Page 7 of Promise of Punishment

“I’m sorry,” that sweet voice says. “I’m so very sorry, but I can’t leave you on the ground in all this grass and dirt.”

Grass? Is that what is itching my ears and neck?

“I’m trying to be gentle, but you weigh as much as a bear,” she pants.

“Leave me,” I murmur, my throat dry. I cough. It feels like I’m being kicked in the ribs again. I wince.

“Here, I brought more to drink.” My head is lifted, and cool, sweet, flavored liquid dribbles down my throat, easing the dryness.

“Better?” she asks. My angel.

I make a noise of approval. Even that hurts. All my ribs must be bruised or broken.

She shoves me again.

I let out a long groan.

“I know. I’m sorry. I hate that this is causing you pain, but I’ll hate myself more if I leave you out here, exposed to the weather. It’s supposed to rain.”

The air does feel a bit humid.

“Where am I?” I mumble, unsure if she would be able to understand with the way my words roll into one.

“A garden. In the back of the manor.”

I tense, and pain erupts throughout my body. It’s not safe here. If my father finds me, he’ll finish me off. Maybe even hurt this sweet girl.

Wait. How is she here? Who is she?

I want to ask all of this, but my strength is already gone. Blackness tugs at my mind. I give in.

Wes

“Hey? Big guy? Bear? Time to wake up.” Soft hands caress my hair and cheek.

She’s still here?

“Sorry. I have to keep waking you in case you have a concussion. But don’t worry, I’m going to stay with you.”

I try to open my eyes again. Useless.

She gives me more juice and feeds me pudding that she explains has crushed-up pain medication.

She moves me again, huffing and puffing with great effort.

I don’t want her to hurt herself because of me.

“Stop,” I murmur.

She halts at once. “What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding closer to my level.

“You’ll… hurt… yourself. Leave me.”

“No can do. Sorry. I can’t stop you from catching pneumonia if I leave you out in the open. I mean, maybe I could, but I’d rather not have to try when there’s a perfectly good shed nearby.”

Shed. I must be in the abandoned garden. My grandmother’s favorite. My mum hated her with such passion that she had it locked up and left to rot. Much like my father did to me.

I could die out here, and no one would know. My body would never be found. My remains would become one of many things lost in this garden. But someone could come to make sure I’m dead.