Chapter 17RoseVoxRose

Chapter 17

Rose

The wedding day

“Get up, Rose, come on! We have so much to do!” my mother shouts, storming into my room, bouncing on her feet like a kid on Christmas day.

Today is the day and I still haven’t heard from Vox.

I sit on my bed, my eyes still puffy from crying myself to sleep, like every morning since the last night I've spent at Vox's. My mother must have gotten used to it because she doesn’t even make a remark.

As I watch her grab my hairbrush on the desk and already start to work on my hair, I take a glimpse at the top drawer of my dresser. I've hidden the four dollars I took from my mother's wallet in my underwear. I’m still amazed that she hasn't figured that out yet.

In the Faithful Lambs, the bride is only allowed to wear knickers under the dress, so I'll have to hide the dollars in the elastic band. They are my ticket out of this life. All I have to do now is get ready and put a fake smile on my face so no one will suspect my escape after the ceremony. I must act like a loyal and submissive bride, swooning over her fiancé.

Ew .

I sigh and sign at my mother.

“Let me eat my breakfast first, then I’ll come back upstairs to get ready.” I need to eat. I have no idea when my next meal will be.

“Okay, right, but quick, we have to do your hair after,” she answers back, her voice full of a mixture of anxiety and excitement. “Hurry up, Rose, we need you to be perfect today.”

Perfect.

For them, I will.

I will look like the perfect obedient bride they expect me to be. But inside, I will roar like a lion, ready to fight anyone on my way to freedom.

Wild like my man taught me.

She leaves the room, finally letting me get up. I turn toward the door, making sure she’s far enough to not see me, and grab Vox's phone under my pillowcase.

Still no text.

I bite my lower lip.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry .

Ignoring my broken heart, I swallow and close my eyes. I need to focus. Vox must have a good reason to stay silent, he must. No matter what, I will save myself. I will take the reins of my life today. Unlocking the screen, I open our conversation and start texting him.

One last time before everything changes.

I wish I could have written a handwritten letter to him, but this is all I have. My eyes get watery from the nickname he's put in my profile. There's so many things I want to say but I don't know where to start.

“Rose, hurry up!” my mom yells from the kitchen.

Angel : I’m getting married today, but I’m still hoping to hear your bike in the driveway. You showed me what being alive felt like and for this I’m forever grateful. I’m sorry we ran out of time. I’m sorry our worlds couldn't exist together. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you these words out loud.

I'll always be yours, no matter what.

Your Angel.

-

“Remember, wide smiles and look down at your feet, even when you walk toward him,” my mother keeps telling me since I got into the car, the large white dress drowning me under all the fabric. I feel naked without my bra on, but this is tradition. The rough edges of the dollar bills are the only thing reminding me that this will be done in a few hours. I slid them under my dress quickly when my mother went out of the room to get her purse.

“Also, don’t sign to him like a strange girl, Rose, he doesn’t care about that. Just nod at everything he says, It’ll be easier.” She's wearing the same black long dress as always, her hair braided like any other day. Just like my father in his black suits and his black top hat.

The only change is the large smug grins on their faces. They think they're getting connected with royalty.

So foolish of them.

I know it's wrong but I'm not even sorry for them. My father hid the murders of six girls and my mother is enthusiastically pushing me in the arms of a man who plans on raping me at the end of the day.

I love them but I’m done with this.

“Rose,” my father says, taking his usual threatening tone with me, like each time he talks to me. I could honestly count them on my fingers since last month.

“Don't mess this up,” he says. I can almost feel his hand on my neck at the memories of his bathtub punishment each time he was disappointed in me.

I look at him in the rearview, nodding slowly like the good girl that I am.

If only he knew.

-

This is it.

The walk. The steps I must take towards a life that will never be mine.

Keep smiling, head down, don't let them know .

It's painful but I manage to placate a fake grin on my face, looking down, my father holding my arm on my right, carrying his daughter to the aisle like a good dad.

