Page 32 of A Whisper of Cinders

It would explain why I am feeling so slow and dazed. A thought occurs to me, maybe I’m not alone here. “Hello?”

My voice is raw, barely more than a rasp, as if I’ve been screaming for hours. The silence that follows is deafening. If anyone is in here with me, they choose not to answer.

I try to move my hands, twisting my wrists, testing the limits of my restraints. They hold firm, no matter how hard I pull, it is useless. I focus on my breathing, steadying my thoughts. But my mind rebels, and against my will, memories surge forward, filling the void.

I don’t want to relive this, but all I see is Ami’s face flashing behind my closed eyes and the judgmental gazes from everyone around me. I didn’t do it. I know I would never in a million years hurt her, but I’m sure I would say the same about my mother and…

No. I will not go there.

I didn’t do this.

A bumpy road swings my body from left to right, and even with restraints, it’s hard for me to remain seated. The car drives into a deep pit and my head bumps against what I suppose is the window.

“Ah, shit!”

I try to touch the painful spot, but my hands can’t reach it. My headache intensifies and I know without a doubt there will be a bump the size of a goose egg on my head. But that is the least of my worries.

Where the hell are they taking me?

If they really think I…murdered someone… What do they do to murderers? Can’t be anything good… The air gets stuck in my throat. I heard gossip once, in the hallways of Anima, about someone that went into a frenzy, causing many casualties and got transported to a place worse than here. Where they torture you for everyone to see, pull out your nails, make you scream until your vocal cords tear.

Because if therapy doesn’t make you a better person, beating the shit out of you will create another version of you. I’m used to beatings and lashings, so it can’t be worse than that, right?

As I make up the worst-case scenarios in my head, a heavy feeling settles in my stomach. Not precisely unpleasant, but not very enjoyable either. The further we go, the more it intensifies until it feels like my skin is on fire and my heart beats irregularly. A sharp vibration ripples through me, followed by white-hot pain behind my eyes, making me flinch. I gasp for air that isn’t there, nearly toppling over as nausea coils in my stomach.

Am I dying?

Did they give me some kind of poison? Will I take my last breath alone, tied up in a car? Is the air getting lighter in here or is it just me?

Right when the air stops flowing into my lungs and I choke, the vehicle slows and halts abruptly. With it comes my sanity. I need to fight my way out of this. I’ll probably lose, I’m not that strong, but I should at least try.

A door opens and slams shut, followed by the sound of another one sliding open next to me. The cold wind that comes with it makes me shiver. Heavy boots make the car dip and someone searches for a key. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright?” a low voice mumbles.

Cold hands take care of the chains around my wrists. It’s only when I can move my hands freely, I notice how numb my fingers have become. He frees my ankles as well, the blindfold unfortunately stays on. But either way, this is good. With this I…

Oh.

Although the chains around my wrists are gone, they are rapidly replaced by a rope, keeping them tightly together. A little inconvenient, but with no restraints on my ankles, I can still run.

Fingers enclose around my upper arm and I can’t help but shrink away from them, but that only tightens the grip of the man. I stop struggling after that. If he thinks I’m weak and willing, he won’t pay that much attention to me. “Where…where are you taking me?” Act innocent and scared, although I don’t need to fake it that much. I am scared. They think I’ve committed a crime I didn’t do.

The man helps me out of the vehicle, kind enough to warn me for the high step. “Sorry lass, cannot say.”

Of course he can’t. “I am sorry too,” I whisper.

“Huh?”

With every bit of strength in my body, I ram my shoulder into him. I hear a grunt and he releases me. I am free. I don’t think, I run. I can’t see where I am going and I can only pray I don’t run face first into a tree or anything else.

My breath is shallow, it feels like someone is stabbing me in the side with a hot poke and even though I’m blindfolded, little black dots dance in my vision. I am out of shape.

It only takes a couple of seconds, a minute at most, before I’m tackled into soft and cold wetness. At least the snow is still familiar.. I could hurry back up, try again once more, but to what use? That little sprint sucked every bit of energy out of me.

“Come on, up with you.”

I spit out some snow that got in my mouth and slowly stand up, the man surprisingly gentle with someone who just tried to escape. He turns me in the opposite direction — guess I was headed the right way after all — and we slowly start walking.

“I knew you were going to try to run.”