remained the same, but I refuse to lose you again.”

“Stop this,” I begged, risking another step away from him causing his eyes to narrow on me.

“I can’t stop Arlarose. You are the answer to everything I have been searching for, all these years. You are the end. You are everything this country and your own have been searching for, don’t deny this.”

“How can I not deny the man who isn’t talking any sense?” I demanded, forgetting who I was talking to, if only for a moment.

“I can prove it to you Arlarose. That you are exactly who I claim you to be.”

“How?”

“The scar on your back that wraps around your left hip.”

“How do you know about that?” I demanded, my hand instinctively resting against the jagged line on my hip as if I could hide it from him.

“I put it there Arlarose,” he said gently as I desperately tried to catch a breath.

“No,” I breathed. “You’re lying; I got it in the fire. Simon told me when he pulled me from the wreckage that the scar came from a falling piece of wood.”

“Who’s Simon?” He demanded, but I was too far over the edge, the room starting to spin dangerously.

“I can’t be...This is insanity-”

“Who is Simon?” He repeated, his voice laced with possession and my eyes darted to his in alarm.

“Who?” I frowned.

“Simon, who is he to you?”

“My dearest friend, he’s been with me since I can remember. He’s the one who saved me from the fire. The one who looked after me all these years.”

“Show me the scar, Arlarose,” he repeated my name again as if he was trying to catch up on missed years.

“No.” I jumped back from his approaching figure. “I don’t even know you.” I continued to back away from him, confusion and anger filling his striking face.

“I am your king Arlarose. You must obey me. Now, I will not ask again; I must see the scar. If you refuse a second time, I will place you right back where Troy found you.′ His temper flared, pulsing around the room as if it were its own physical presence. I could almost feel it brush against my skin.

Numbly, I shook my head backing away until I was pressed firmly against a wall. Without my realising, my body had begun to tremble again, terrified by what he might do next. He was the king, and I was nothing but a girl from the streets, no one would come to my rescue. No matter how loud I screamed. He could do anything to me, and no one would miss the girl without a last name.

“Stop being childish. I want to be certain of your identity. I will prove to you it is the same scar I gave you when you were but five years old.” His voice grew in intensity with each word as he stalked across the room with alarming speed until there were barely inches between us, my heart slamming dangerously against its prison.

“Y-you are mistaken,” I tried to explain again. “I’ve never even been to Paca Territorus.”

“No, you are mistaken. You are their lost princess and my future bride.′

“You are wrong,” I shot back, feeling anger bubble in my veins with his arrogance.

“You can’t speak to me this way,” he scolded in almost disbelief of my actions. “How can you not know who you are?”

“I don’t remember anything before that night,” I answered, frowning deeply and trying to see the past but instead only finding a wall of flames.

“You don’t remember me?” He asked, and I felt my eyes return to his, puzzled by the wounded tone of his voice.

“I have never seen you before in my life.”

“That’s not possible,” he muttered, shaking his head as if that would change my mind. “You are the princess.”

“I am not a princess,” I answered softly, trying to offer him a weak smile. “You have the wrong girl. I don’t attend balls or feasts. I wait by the kitchen doors for the leftovers they don’t even deem worthy of the pigs.”

“But you are,” he implored, taking both of my hands roughly in his calloused ones and gripping them tightly. “You are her, I know it. You are too much like her to be anyone else.” His eyes were wide with desperation, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t who he wanted me to be.

“I’m just Rosie, no one of worth. No family, no home, no one notices me.”

“But you aren’t alone,” he replied desperately. ’You have no idea how important you are to so many people, especially me.” He wouldn’t think that when he realised who I was or more importantly who I wasn’t.

“I’m sorry your majesty, but you are mistaken.”

“No princess Arlarose, it is I who is sorry but you who is mistaken. We are not strangers, and once I prove myself with your scar, you never will be again.” He moved closer again, the heat from his body seeping through the layer of grime on my skin and clouding my mind. I was so dazed that when he released one of my hands to grip my waist and twisted me so he could see it better the scream of terror became lodged in my throat.

He lifted the bottom of my torn shirt just enough to make my scar visible. The one I had fought to keep hidden over the years. It wasn’t the first time it had caused me trouble. I just never understood why it elicited such strong reactions.

“I knew it,” he smiled, releasing me triumphantly. Instantly, I wrapped my arms around myself feeling sick and violated. “I knew instantly when you looked at me with those green eyes. You had to be her. Even how you spoke to me, it was as if I had fallen back in time.” I sustained my reproachful stare as he continued his triumphant celebrations, pressing myself further into the unforgiving stone wall.

“Finally, this war can end. Finally, Citra and Paca can find peace,′ he announced. “I will inform your brothers immediately, and we will review the terms of the agreement.”

“Brothers?” I frowned, interrupting his monologue. A spark woke in my chest, one I thought had long since died out. A spark of hope, that maybe there was someone out there who wanted me, who maybe even loved me.

Yet, I knew, with that knowledge I would have to agree to be someone I wasn’t. Agree to be the girl this King had lost all those years ago.

