Trapped

Chapter One

Thump, thump... thump, thump. The wagon rolls over what must be the hundredth rut, and I wince as my head jolts up and then slams back down against the wagon bed. With every bump, I feel a stab of pain in my aching bones.

The quiet tears running down my cheeks turn into loud sobs. I'm tired and frustrated, I think I would do anything to get out of this wagon, and most of all I miss Robert. The immense need to take out my anger on something boils deep inside me, but I know that acting violent could be a dreadful mistake. Instead, I take it out on myself. I scratch the skin on my beat up arm as hard as I can with my broken nails. For some grotesque reason, the white line running all the way down my arm immensely fascinates me, and I watch as the scratch line slowly turns pink.

"Look at her. She's mad," I hear my aunt whisper from the front of the wagon.

"Self-harm," the sheriff disapprovingly clicks while steering the team of horses onto another road. "One of the first telltale signs of a lunatic."

For a flicker of a second, I think about arguing that I am not crazy, but I know it wouldn't do any good. Why does it really matter? If they want to believe I'm a lunatic, so be it.

Resting my pounding head on the back of my arm, I'm somehow able to doze off. It must be a good while before I wake up again because when I open my eyes the scenery around me looks foreign. I don't recognize any of the passing landmarks, which is odd because I've lived in this part of Georgia my whole life. I thought for sure that I had seen it all. I suppose I was wrong.

Sitting up, I glance over at Mother and am relieved to see that her passed out body sprawled across the wagon bed beside me is still breathing. If she can just hold on for a few more minutes... "How much longer?" I nervously ask the pair in front of me.

Anna looks to Sheriff McGovern for an answer. The middle-aged sheriff wipes droplets of sweat from his brow, "Probably another seven miles or so."

"She may not last that long!" I exclaim, the feeling of alarm only growing inside me.

"She'd better last that long; I don't want this trip all the way up here to be a waste," Sheriff McGovern grumbles.

Forcing myself to lie back down, I try to find a comfortable position, but between my sore body and tender bruised skin, I can't make myself too at home. I try to fall back asleep, but it's no use. I'm too anxious and uncomfortable. I never meant for it to be like this. I didn't mean for this to happen.

It's just as well that I can't fall asleep. Anna and Sheriff McGovern make me feel uneasy, although I can't quite pinpoint why. Several times during the ride, I have to fight the urge to jump off the wagon and run for the hills. But I have to stay with Mother. She needs medical attention, and so do I.

My eyes wander over to my aunt, her back a straight line, blonde hair twisted into a fashionable bun, and a new plumb colored hat perched just so atop her head. It was only three weeks ago that I saw her for the first time, but it feels like three years. Father had been dead for exactly a week. Spending virtually all my waking hours locked in my room, I decided on that particular day I was in desperate need of a change. I selected a book off my overflowing bookshelf and brought it downstairs to the parlor. Just as the book was starting to get  interesting, there was a knock on the front door. Leaving the pretty yellow ribbon I got for my birthday four years ago from Robert to save my place, I curiously went to the door.