God, if only those people knew what he did to me.

How he took my voice and my life choices like I was a chess piece in his twisted game.

No love, no warmth, nothing.

As we enter the chapel, the air crackles around me, the scent of lilies and incense swirling around me in a dizzying haze. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat a reminder of the charade I'm about to perform. If Vox were here, he would notice my empty looking gaze from the get-go, but he is not here.

I’ll have to pick up the broken part of myself without him.

The Chapel is packed. All the members of the community are here today to witness their leader getting married. I have to think of the taste of Vox’s Oreos to stop myself from spilling my guts out on the carpet they laid out for the occasion.

All eyes are on me and my father as we progress down the aisle. I don’t feel like myself, wearing an awfully large white dress, hiding my body from head to toe, my blonde hair styled with white ribbon and my feet bare.

No bride can wear shoes on her wedding day. It’s a way of showing humility.

God, this is so stupid.

I prefer myself much more in black gear on Vox’s motorcycle, not this strange fake innocent bride I’m cosplaying. But I keep my focus downward, my gaze fixed on the floor, my steps measured. Beside me, my father's grip tightens on my arm, his silent command to behave echoing in the pressure of his touch. There’s no affection in the way he is holding me.

This isn’t love, this is control.

As we reach the altar, I steal a glance at the man who awaits me there, trying to keep my head down in front of my captor. His eyes gleam with anticipation, his smile sending a cold shiver down my spine.

I don’t know if there is such a thing as the prize for the creepiest man alive, but he would definitely win it. His large white gown matches mine, his feet held in brown sandals, the corner of his mouth carrying a small white paste of dried saliva.

Ew. Ew. Eww.

But that’s not the worst. The most awful part is how he’s looking at me. Eyes wide, his tongue slipping out to wet his lower lip like I’m a dessert he’s about the feast on. My father gives him my hand roughly, making my blood run cold as the Sheperd’s skin touches mine.

You can do this.

Somehow, I’m glad he’s acting this way. It means he doesn’t suspect that I’m about to rewrite the rules of his book. But still, I can’t help but sense that this is the lowest moment of my life.

My very own rock bottom.

“To cleanse our sins…” the Shepherd almost yells, excitement in his high-pitched voice.

“…We must obey,” answers the crowd. I lift my head slightly to the left of the room, noticing my father joining my mother on the first bench. Jezebel and Greta’s families are a few rows from me, smiling to their ears, their hair braided with their brown dresses on.

They are happy for me.

If only they knew what their fathers did. I don’t even know if it would be enough for them to run away. I hope I’ll find a way to tell them one day, and that they will forgive me for not taking the time to explain why I left today.

“Aaah, what a beautiful day.” The Shepherd spreads his arm like a messiah. “Today, your leader is uniting himself with the womb who will carry the children of the Faithful Lambs and spread the word.”

Oohs and aws echo from the rows in front of us, some women bouncing back and forth like a spirit has taken control of their bodies. I lower my sight, unable to face the grins of the members. It’s wrong, so wrong I can’t stand it.

A womb. To them, that’s all I am.

Not to Vox, not to him. He sees me. I know he does.

But if he does, why is he not here?

If only they knew how the silent girl became a strong woman thanks to a dark knight. They would lose their minds over it.

I’m afraid I’m gonna pass out if I let my emotion swallow me whole, so I focus on my fingers, mentally driving my eyes around their shapes, inhaling and exhaling deeply each time I’m done with a finger.

It helps.

A bit.

“Well, let’s start,” the Shepherd says, clapping his hand once, then moving his palms down to ask people to sit. And they do, like the good obedient lambs they are.

The Shepherd is the one who officiates all our gatherings, even today on his own wedding day. I’m not surprised he hasn’t asked an Elder to do it. The man loves his spotlight. Little does he know that today is actually my time to shine. I know I’ll bring chaos after my escape but it’s for the best. I hope it will eventually plant a seed of doubt in all the girls in the room, and perhaps one day that seed will bloom into a full rebellion, unable to be contained.

