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Tears burn my eyes.
What’s going to happen to me? Am I just going to sit here until I freeze to death? Will they eventually just forget me? My hands brush over my wide hips. I can go a while without food, but I barely went two days without water before I was ready to lick the walls. How long before the bucket of piss looks good enough to drink?
My stomach cramps, and I gag a little at the thought.
Oh, God! I’m going to end up as a mysterious disappearance on some forensic TV show. Or aweird smell in the basement.
And that, right there, is my snapping point.
I can’t lose hope. I refuse to die like this! If this is truly the end, then I’m going to go out fighting!
But how? I don’t have any weapons. Except… don’t I?
I feel my way across the room to where I put the piss bucket. It’s about halfway full, and I carefully carry it across the small room over by the door.
I may not have a knife or a gun… but I have something even better!
As a plan comes to me, I feel around the ground for one of the empty plastic water bottles and I try not to vomit at what I’m about to do. As carefully as I can in the surrounding darkness, trying not to touch more of the cold urine than I absolutely must, I fill the water bottle. Then… I wait.
Hours pass, but finally I hear it; the scraping sound that comes just before the door opens and my jailor throws me some meager scraps. This time, I’m ready for him.I’ve tried rushing the door in the past, but he only opens it wide enough to shove the bag through and then slams the door shut. The first time I tried, I nearly lost a finger.
Squinting against the brightness I know is coming, I hold the bottle out in front of me. As soon as the door cracks open, I squeeze! Sending a spray of urine directly into the guard’s face. His strangled scream is music to my ears and the moment he recoils, I lunge forward wrenching the door wide open. Using my shoulder, I knock him off balance while he’s blinded and sputtering.I’m free!
Except I don’t know where I am.
Blinking through sensitive eyes I allow myself a moment to adjust to the lights while my muscles jump, expecting an attack at any moment. Do I go left or right? The guard roars and I glance back to see him angrily wiping at his eyes as he staggers back to his feet. I choose left.
Please don’t be a dead end. Please, please don’t be a dead end…
The end of the hallway turns sharply to the right and then… thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus!Stairs!
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, and the guard close on my heels, I’m impossibly fast as I practically fly up the stairs. When I reach the top my hands wrap around the edge of the door, flinging it behind me and slamming it shut. I flip the lock on the knob just as something heavy slams against it from the other side, followed by an animal cry and what sounds like claws raking at the wood.
Along the jam, there is a thick metal bar and I quickly slam that across the door, then snap the attached padlock shut.
Oh shit, I did it!
My legs are shaking as I stagger backward. My eyes widen as the wood bows from the force of the monster on the other side. That bar might hold, but the wood won’t for long. Spinning on my heel, I take in the plain square room I find myself in. There is a ratty couch under a large picture window and a scuffed table next to a kitchenet, but nothing else, other than scattered trash.I sprint across the room and throw open the door to find… trees. And fresh air.
Sucking in greedy lungful after lungful of crisp, cold air before I sprint into the mist shrouded forest. Above me the sky is overcast with the threat of snow hanging heavy in the air. Another loud crack comes from behind me, and I pick up the pace, not daring to turn around to see if the monster has broken loose.
There is no path or road to be seen, so I weave through the trees and brush. As I make my way deeper into the forest, my only thought is to put as much distance between me and the monster I’m leaving behind.
Four
JARIK
We take Jacob’s truck, leaving the bustling city behind to head up into the mountains.
“I’ve heard they use the old cabin as a jail of sorts, for weaker factions and humans who see things they shouldn’t.” Jacob tells me as he drives at breakneck speed through forgotten or rarely used logging roads.
“They are bigger fools than I thought, if they think that taking Mercy from me will somehow make me weaker.” I grumble.
Jacob darts a look over at me before focusing back on the road. “She’s your fated?”
“She’s mine.” I state. I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, but I can’t seem to admit to the truth everyone already knows.
Because, I argue with myself,when was the last time one of my kind found the one mate created just for them?Not since my parents, and what a disaster that ended up being. Being fated doesn’t automatically equal love. Or monogamy. My father proved that.
