Tuesday 15 March 2016

Prologue

I don't know where I am. I scream. No one hears me. No one is here. Or no one but him. I can't see anything. It's so dark that I can close my eyes and feel the black.
I try to run, but I don't trust my legs. Instead, I crawl until I find a wall. Feeling my way along the wall, I search frantically for the door.
I hear footsteps, echoing through the darkness. No, no, don't be back yet! I panic. I don't know what he'll do if he finds I've freed myself from the ropes. I freeze. I want to move somewhere he won't find me, but my body refuses.
The footsteps are getting louder, louder, but I can hardly hear them over the sound of my heart pounding. I feel my muscles tense. I can't move.
There's a click. The door slowly squeaks on its hinges.
"Good morning, Princess," his mocking voice utters. "We have a long day ahead of us." He moves towards the timber beam I was tied to. He stops.
"Where are you, Princess? It would be a shame if you have escaped." I hear the dull ring of his freshly drawn dagger. I feel myself quiver. I suddenly feel a warm sensation spreading where I sit. I can't stop it.
"Where are you, Princess?" He's moving towards me. I cower against the wall. My muscles are sore and cramped, and I can feel myself exploding. I try unsuccessfully to stop the flow.
Please don't find me. Please don't find me. Please don't find me. It becomes a chant in my head.
My skirts are soaked. I hold my breath. Please don't find me. His heavy boots move across the stone floor towards me, clomp, clomp, clomp. Please don't find me. He stops. I know he can't see me, not in this light, but I don't dare make a move. I can't. Please don't find me.
I feel myself slow up, and finally, I stop. I still can't hear anything. Maybe he can see me. Or maybe he has gone. No, he hasn't gone. He's still here. Please don't find me.
I hear him breath in. It sounds more like a wolf sniffing the air than a human breath. "I know you're here. I can sssmeeell you," drawing the word out with a hiss. He starts moving again, making splashes as he stomps through my excretion. "So you couldn't hold it in? I knew you were pathetic."
He stops again, but I know he's right in front of me. He's found me. I feel a heavy boot land on my knee with excessive force, pushing it downwards into the floor. I scream in pain.
"Shut up, you little harlot! You'll scream more that before I'm done with you!" He crouches down over me, licks my ear, and hisses menacingly, "And your precious Albert isn't coming. He's dead." He wipes something warm and sticky off his dagger on to my arm. It is blood.

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