“When a man chooses his women, it is necessary to unite them by blood,” he states, and I know what’s coming next from the way his left hand fidgets in the pocket of his gown.

“Because, as you know, the husband cannot fulfill his destiny if his property isn’t fully attached to him. And we must all work on reaching the Ascendium to bring the light on this corrupt and dangerous world.” Murmurs of approval echo in the room.

I used to listen carefully to those monologues, drinking each word with attention, but not anymore. This is becoming more unbearable as each second passes.

“Which is why we will now perform the blood ritual,” he says with a large grin, pulling out his knife, making me tense all of the sudden.

I don’t like blood.

Never did.

But I can’t say I’m not used to it. Even at home, I had my fair share of punishment where I learned quickly that pain was mostly a construct of the mind. Learning to dissociate myself from those moments became my only way to survive them. So I did. Each time I had to face a punishment, I wandered in the fantasies of my mind, dreaming about a life I would never get, letting my open flesh spill without moving, without fighting.

Would I still be strong enough to handle it, knowing it had no purpose?

This question will soon find an answer. I grit my teeth hoping I won’t flinch until it’s my time to escape.

“Child, give me your hand,” he orders sighing loudly like he’s been expecting this moment with excitement.

I could look away, find my friend's reassuring gaze and bite my lips to make it more bearable. But I don’t. This isn’t who I am anymore. I want to watch him cut my flesh open and remind myself each day that this scar will be the living proof of my strength. The tattoo I’ll always keep on me, reminding me how hope can bloom from the most broken soil.

I won’t look at it and think of the Shepherd, of the lies, the disbeliefs or the charade my life had been. It will be a testament of the fire I had in me that day. A fire roaring with such a force nobody could ever stop it. So I stare at my hand while he cuts my skin, letting the blood spill on the floor. I’m surprised there’s not more of it.

Why did he hold back?

Moving closer to me, his body towering over mine, he whispers, “Not too deep, little lamb. I want you pure and untouched when I’ll claim you.”

I swallow hard.

Pure and untouched.

God, no.

Vox would never say something like that to me. He would worship me even if I were covered in blood and bruises. He would tend to my wounds and kiss each scar, letting me know how much I mean to him.

Instinct kicks in and I put a forced smile on my face. If he finds out about my plans, I won’t have the element of surprise to escape anymore.

“ And with his blood, she becomes him, his wife, his eternal shadow, ” he says, quoting from the Ascendium, reminding me of the last time I saw Savannah. Cutting his own palm, barely enough to spill blood, like the coward he is, he grabs my hand eagerly, raising our palms up as if we had won something.

The crowd applauds, smiles wide on their faces.

Step one.

Done.

Vox

“Dario, Dario… you knew it was bad enough to steal our guns, why did you have to try and burn our warehouse too?” I say, shaking my head.

Carter walks to his right, the man covered in blood, on his knees, a part of his face shredded with the electric peeler we got for the tough ones. Dario is from the Steelhawks of Seattle. He’s not the most valuable man but still, he had some responsibilities, so we’re pretty lucky to have him here. Carter took his time with him, getting all the information we needed. We'll finish him and then I'll take off.

Cause despite acting like I fuckin’ enjoy cuttin’ guys in the basement, my mind has been rolling nonstop toward someone else for weeks.

I just needed Carter to buy it and not suspect a thing. Even if I’m his vice-president, I’m not above Ares’ orders, and he fuckin’ knows it. Carter stands behind Dario, his hand resting on both sides of his face.

“A last word, Dario?”

“Fuck you,” the guy says, spitting out blood.

“Alright,” Carter answers with a grin on his face before snapping Dario’s neck. His body falling immediately forward like a ragdoll.

“Good job, Carter, we're done for today,” I say, wiping my hands on an already blood-soaked cloth.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go get yourself something to eat, you need it.”

