Page 26 of Uncrowned

It was the footsteps that made me fight to push the sickness away. The masked man was coming for me, heading right in my direction. I threw my arms to the side to turn, only to accidentally connect with my mother’s hand. It wasn’t as warm as it should have been. My mind registered that as I tried pushing to my feet.

I managed to make it just past my mother’s body before arms gently swept me up. The hold that locked around me could have been a cage for the power the masked man emanated. Even hurt, even as careful as he was trying to be, I fought with everything I had—and I failed. A cloth was molded against my mouth and nose, and I could feel myself falling—fading.

Back into the dark.

Back into the oblivion of a nothingness I knew all too well.

Maybe this time, I wouldn’t wake up.

Warm wetness. Pressure. Pain.

My body jolted as a wet cloth rubbed over the tenderness of my cheek. The reason for the sensation was so alien that defensiveness had me trying to draw back. My shoulders drew in, and my face went to turn into the soft surface below me. A sound broke free from my lips at the pain that came with the movements. Even as it did, I knew something was wrong. Something more than the beating I’d gotten from my father.

Confusing memories flashed. Screams echoed. I managed to blink as I flattened my hand on the comforter below me.

Black. Light.

I blinked, trying to process what I was looking at. My head lifted a few inches, and still I stared down, taking in the dark color.

Black.

That wasn’t right.

Something spicy, almost exotic took over my senses, and I lifted my head, meeting a pair of blacked out eyes not a foot away. My scream was automatic. My nails tore into the blanket as I scrambled higher on the bed, away from the stranger in the black and white skeleton mask.

“W-Who are you?” Anxiously, I scanned the empty, dim room. A bed. A stand-up shower. A toilet. A table. Stairs. “Where am I? Where⁠—”

I swayed as images assaulted me. My mother on the floor, covered in blood. My father, beaten, stabbed. Yes… he’d been tortured. Half of his face had been dark purple. There had been lacerations over the large knots littering his face. And blood. Yes… There had been so much blood. It was on the desk. On the floor.

My head lowered and a sob tore from me as I took in the nightgown I was dressed in. White. It was still the same one I’d been in, and something in that gave me comfort as I pushed harder into the metal headboard.

“D-Don’t hurt me. Please. I… You—You killed them.”

The masked man sat straighter but stayed silent. At the pain, I lifted my hand to my swollen cheek, closing my lids. At the bed shifting, my free hand shot up to face him. His head cocked to the side, but he didn’t move.

“What do you want from me? Why am I here?”

Nothing.

Tears raced down my face.

“Please. I can’t—I hurt too badly to keep asking. What do you want from me?” At the silence that stretched out, anger grew. “What do you want from me!”

“… You.”

The word shot through me like a bullet. I flew from the bed, ignoring the pain as I raced for the stairs. The man stood, but he didn’t move as I rushed to the door, grabbing the knob to twist open. When it didn’t budge, I threw my shoulder into the metal surface with everything I had. Agony sent me falling to my knees, but I didn’t let go of the knob. I kept trying to twist. To push the door open with my weight.

“Penelope.”

Cries left me. Repeatedly, I used my shoulder to ram into the door.

“Let me go, please. I want out. I want to leave.”

Footsteps grew closer, but the man stayed rooted to the bottom of the stairs.

“You cannot leave. Come back to bed.”

“No.”