Page 25 of Uncrowned

I drew up my leg feeling my body spasm at the pain that jolted me to awareness. Darkness surrounded me, and I could barely keep my lids open as my eyes rolled back. Sleep came again, sucking me down, only for the pain to steal me from the blurring colors of what had to have been a dream.

Wetness soaked my face, and I knew I was crying. Hadn’t I been crying all night? Through the beating. Through the medication my mother forced down my throat. I could still see and hear her.

“Stop being a baby, Penelope. I’ve had beatings far worse than this. This is nothing. So what if your face has a few bruises. Maybe you have a broken rib or two. I had three fractured ribs and a broken nose when I was heavily pregnant with you. You’ll live and you’ll learn.” She cursed. “What did you do, anyway? Tell me you didn’t call off your wedding with Lord Allford.”

“N-No. He…” I could barely breathe through the sobs. “He forced me—my pants down. He.” More sobs.

“Get it together. Did he rape you?”

“No. Just… he… tasted. Father walked in and John left.”

“Tasted?” My mother’s head lowered to my lap and at my look of mortification, she laughed. “That’s it? You’re lucky. It could have been a lot worse.” She slapped my hand. “Stop crying, Penelope. It’s not a big deal. You’re giving me a headache. Here, take these pills. They’ll help. You’ll sleep like the dead, and you won’t feel a thing.”

Headache. Feel.

My legs scissored again through the constant ache to my stomach and side. Silence registered only for a loud bang to jolt me awake. I lifted my head, rolling to my good side as the room spun around me. I could barely process the vertigo as a scream sent my blood going cold. It died just as fast as it began making me wonder if I had heard it at all. Again, time left me. I wasn’t sure how much. I blinked hard and sat up, crashing into my wall as I tried to steady myself.

I was going to be sick. My stomach churned, and my mouth was bone dry as I listened for something more. Something… off, but I couldn’t focus. Somehow, I knew I had to get up. I pushed from the bed and tried racing to my adjoining bathroom. My shoulder clipped the frame of the door hard, and I tried holding back my hair as I doubled over and heaved. Pressure forced through my throat. The excruciating pain had me holding to my side as the gags didn’t stop.

Vibration had me blinking through the confusion as I gasped for air and wiped my mouth. I flushed the toilet, grabbing my toothbrush. I still wasn’t sure if I was finished being sick. Again, there seemed to be an odd stomping vibrating my feet.

I listened. I tried focusing on sound. Was someone awake? Had that been a scream after all? How long ago had that been?

Nothing was making sense. I had no idea what time it was. I could barely hold to my thoughts at all as I finished and swished my mouth with water. Urgency told me I didn’t have time to do more.

I placed down the glass, holding to the wall as I left the bathroom and headed for my door. A heaviness told me to go back to bed. To forget it all. I could fall asleep again so easily, but I continued, easing the barrier open. Darkness surrounded me, but I could see a glow coming from down the stairs. It drew me forward, even though I feared it was my father who was still awake.

Had my mother been the one to scream? Was he hurting her, too?

Further, I continued, easing down the stairs. I tried my best to be silent. The pain had me hugging myself tighter. Tears slid down my cheeks, and my brain screamed to turn around. Not from the fear, but because the constant agony threatened to make me sick again. It had me pausing to breathe through the stabbing sensations racing like lightning through my insides.

“We can make a deal. You said Lord Allford is dead. You want Penelope, fine. You can have her. Title, no title. I don’t care. Just take her and leave.”

John… was dead?

The fear in father’s weak voice couldn’t be denied. I could detect it, even through my foggy state. Who was he talking to? Who was he going to give me to now? Someone untitled? He’d never.

“Please. You’re making a mistake.”

More steps.

Closer.

I left the stairs, heading down the dark hall toward my father’s study. Just past the light coming from his office, lay a shape. My hand flew to my mouth, and I was sure I was going to be sick again. Instinct managed to hammer through, pleading for me to run. For the life of me, I was going the wrong way. Still, my feet carried me forward—towards the heap.

“Please. Please! Don’t do this. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t⁠—”

A whoosh of air left my head foggy, but all I saw was my mother’s white nightgown covered in blood. I stepped into the light, reaching towards the darkness. Was I still dreaming? Was this a nightmare?

“Pen—” My head spun at my father’s voice. “Run.”

My jaw dropped as a black and white masked man turned in my direction. Papers scattered from my father’s desk as he fell, and although I should have obeyed, all I could see was the blood smeared over his battered, broken face as he lay gasping and fighting to breathe.

Blood was saturating his chest, webbing out over his white button up. I crashed into the wall behind me, not even aware I had taken steps back.

Coughing.

Crimson sprayed from my father’s mouth. His hand flexed, and his fingers almost seemed to be reaching for me. My head shook, and I gagged as my lids heavily blinked.