C’mon, brother, just get out and let me do my thing.

“Vox…” His voice is lower than usual. “Don’t think it’s a fuckin’ good idea,” he says, standing in front of the exit door, rubbing his chin with his palm.

“The fuck you mean?” I say, arching a brow.

Stay calm.

“You know what I mean.” He crosses his arms.

I stay still, my poker face on, like I’ve been doing for so many years it became second nature. Only I’m used to be myself around my brothers, they’re family. It fuckin’ hurts to lie to them right now, but I don’t have a choice if I want to protect them too. No fuckin’ chance I’m takin’ them in my fall.

Cause I’m the one who fell.

Fell hard for her. And I'll pay the price of it on my own.

“Move, Carter, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Don’t make me involve you.

“Shadow came to me yesterday,” he says with his usual blank tone.

Neither of us moves, both staying put in a standoff I wasn't expecting from him. Carter’s one of our best soldiers, fuckin’ loyal to Ares.

“Don’t know what the fuck he told ya, but you’d better remember who you’re talkin’ to and fuckin’ move.” He swallows hard, his hand shaking on his side.

Yeah, he knows.

But somehow he steps aside and lets me pass, his deep gaze locked in mine, watchin’ me as if I was fuckin’ crazy.

And I am.

I’m a full kaleidoscope of craziness for my girl and I’m not embarrassed of it.

Before I disappear from the corridor leading me to the main hall, his voice vibrates behind me.

“You’re a dead man if you go to her.”

I bend my head slightly to the side, the light of the hall lightin’ up half of my face while the rest stays in the darkness. Just like me ever since I met my angel.

“I know,” and I walk out, ready to get my girl out.

The wedding is around ten a.m. She told me it was at her Chapel at the other side of town. It's already 9.30 and I need to move the fuck out if I want to be there before the fuckin’ ceremony.

My plan is borderline insane, but I'm willin’ to risk my life on it.

If I get to enter the church during her ceremony, which I have no clue how that thing goes, I should be able to shoot Skarn and get her out. She’ll be free from him and never have to live in fear of him hurting her ever again. I wish I could give him a slower and more painful death but he's not my priority here.

She is.

I know my brothers are gonna hunt me as soon as I step out of here, but what’s the point of life if you don’t fight for what’s worth livin’?

I'm already a dead man as I'm heading toward the parking lot, each step sending me farther from my prez’s orders. I'd rather die knowing I gave her all of me. Knowing she’ll finally be free.

But somethin’s off.

No one stops me on my way out, although my brothers’ gazes weigh heavy on me as I walk past them playing cards, cleaning weapons and working on their bikes.

Fuck, do they know where I'm heading?

Why is no one stopping me?

Shadow’s waiting for me outside, a smoke in his hand.

We exchange one look. One that says it all.

I nod to him slightly, thanking him for his help, knowing full well that he'll have to pay the price of lettin’ me go, and I fuckin' hope Ares will go easy on him. I’m glad Ares’ is out on a warehouse visit this morning.

As the sun continues to rise over Knoxville, I straddle my black Harley, feelin’ its power thrum beneath me. I give the warehouse one last look, clenchin’ my jaw at the thought that it's perhaps my last moment as vice-president of the Raven Sons.

My brothers, my family.

The streets are quiet, but my mind’s buzzin’ with urgency as I set off towards the Chapel, Rose's safety driving me forward.

I’m comin’, Angel.

Twenty minutes feels like an eternity as I race against time. Then the Chapel looms ahead, so many fuckin’ cars parked in front of it. With each passin’ moment, the weight of my betrayal grows heavier on my shoulders, but I push it aside, focusin’ on my only goal.

Saving my girl.

As I remove my helmet, my bike parked in front of the two large brown doors, a thunderous roar shatters behind me. I whip my head around just in time to see the club's black van hurtling towards me. Adrenaline surges through my veins as I leap into action. There's no time to waste—I dismount my bike, headin’ straight to the door, takin’ my Glock from the holster inside my jacket.

