The Wolfe Manor - DISCONTINUED

Chapter Twelve

Maria

"Let me out, please!" I wailed, banging my fists against the door. My throat was scratchy now and my knuckles hurt from slamming them but I didn't stop. Master Wolfe had left minutes ago and I doubted if he was still nearby; he probably was downstairs by now.

I looked around for anything to break the door open with and spotted a chair in the corner of the room. Frantically, I grabbed it and slammed it against the door. I hoped to at least splinter some of the wood enough, but to no avail. The chair's legs broke and the pieces fell around me. I knew I was going to be in this room until somebody came to get me but I couldn't give up. There had to be a way out.

I looked around for anything else that might've been of use. There was a big desk and the broken remains of the chair that lay in a heap at my feet, but nothing else. There was very little light and the only source was a tiny window in the corner of the triangular roof. It wasn't big enough for a person to fit in through and even if so, I wouldn't be able to escape anyway as I was too high up. But I reached on my tiptoes and banged on the window, too hysteric to even realize it wouldn't do any good if the window broke.

I stopped and stumbled back until I hit the door. Slumping down against it, I sobbed quietly and rubbed my face. A million thoughts raced in my mind and none were good. How did Master Wolfe find out about the poison? He clearly didn't ingest it. Maybe it was Baine that had gotten poisoned. But what did it matter? Master Wolfe had found out about it and the other slaves just threw me under the bus. Why would they do that when I was trying to help them and myself escape?

I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked at my hands. They looked awful. The blood had dried up, leaving nothing but a crusty red gash going across my hands. It was hard to cup or stretch my hand without feeling some pain shoot up my arm. I felt weak and hungry, and my strength was leaving me. Leaning against the door, I curled up into a ball and waited. For what I didn't know. The silence on the third floor was intense.

The time seemed to go by quickly but slowly. I closed my eyes but didn't fall asleep. I was in too much discomfort to even rest; my hands burned, my scalp throbbed, and my stomach wrenched with hunger. How was I going to get out of this mess?

I don't know how long it was when I opened my eyes, but I found the sun's rays peeking from the tiny little window faintly as if it were dusk. I missed seeing the light but that couldn't make me relieved. Master Wolfe was going to keep us in here until he maimed us to death no matter what. Every effort for me to try to escape was all in vain. Both attempts were dumb mistakes, and they got me here. They got me in this little room with nothing but a window, a broken chair, and a desk to keep me company. It would be no surprise to me if Master Wolfe let me rot in here until I was nothing but a bag of bones.

There could be something in the desk, Maria. A little voice in my head whispered. There could be. But it would be very unlikely if a key or a little pin to pick the lock would be in there; Master Wolfe wasn't stupid enough to keep me in a room where I could get out. But nonetheless, I heaved myself up from the floor and trudged to the desk. Reaching out with a shaking hand, I opened one of the top drawers. A little cloud of disturbed dust and debris floated its way up to my face and I coughed, fanning my face to keep the dust from going into my nose. Except for a loose cobweb, nothing else was in there. I decided to open the next. More dust. The next. Even more dust.

When I opened the fourth drawer and I found a scrap of aged white paper. I picked it up gingerly in my hands for fear it crumbling to pieces and observed it. It was faded away and the lettering was almost invisible, but I could make out most of it to understand what it said.

October 2nd, 1991

My Dearest Madison,

While I am away on an important business trip, I can promise you I will be there before late. I would not fret too much, but I thank you for expressing your concerns to me in your latest letter. I pray I will at least make it home next week but with the way things are heading I am not too sure. Rest assured I will be coming back home before next month. It shouldn't be too late then.

Things are surely keeping me occupied in Wingston. It's a busy little town with busy little people. With the looks of it, you would think it's a boring village just off the outskirts of Beckindale but you would have been very much mistaken. Johnathan has introduced to me stories I just can't keep up with–or believe. Whether the stories are fibs or the truth, things certainly do seem to happen here; good and bad. Working in the press is a lot of work, but I manage it. Only barely anyhow. I've written at least five stories so far and three more still need to be written tonight right as I'm writing this. It is almost midnight but I will try to finish the stories before four A.M.

I know I have been typing your last letter on my typewriter but I wanted to make this one special. I know you miss seeing my handwriting and quite frankly, I miss yours too. I suppose that's why I haven't responded to your letter in the past week and I apologize.

Anyway, enough about me. How are you feeling? I can't stop fretting over you these days and I worry something might happen to you while I'm gone. Is he giving you much pain? I can only imagine. What is going on as of late? Is the manor still in one piece? You know I joke, darling. Please tell me everything that's happening.

I love you and miss you very much. I can't wait to be with you again.

Sincerely, William

A letter from the 90s–no wonder the lettering is barely visible. I reread it again and more questions came along with each sentence. Who were Madison and William? They were most likely a couple with a long-distance relationship, but what relation did they have with the manor? Were they still alive? Maybe they were the previous owners before Master Wolfe...

While all these thoughts buzzed around in my head, I decided to store it back. The letter didn't provide a key so it wasn't much use to me. Instead, it only gave me more questions and that I didn't need.

I continued to thoroughly search the desk. I opened the four drawers again but found the same things. I bent down and opened the cabinets carefully. Thankfully, no dust flew into my face but instead, I was greeted with a very old box. Excited, I took it out and flung the top off, but grew dismayed when I saw only piled papers inside. I sifted through them; some had been written on, but I only wanted something that could help me out of here. Putting the box back inside, I opened the other one but couldn't find another thing except for dusty cobwebs and crumbs.

The sun had gone down already, dimming the room until I could no longer see. I gave up. I was tired and miserable. Maybe I would feel better in the morning and maybe then I could try again. I crawled back to the door, leaned against it, and closed my eyes, letting my throbbing body relax for the rest of the remaining day.