Chapter 04
1382 Words
CARMEN
Pain was the first thing that greeted me when I woke up again. It was like an old enemy, curling around me, reminding me I was still here, and that survival always seemed to come with its own cost.
It wasn’t the same blinding agony from before. That pain had been sharp and violent, like lightning ripping through my bones. This pain was duller. Heavy. My entire body felt wrapped in thick bruises, pulsing with every heartbeat.
I became aware of warmth first. There was soft fabric beneath me.
The faint hum of something mechanical and beeping nearby.
For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes. I simply lay there, breathing slowly, letting the strange sensations settle around me.
I was still alive. That realization crept in quietly, but it was partnered with the horrible memories of what brought me here.
Arthur.
The beating.
Crawling through the gates.
The road.
The RV headlights.
My eyelid fluttered open slowly.
The room I saw was small but comfortable. Sunlight filtered through a narrow window beside me, painting the walls in soft golden streaks. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, coffee, and something warm and familiar, like laundry detergent.
Not the sterile cold scent of a hospital, that gave me a sense of relief, loosening the knot of concern in my chest.
I shifted slightly.
The movement sent a wave of aches through my body, but something was different now.
I was being supported. I felt stabilized—a warmth I’d never known before. Before, when my parents left me to fend off a monster alone, I’d only felt cold terror.
My gaze slowly drifted downward, and I saw that my right leg was elevated on pillows. It was encased in a white cast from the knee to my foot.
My breath caught, realizing that it really had been broken. I would never have received medical attention for this break at the manor with Arthur, which means it would never have healed right, and if I didn’t escape as I did, I would have had a limp for the rest of my miserable life. Maybe that was what he wanted. To make sure I could never walk, so I could never leave. Maybe that’s why he gave the guards the night off. Maybe that's why the gate was unlocked.
He thought I couldn't walk.
‘Well, guess what, jerk! We would crawl through fire to be free.’
I looked around, alarmed.
I was alone.
But that felt like a stranger's voice echoing within me.
Pushing it aside, I inspected Arthur's latest damage. It felt surreal to have this quiet moment in a plush bed; normally, I would wake up crumpled on the floor where he had left me.
There was thick gauze wrapped around my ribs beneath the loose shirt someone had dressed me in. My arm rested in a sling across my chest, the shoulder stiff and tender every time I shifted.
I noticed that more gauze peeked out from beneath the sleeves and neckline. Bandages covered cuts I didn’t even remember getting.
Honestly, I felt like someone who had crawled their way out of a war zone. And maybe that was because, in so many ways, I did.
A quiet movement across the room pulled my attention away from my injuries.
Two figures walked into the room through the door not far from the bed, and the woman was the first to notice my eyes open.
Her face brightened immediately.
“Oh,” she breathed softly, standing up quickly. “You’re finally awake. You had us scared there for a while.”
Her voice was gentle and warm. She reminded me of Mum. Hard as nails when she needed to be, but if someone or something was injured, she was the sweetest, gentlest soul you’d ever find. I missed that tenderness.
It took me a minute to register that this was the same voice I had heard drifting through the darkness while I floated in that strange dream. It was the woman from the RV, I think.
The man beside her offered me a kind smile that almost felt unnatural on his naturally stern expression. He had a no-nonsense demeanour, and I liked it. Something about him felt familiar, though we’d never met. His presence felt similar to my father in an unusual way.
He was broad-shouldered and tall, though his posture at that moment carried a softness that didn’t feel threatening. His hair was streaked with gray, and deep lines framed the corners of his eyes. He looked like a man who had seen some darkness, but fought through it, if that made sense.
Both of them looked middle-aged.
They were kind and deeply concerned about me—someone they had never met before, yet in their presence I felt a profound sense of safety and comfort I hadn't experienced in a long time.
Recognition flickered in my mind as my mind flashed back to the night on the road when I crawled to freedom. The headlights of the RV, the hard and worried expressions.
This was indeed the couple from the RV.
My lips parted slightly to speak, but my throat felt dry and scratchy, like I hadn’t spoken in days.
“Water?” the woman said softly before I could even try to ask.
She moved quickly, pouring a glass and gently helping me sit up just enough to take a few careful sips. The water was cool and refreshing, easing the dryness in my throat.
“Easy, sweetheart,” she murmured when I tried to move more. “You’ve been through a lot.”
I leaned back against the pillows slowly. My body felt fragile, like glass that might crack if I moved too suddenly.
The man stepped closer to the bed.
His arms folded loosely across his chest, though his expression remained gentle.
For a few seconds, none of us spoke.
I studied them cautiously.
They didn’t look like people who wanted something from me.
Not like my father's business associates, or Arthur's when I was still allowed privileges in the beginning. They didn’t look like reporters sniffing around for a story.
They were just normal people. Kind strangers.
Finally, my voice came out, soft and hoarse.
“W-where a-are we?” I stuttered out. I wasn’t comfortable speaking out; it felt strange not to feel safe to ask questions, but this is what three years of conditioning did to you. It shrinks you within yourself.
The couple exchanged a glance.
The man answered first.
“Safe. We had a doctor friend, who has a small clinic, but don’t worry, no one knows you’re here.”
I blinked slowly, trying to process that.
“Safe?” I repeated faintly.
The woman nodded.
“We kept driving after we picked you up,” she explained gently. “You were in bad shape, and we didn’t want to risk anyone tracing you back right away. So we headed south while you were resting.”
The man rubbed the back of his neck slightly before continuing.
“We’re about three states over now.”
Three states.
My mind struggled to comprehend that distance. Suddenly, Arthur’s mansion—the terror, the tyranny—felt worlds away, as if possibilities had opened between the life I escaped and the trembling hope that maybe I might finally be free.
‘Safe.’ The calming voice inside my thoughts offered.
For the first time since waking up, something inside my chest loosened slightly.
I was so far away. Farther than he could easily reach. Farther than he would think to look, after all, I had no access to money or transportation. He had my legal identification locked away, my driver's license, my passport. All of it. He took it away and locked it up. Somewhere I will never reach. His office.
Silence lingered in the room again.
Then the questions piled up in my head, but I was afraid to ask anything more. I’d already spoken too much.
The woman pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down carefully.
“I’m Ellen,” she said softly.
She gestured toward the man beside her. “And that’s my husband, Frank.”
Frank gave me a small nod.
“What’s your name, dear?”
- Writer