With a quick glance at the approachin’ van, I freeze. The door opens, Shadow jumping out of it, Carter behind the wheel.

The fuck?

“Told ya I'd help ya, brother. Don't fuckin’ think we were gonna let ya down,” Shadow shouts.

They came to help me.

Shadow and Carter. They knew the stakes and still they came.

I have no fuckin' word for how grateful I am.

“Don't, guys, Ares won't fuckin' forgive ya. You'll be like me. Traitors,” I say, shaking my head with my gun in my hand.

Shadows takes a glance at Carter, both of them exchangin’ a nod.

“Yeah, well, I hope your girl’s worth it cause we are in deep shit here.” He grins.

“Shadow, I can't accept–” I raise my palm to him cause, shit, I don’t want him to lose everythin’ cause of me.

But he cuts me off, walking toward the step leadin’ to the door, standin’ beside by me, his Glock in his hand.

“We’re brothers, Vox. Brothers have each other's back.” His tone is low and serious, his hand restin’ on my shoulder.

Damn it.

“We enter, I shoot him, I get her, and we get the fuck out,” I tell him my plan.

“Hell yeah.” He grins, removin’ the safety from his gun.

We exchange one last look and I push the door with my leather boots, shootin’ the ceiling, lettin’ our host know we’re here.

Horrified shouts fill the place as I try to find my girl in the crowd. But the world shuts down on me as I find her right away. Her body is floating head down in a small transparent pool in the middle of a fuckin’ stage.

It's too late.

No. No. No.

Please.

Don't let it be the end.

Rose

Come on, you can do it.

One more ritual and it’ll all be over.

The next step won't be as easy to pass. My eyes drift toward the small pool in the middle of the stage. I've seen women survive and others die in this pool. The very same one where Savannah remained still, floating like a dead fish. The holy bath lasts around three minutes, some husbands make it easier or harder depending on their ego and pressure on their shoulders. Needless to say that the Shepherd has no intention of being the butt of a joke today.

He wants to showcase strength and power.

And I'm the outlet he has chosen to do so.

Lucky me.

Letting our arms fall on our sides, his hand slides on my wrist, grabbing it firmly like a leash on a dog.

“Move toward the bath.” His tone is cold and distant, low enough that only I can hear him. I take three steps before standing right above the water. My little four dollars, folded in the elastic band of my knickers, are the only things reminding me that this is almost over.

I hear murmurs and steps in the room. Members are coming closer to us, to me, to the water.

And it hits me.

They want to see the show.

They want a closer look at my struggle, like precious memorabilia in their mind. Something they'll tell their grandkids one day, “When our Shepherd got married, Grandma and Grandpa were there, we saw everything.”

I bet they hope I'll drown, giving them more to talk about. Perhaps most of the families wish the Shepherd had chosen one of their girls. Witnessing my death would be the answer to their jealous prayers. An old and dirty breath hits my neck, the Shepherd right behind me, both of us facing the crowd.

His thin lips whisper in my ear, “The water will cleanse you, Rose. And you need it more than anyone here. After all, the Divine does not harm his lambs without reason.”

I freeze as his words slap me right in the face.

Is he implying that I’ve become mute because of my doubt towards the community?

It takes everything I have in me to not turn and punch him in his face.

Calm down, Rose, it will all be over soon .

“Kneel, hands on your thighs,” he says, his tone commanding, expecting me to oblige like a puppet. I do it and hate it when he then pats my hair twice, rewarding me like a good dog for following his orders. “Good little lamb, very good. I'm pleased.”

Freaking psycho.

But I mustn't be distracted by his behavior or all the eyes on me at the moment. All I have to focus on is to hold my breath as long as I can.

Three minutes, that’s all it takes.

I can do it.

I’ve trained myself for years in my shower, expecting the day this would happen. All the girls do this here. Mothers tell their daughters to do so.

