I stared at him with my hands by my sides, unsure where to look because the darkness of his cloak made it impossible to distinguish anything about him. Sometimes there was a faint glimmer of his jawline, which was hard and covered with a shadow of dark hair. But I never got a look at anything else, like his eyes or nose. “What the fuck are you saying?”
He leaned forward and rubbed his gloved hands together. “We reward the obedient and the hardworking with essentials—warm clothing, food, water… And those who make our lives difficult don’t get such luxuries. You’re young, so you can probably get by with little sustenance, but over a long period of time, it’ll age you…and make you weak. Before you know it, you’ll be a weed. And we kill the weeds.”
Fuck.
He rose to his feet. “Take a warm bath. Otherwise, you’ll get hypothermia. You’re already pale.” He turned to the door and opened it once more. He looked back at me before he walked out. “Your work begins tomorrow. I suggest you rest…because it’s going to be a long day.”
4
Show Your Face
Locked alone in the cabin with nothing to do, I really started to feel my fate.
I was a prisoner.
I checked every cranny of that cabin, and there was no way out. It didn’t have a window, so I couldn’t break through the glass and jump out. Surrounded by four solid walls, with a mattress that sat directly on the floor, there wasn’t a single tool at my disposal. I tried to pull the faucet out of the wall to use that to hit someone upside the head, but it was impossible to accomplish without a wrench.
My biggest fear was my sister’s treatment, but I suspected she was experiencing exactly what I was. Other than being locked up against our will and forced into servitude, there was no immediate danger. They didn’t seem to hurt you unless they were forced to, and they seemed more interested in productivity than holding us down and taking us against our wills.
Most people were consumed with wallowing in self-pity, in venting their frustrations rather than acting on them, but I was a problem-solver, and I tried to think of a way to solve this problem.
The biggest hurdle to my captivity was the weather conditions. Snow was everywhere, there was no village in sight, and I would die from the cold before I could get far on foot…unless I found a village.
But did it snow here all year-round?
We were miles away from the base of the Alps, probably because there were chalets and ski lifts up the mountains there. So, I assumed it only snowed here from December to March. That meant I had three months of this before the weather improved.
Could I make it on foot in the spring?
Without food, water, or a map…probably not.
Were there maps somewhere at the camp? If I could find one, I had a chance.
But would they keep physical maps when they had phones? Did they carry phones? Would they even get reception here? How did they communicate with the outside world?
Whether I escaped in winter or spring, my odds were still slim, without any idea where I was going. Maybe if I were a French native, I would have a better understanding of the geography and have a greater chance of reaching a safe destination.
But I also had no chance without a horse, because they would hunt me down quickly if I were on foot.
When I thought everything through, it was depressing, because I realized I really had no chance of getting away, let alone with my sister. I could escape on my own and then alert the authorities to the location of the camp.
But I’d have to successfully escape first…and survive.
I spent that evening soaking in the tub, feeling the warmth infect my limbs and cure the developing frostbite. I didn’t realize how cold I was until I was surrounded by warmth, until I felt the numbness. It took ten minutes for me to finally feel the temperature of the water, to feel my muscles relax in response.
Later, a knock sounded on my door.
I was in bed, wearing the clothes that had been provided for me, my hair still a little damp because there wasn’t a hair dryer in the room.
The door unlocked, and a gloved hand appeared as the door was opened.
Then a woman set a tray of food on the chair against the wall. Her head stayed down, and she didn’t look at me before she walked out. The man shut the door, locked it, and then they continued on.
I grabbed the tray and ate in bed, realizing how hungry I was once the smell hit my nose. The last time I ate was in that wine bar, when I’d smeared the assorted cheeses on the fresh slices of bread, topped with some dried cranberries and nuts. That’d been…I don’t even know when.