“Of course, King Marcus and Prince David will have to be informed that we have finally found you, after all these years. After all, you were the only piece left in the agreement to be settled. You were what was promised to me all those years ago when our fathers made this deal.” He explained, without ceremony, while inside my heart was dancing joyously for a family I could have lost years ago if I was to believe what this man was telling me.

“Can I see them, can I go to them?” I asked hopefully, pushing off the wall.

“Of course, we will visit them together,” he answered simply. “Once we are married, we are expected to visit the surrounding kingdoms.” Suddenly, it felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath me as a heavy pressure weighed down on me.

“Marriage,” I gasped, remembering what he had said about the lost princess, how she was betrothed to him.

“Yes, princess, you will be married to me within the next few months to seal the agreement made by our fathers to unite the houses of Pentalamore and Maclin.”

“No,” I started, feeling my world start to disappear, watching the light of freedom dim and flicker as his shadow blocked it from view.

“Princess,” he warned, his fists tightening at his sides.

“I can’t marry you. This is too much. You can’t tell me I’m not who I’ve always thought to be and then tell me that this other girl is promised to you. It’s just too much. I can’t-.′

“You will uphold the promise made by your family. You were promised to me,” his voice dropping and becoming deep and vibrating off the stone walls of the room until it was all I could hear.

“How can you demand that I fulfil that promise when I wasn’t even alive when it was made? Yesterday you believed this girl to be dead, yet today you are convinced she has come back from the grave and I am her.” I shouted in exasperation, my fear and desperation getting the better of me.

“No matter the circumstances of your discovery you were still promised to me. A deal agreed upon by both our families and since you have been proven alive, then it must be upheld. Within the next several months you will be my wife and queen whether this is what you wish for or not. You will cease to be Arlarose Mary Maclin, Princess of Paca Territorus and instead you will become Arlarose Mary Pentalamore, Queen of Citra Colonia. With that, the war will end between our two nations, port rights will be granted to Citra, and the Shinai Mountains will become my territory. You will fulfil your duties as my queen as promised.” He snarled, lowering his face until it was mere millimetres from my own.

“No,” I breathed in disbelief.

“You will uphold your duty princess both to your own people in Paca and the people of Citra Colonia by becoming my queen. You will ensure this monarchy’s future,” he snarled, something almost animalistic flashing behind his eyes.

“I can’t; this is nonsensical. I’m not who you think I am. I have no future, how could I possibly secure an entire nation’s?”

“Heirs,” he shot back, and suddenly my blood ran cold.

“What?”

“Heirs princess, that is your duty,” he yelled, pressing against me, so I was trapped against the wall. The biting stone digging into my skin through the thin layer of material.

“No. I don’t want this. I don’t want you,” I answered breathlessly not even thinking of the words as they spilt from my mouth. He loomed over me, dark and brooding, his jaw working angrily as he regarded me with contempt. All traces of tenderness and compassion from before had disappeared, leaving nothing but a cold, heartless, merciless king.

“Princess-.”

“I am not a princess. I am Rosie. A street peasant who has no business marrying a king.” I shouted across his words, but it didn’t stop him from continuing.

“Princess,” he emphasised. “Your opinion is of no consequence, and despite your outburst, that scar and those eyes are proof enough that you are the lost princess and the end to this war. The people will rejoice to see their princess returned and safe.” He finished cooly.

“I-I’ll deny everything,” I answered shakily. “The people will not rejoice a reluctant princess or an unwilling queen.”

“Why do you rebel against the idea of being princess so strongly?” He demanded hotly. “I would think a girl in your situation would revel in the chance to live a full life of elegance and safety.”

“I’m not ashamed of who I am,” I shot back defiantly. “At least in my life, I can say I am free to be who I choose. I don’t want to be trapped inside your world that is filled with nothing but illusions. Your accusations are unfathomable.”

“You will understand the truth in time. You are of royal blood, and you will be my wife. I am sorry you feel so strongly about my life, but you have been duty bound since birth, to me.” Then he finally took a step away from me before he turned and headed for the door.

“Why are you so insistent on marrying a stranger? You could just as easily send me back to where I came from and marry any girl of your choosing,” I reasoned, trying to talk some sense into him and for a moment he paused his hand poised over the handle of the door.

“You are my choice Arlarose,” he answered almost reverently. “You have always been my choice.”

I frowned at his words as my heart seemed to miss a beat. A strange feeling washed over me that I didn’t seem capable of explaining. However, before I had the chance to process his words he slipped from the room, leaving silence and confusion in his wake.

I listened in despair as I heard his footsteps receded and the door in the next room clicked softly closed behind him. I heard the audible sound of a lock sliding into place, and suddenly my body felt too heavy to even hold itself upright. Never in my darkest nightmares did I see this as being my future. I desperately wanted to escape, afraid of what might happen if I were to remain here, with him. I didn’t want this to be the rest of my life, locked inside a room with guards to stop me from escaping because I knew he would never trust me to be on my own, not when the only thoughts running through my head were plans of escape.

Looking around the room, all I could see was his world, his rules, his prison. One he would carefully design to keep me beneath his thumb.

Weariness settled over me as I sat curled against the cold wall and I felt my body begin to dance on the edge of sleep, and I begged for the blessed release. In the darkness of my dreams, I could escape him and this life he had mapped out for me. If only for a brief moment.