The Shadows Within

Chapter Three- The Surprise.

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“We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, ''Blessed are they that mourn.''”- C.S.Lewis.

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It has gone to plan, Your Majesty. The spare has been removed, and is currently being transported to your specified location. The spare has not given too much trouble, Masou took care of that. He is shaping up to be a most excellent heir, Your Majesty. My compliments. As for the other, she will come quietly now that she is alone. I have no doubt about that. She will be delivered to you, exactly as you asked. You can expect us within two quarters. I will not fail you.

Ever Your Servant,
Lornon.

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The floor was cold. It was slightly damp from the fog rolling in through the open door. Cáit pressed her face against it, welcoming the shock to her system. She began to count.

Three hundred and fifty heartbeats later, Cáit found that she was beginning to feel her toes again. Four hundred and twenty heartbeats later, the feeling had returned to her entire lower body. Four hundred and ninety heartbeats later, she was standing once more. Slumped against the wall, yes, but standing. By six hundred and sixty heartbeats, she was ready.

She took hold of her terror, her panic, her shock, her grief, her naseau and every other emotion tearing through her body and she shoved them down. Down, down into the roiling pit of her stomach. She was ashamed of her meltdown. She had things to do. She forced her mind into coherency, forced herself to think clearly. She grabbed a flashlight, a raincoat and her phone tore out the door. It was a ten-minute jog to the main road and from there it was a twenty minute jog to the nearest neighbour’s house, she calculated, if she pushed herself. She would. Already she bullied her stiff limbs into a a brisk run. She had to pace herself. All she had to do was get there. She wouldn’t think about the lonely journey in the dark, she would just get there. They would ring the guards, the guards would find her mother, and everything would be fine. Just fine. Keep running. Just two thousand more heartbeats to go.

She made it to one thousand.

She was concentrating on the steady thud of her feet on the tarmac, the constant, reliable beat of her heart when they grabbed her. Two hands, rough, strong, huge. So big they almost encircled her whole waist. A cry ripped from her mouth as they dug in, lifting her up, up into the air and spinning her around. Her neck whipped back with the force. Out flew her hand, hitting upwards, as hard and as fast as she could. She jerked her knee upwards too, with every ounce of strength she had. It collided with something, a man, her attacker. His grip around her waist did not relent. She hit him repeatedly, pummeling every inch of him she could find in the dark. His fingers were squeezing so tight that she thought he would draw blood. They dug deep into her bones. She stifled the cry of pain that was struggling to escape her lips and instead threw her head back and screamed. Her cries were cut short when he clamped his hand roughly over her mouth. She bit him. As hard as she could. He hadn’t been expecting that. He roared in pain. She kneed him in the groin and wrenched herself out of his grip. She didn’t look back.

One thousand heartbeats Cáit, that’s all. One thousand heartbeats and you’ll be safe. You can make it. Keep running. Cáit silently said a prayer of thanks for the moon. She had always appreciated its beauty, much more than the sun. Tonight however, its light was her guide. Her flashlight would have stood out like a beacon she thought, and  flung it into the bushes. This time, neither the rhythm of her running feet or her heart were steady. Not at all. They both pounded frantically in her ears, so loud she could barely hear anything else. She was positive that he would hear it as well. Shut the hell up!  Her breath was ragged, her muscles on fire with the effort of sprinting, but she had to keep going. She had to get away. She was vaguely aware of a rusty, metallic taste in her mouth. She dragged her sleeve across her lips. It came away red. She hhmped in satisfaction. She had made him bleed. Good, she thought with disgust as she spat the vile liquid out, hope it hurts like hell.

She made it to one thousand five hundred heartbeats.

“Feisty, aren’t you?” The words slashed into her, from behind. She barely had time to turn when he pounced, knocking her to the ground. His weight pinned her underneath him. She was trapped. She wouldn’t look up. She wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Her face remained turned to the side, so her wouldn’t see her tears, so her couldn’t smell her fear. She didn’t react when he rolled off her, stood up and tried to drag her up with him. “ Leave her.” A new voice. One that weakened her knees and made her eyes roll in terror. It crawled across her skin. The malice within that carefully controlled voice crumbled her resolve to escape. It told her she had no chance. She stared, frozen, at the ground. She watched as the boots that belonged to the voice approached. They sported oversized, gold buckles. Who wears stuff like that?  The buckles stopped right before her, almost touching her own feet. No, this can’t be happening. No, no, no. A rough hand underneath her chin wrenched her face up, forcing her to look straight ahead. She stared, against her will. It was him. Not Buckles, not the one who had first attacked her, but him. The boy from the swimming pool, the one with the scars. Her surprise seemed to be echoed in his face. She barely even registered the blow that came from behind, smashing into her skull. Even as her vision blurred, her surprise was still overwhelming. Had he been following me? She leaned over and retched, her head spinning.

 “ Respect your Prince.”

The words were growled at her, from a great distance. The world tilted. Everything was soon lost to shadow.