Fisting my hair hard, pulling the strands so much it hurts, he kneels next to me and manages to push me to the floor before pulling my head to face him, so close our noses touch and I freeze, trying to hide my disgust as much as I can.

Once it’s done, the Elders will come and congratulate the Shepherd and it will be my opportunity to step back to the door next to the stage. An emergency exit opens right to the forest behind the Chapel, far from the parking lot.

It will be my only chance to run and hide.

My plan is bad, I know it.

But that's all I have.

“I am now going to perform the last part of the ritual.” His voice is all too eager to drown me.

None of this feels right.

There’s a tension floating in the air, all eyes on me, daring me to fight.

“There was once a time when the Divine felt a part of himself lacking. After decades of leading our community with its light, the Divine found itself in need of a womb to make him whole again. But it couldn't choose any women from the earth. No.” Shaking his head, his hands hold firm on my shoulders.

“She had to be pure and worthy enough of its power, of its gifts.” I barely listen to this tale I've heard so many times I could say it myself.

It's harder to listen to those words now that I know it’s been a lie from the beginning. I always thought about the Divine as a higher power over us, a man capable of making miracles, creating life and shaping destinies. Only the more I listen, the more it seems that the Divine has always been a fantasy, an idea coming out of the head of an ego maniac, matching his frenzied self. It has always been about him, from the beginning. My heart aches knowing all the hours I've spent praying to an empty void of nothing.

Wasted time.

Wishes turned into dust.

His hand then fists my hair harder than it should, angling it to face him from below.

“And you, Rose, will become my other half, mine.” I want to shake my head, yell, do something to tell them that no.

I will never be his.

Because someone else has already gathered the broken pieces of my heart. Someone who deserves it. Somehow who's as broken as I am and still wants me.

“You've been chosen by the Divine to welcome our children and become worthy of the Ascendium.” He looks up toward the ceiling as if the Divine itself could see him.

Murmurs and prayers surround me.

“What an honor.”

“Bless your heart.”

“We shall pray for your children.”

“Oh, Holy Shepherd, show us the way.”

“Quiet!” he shouts.

The silence is immediate.

“It's time, Rose. Say goodbye to your parents; you shall come out of this ritual forever changed. You'll belong to me.” He stares at me, pulling so hard at my scalp my eyes get watery.

My parents walk towards the stage, both of them standing beside me while I’m still kneeling on the floor, my hair gathered into the fist of the Shepherd.

What a show.

Never knew my father could act as a warm and worried father so well.

“Goodbye, daughter, this is the greatest honor of your life,” he says, locking his eyes in mine, a wicked smile on his face. He knows I'm stuck, and without a voice, there's not much I can do.

“Oh Rose, goodbye, my child. Your father and I will miss you so much. So much . Go on, fulfill your duty,” my mother says, crying silently, caressing my cheek so tenderly I almost believe it. Once they're satisfied, they step back a bit, to have a better view, I guess .

“Enter the bath.” His voice hits me from behind, his fist letting go of my scalp, his hand pushing my back slightly toward the water.

I remove my legs from under my thighs and enter the bath, the freezing water sending shockwaves through my body.

“More.”

I enter it fully, the water covering me from shoulders to toes.

It’s so cold.

“Survive or die. There's no way out for you, little lamb,” he says, coming closer, one knee on the ground, his hand fisting my hair and holding my neck.

Come on, Rose, one more step and you’ll be done.

I take the deepest inhale that I can before his hand pushes me under water. I've trained myself enough for it. I know what to do. Pinching my nose with my fingers, I start counting the seconds in my head. My only way to keep track of time.

20, 21, 22… I focus on my senses, the water moving around me, my heartbeat pounding slowly in my chest, my mind trying as hard as I can to stay still. I know that's how to survive this, to stay put and let the world disappear around me. Letting their voices and chants dull into white noise.

