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He’s right. I’m not dying yet.
Not today.
I won’t let him get away with his plan.
I search through the boxes with shaking fingers, barely able to read my scribble on the sides due to the low light. I don’t dare turn on the lightbulb in case Roger sees and comes up after me. They are full of all my old stuff from my parents’ house. Roger didn’t want this crap in his house, so I hid it up here. There has to be something I can use to bind my wounds and keep myself warm.
Anything will do. I refuse to die here.
I will not die here.
I repeat it like a mantra as I search, my body aching everywhere.
I will not die here.
The first box holds nothing useful, so I push it gently to the side, panting from the effort as I rip open the one underneath. I have to take a moment to breathe through the pain and dizziness assaulting me.
I will not die here.
My hands hit something hard, and I blink, squinting as I try to see the contents. When I finally can, I realize it’s a picture from when I was younger and happy. The sun is shining down on my friends and me, our bikes forgotten to the side. We were so carefree and happy, it hurts just to look at it. With a pitiful scream, I use some of the last of my strength to pick up the frame and throw it. I hear it crash and shatter where it lands, just like my soul as I risk Roger’s wrath. Hopefully, he went to the bar to drink.
I’m not that girl anymore. He killed her a long time ago, but I won’t betray her memory.
I will not give in that easily. I will not die here.
With a renewed sense of urgency, I tear into another box, and another, until I find an old forgotten shawl. It’s lacy, probably my mother’s, and eaten through with moth holes, but it’s better than nothing. I drape it over my shoulders, shivering in the chill. I pull it closed with one hand while I continue to search with the other. As more time passes, the pain only seems to increase, and I know I don’t have long before I pass out. Black dots start to dance and twirl across my vision, my breathing becomes labored, and my skin is too hot and cold all at the same time.
There’s more useless crap inside, and I toss it aside with an animalistic cry of panic as I blink rapidly, trying to bring my vision back.
I won’t die here. I won’t die here. I won’t die here.
At the bottom of the box, forgotten and alone, resides a black card. Frowning, I pick it up and shift up to my knees as I bring it closer, trying to make sense of it as my brain shuts down.
It’s a playing card.
The joker grins from ear to ear, and there is a heart in his mouth. He holds a knife in his hand, appearing both threatening and comforting. Something about it is familiar, but I’m too weak, too close to the darkness. Shaking my head, I try to figure out why it’s here, why it’s important, and why my fingers can’t seem to let it go.
The circus . . . The circus . . . I got it at the circus, didn’t I?
Yes, I know I’m right, even as my body gives up.
Gripping the forgotten card in my grasp, I slump onto the hardwood, hearing the thump of my body hitting it, but I feel nothing. My blackening vision remains locked on the joker, the red color shining despite the years that have passed since I got it. My thumb brushes across its face, smearing my own blood over it.
It’s the last thing I see, glowing with my blood, before the darkness takes me once more, but this time, I go somewhere warm and safe.
Someplace where I am free.
I will not die here.
Chapter
Three
The call comes so brutally and swiftly, it nearly chokes me in my sleep. I’ve felt the call of the cards before—we all have—but never this strongly. Gasping for breath, I wrench myself from my small cot and cough, trying to clear the feeling of hopelessness and strangulation from my throat. Nothing I do dispels it. My chest is so tight I can’t even take a full breath. Usually, a tingling sensation behind my eyes and a pull to follow a path come to me, but this time, I see her.
I see the one who calls.
I blink, and the scene before me flashes into another. I see an unfinished ceiling in an attic and blood splattered everywhere. The pain I feel is so strong, I double over, even as I try to extend the connection. Finally, I see a woman on the floorboards, unmoving. She’s so small and still. For a moment, a boring two-story house flashes across her image.
