Yet…
Yet…
They’re here. They. Are. Here.
I run to the door and begin banging hard against it. I don’t care if the guests hear me now. I don’t care if I embarrass myself and Louisa. I need the safety in numbers. I can’t just sit in this room and wait for them to come. I know they are waiting. They are waiting until the perfect time to kidnap me and take me with them. I know it! I feel it!
“Help! I’m stuck in here! Get me out! Help!” I start throwing my shoulder and full body weight at the door but only feel the hard and unforgiving door slapping me back.
No one is coming. The party is loud. The fun is overpowering. No one has time for a scared, crazy woman upstairs.
I sprint to the large walk-in closet and slam the door behind me. I see a lock and make sure I’m in control on this one. I’m locking myself inside. Sitting in the farthest corner, I pull my knees up to my chest and close my eyes. I try not to picture Hallelujah Junction. I try to force the visions of Scarecrow in my bedroom out of my mind. I try not to hear Papa Rich telling me I’ve been a bad, bad girl and must be punished. I can hear the sound of the leather lash against my bare ass. I can feel the sting on memory alone. I’m going to pay for burning our home. He’s going to make sure of it. I know he will.
I notice that near one of Christopher’s shoes is another piece of straw.
Scarecrow was in our closet. Was he hiding in here? For how long? Watching?
I cry out but cover my mouth instantly as I do. I don’t want them to find me. If they walk into the bedroom, I want them to think I’m at the party.
Don’t find me.
Don’t find me.
Don’t find me.
Looking at the locked door, I realize I left the cell phone by the bed. Should I go get it? And then what?
I can’t call Christopher. What can he do? He’s in LA and hours and hours away from me even if he did rush back.
I can’t call the police. What will I say? Tell them I found straw in my bed and closet? They’d all think I finally lost my mind. The poor kidnapped girl finally broke.
Stretching out my hand, I take hold of the straw. I need to feel it between my fingers to make sure this isn’t all in my head. I smell it but only smell straw. It doesn’t reek, but did Scarecrow’s straw ever smell?
This is all wrong. I should have never let Christopher convince me to escape. We were happy. We were. I could have been a good wife there. I would have worked every single day to please him. Chained or not, at least we would have been safe.
But now…
We’ve angered Papa Rich.
I’ve seen over and over what happens when you anger Papa Rich. There may not be the Old Mill anymore with the acid pits, but he’ll find a new way to make us suffer. He won’t let Christopher get away with what he did. Christopher stole his daughter, and there will be a brutal and agonizing price for that. He’ll make me watch as he tortures the man I love. Just like he made me watch as he killed all those trespassers.
So many screams.
So many howls of misery.
And just like all those times before, there is nothing I can do to stop it. There’s not Hallelujah Junction to return to and beg for forgiveness. Everything is gone. Nothing but ash. Nothing but the ghosts of all the dead. Nothing.
“Ember?” I hear called out from the other side of the door.
I freeze and look around for a weapon to use, but there’s nothing but shoes and clothes.
“Ember? Are you in here?”
I recognize the voice. It’s Louisa. She’s here.
“In here,” I cry out, wondering if it’s all in my head. “In here.”
My heart stops in anticipation. I’m frozen in place to see if what I hear is real or just wishful delusion.
The door to the closet tries to open, but the lock I used keeps it closed. I lunge for the door to unlock it but pause before I do. “Louisa? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
Unlocking the door, I open it wide, anxious to be free of my prison. When I do, I see Louisa and three other women standing behind her. Each woman has her mouth open and eyes wide. One of them even gasps when she sees me.
Louisa puts her hand to her heart and takes a stunned step backward. “What in the world are you doing locked in the closet?”
“I…” I can see everyone is afraid of me. They aren’t moving enough for me to exit the closet, so I stay in place. “I was locked in the bedroom. I couldn’t get out no matter how hard I tried. I think Papa Rich did it. I think he’s here. So I was hiding. He’s here.” My body starts to shake as I say the words. “He’s here.”