I'm almost there. I can already see the forest I will run to.

43,44,45… I swallow, ignoring my lungs burning in my chest, asking me for air. Vox flashes in my eyes, his muscular and veiny hands signing to me in a kitchen I do not know. Pink flowers in a vase on the round table behind him. The scent of leather and vanilla mixed up together in a flat, candles and plants displayed on a fireplace. I step toward him, but his body disappears in a cloud of dust.

My four dollar bills are wet, but I'll still use them to pay for a bus going as far away as I can. I will start over. I will fight for myself.

90,91,92… We're driving fast, chasing the sunrise on his bike, with towels and food in my backpack, heading towards a beach I've never been to. Vox links his fingers with mine on the sand, kissing the back of my hand and looking at me with his intoxicating gaze, making my knees weak and a blush rise on my cheeks. I try to smile back at him but my throat aches too much.

Where is the forest? I don't feel the dollars in my elastic band anymore. I don't remember why I brought them with me in the first place .

135,136,137… I'm creating a bouquet of fresh flowers with an old lady I’ve never met. Our green aprons match in the little whimsical shop. An orange cat is playing with a cactus on the counter. I laugh but the floor disappears under my feet and it all fades to black.

I need air, so bad, please, anyone, please. Let me breathe .

178,179,180… A tattooed hand caresses my swollen belly, something under my skin kicks him, and his manly and warm laugh makes me fall even harder for him. I notice the ring on his finger, but black spots cover my vision before I can ask him about it.

It should be over, please, please, please. I don't want to die .

Was it the plan all along? To make me go away?

190,191,192… Numbers melt into each other, my mind unable to keep counting. It's been over three minutes and I know I won't last any longer. My lungs are empty and so are my hopes.

Vox, my love, my everything.

I'm so sorry I wasn't strong enough.

I wish I could have told you how much I–

I stopped counting and let the water enter my nostrils and my mouth. I can’t think, I can’t breathe. I know this is the end. Everything hurts from my bones to my lungs and my aching throat brings me back to the night I've lost my voice.

To the night that changed it all.

-

And all of the sudden I find myself back in my old bedroom. The one I had before we'd move into our new house next to my dark knight.

The smell of ashes and fire wake me up in the middle of the night. I run to my door but it's stuck. I can't open it. My jaw falls on the floor as I remember Father locked me in before sleep to punish me for trying to read a book from the outside world at the public library.

“You will learn one day, daughter, that I’m locking the door for your own good. Don’t ever try to get away; there’s only one key and I’m keeping it,” he said before shutting the door on me yesterday.

He locked me in.

My heart pumps in my chest, my eyes looking everywhere for a way out. The flames are getting stronger, dancing around my windows and moving dangerously close to me.

“Father! Mother! I'm here! Please!”

But no one comes. I’m stuck, the smoke filling my lungs as I kneel down, trying to find air.

I have no idea how the fire started, but in a house made entirely of wood, it isn't the most surprising thing. My hand finds my throat as I suffocate, the smoke entering my body.

It hurts so much.

“Father, please,” I try again but my voice is only a whisper now, the smoke suffocating my every word.

“Please, please,” I mouth, laying on the floor, the flames walking toward me, touching my nightgown.

I can't die here. No. There must be a way.

I glance the window and make the decision in the second.

Running toward the flames, I open it and jump out of the window. Landing two floors below on the lawn, my legs hurt and my dress is on fire while I hear voices of neighbors running toward me.

I’m in so much pain.

Everything fades to black as I try to shout.

My voice vanishes silently in the darkness around me.

-

My body floats like a cloud.

I'm light, so light. I hear an explosion, but it's far away, so far it sounds like a lullaby, melting into the background noise.

My heart slows down, beating at a soothing pace, drifting me away, telling me to let go. And because there's no more hopes of escapism, flower shops and swollen bellies, I let go, opening my arms wide.

I welcome death and think one last time of the dark knight who'll forever own my heart.