Some days it felt as if all she did was run. From dawn to dusk, even into the night, there was no true hour of respite where she hadn’t been snatched from sleep or task and plunged into one of his ‘lessons,’ his sick torture. He lorded his power over her, holding captive the last thing precious to her, her baby sister Leena and with their parents already passed it was Siora’s responsibility to keep her safe. Yet with Bastien, promises were never straightforward, and as long as she saw her sister around the estate accosted, Siora’s remained his toy.
Eyes pinched closed as he spoke, knowing every word was true, but it still stung knowing there was not a hint of mercy in him. Cruel, calculating and cold, he had an agenda, a plan for the estate, perhaps even beyond it and she was to be some part of it. Her head shook frantically, not wishing to be pushed in her feet inching back a step from the edge as the rapids shifted the broken mishmash of bridge and stepping stones. Above the sound of fast water, the howl of hounds became clearer, setting Siora into a mild panic.
His words didn’t quite register, not at first. She searched, in vain, for another way, glancing at the water in pure terror before deciding.
Drowning was better than hounds.
Sucking in a breath and pinching her eyes tight, Siora took the leap as a run, hitting the water and disappearing. Her head would pop up some short way downstream, arms flailing wildly in a vain attempt to keep her head above.
But she’d been running for hours already, her flagging reserves strained to give her the strength… and then for the briefest moment the thought of giving up crossed her mind. Leena. Think about Leena. It could be her and not you. The words rang in her mind, urging her on despite her limit fast approaching.
She was swallowing more water, struggling, panicking. Siora didn’t want to die. If she was going to die… it would be in taking him with her. To spare anyone else this hell.
Eyes pinched closed as he spoke, knowing every word was true, but it still stung knowing there was not a hint of mercy in him. Cruel, calculating and cold, he had an agenda, a plan for the estate, perhaps even beyond it and she was to be some part of it. Her head shook frantically, not wishing to be pushed in her feet inching back a step from the edge as the rapids shifted the broken mishmash of bridge and stepping stones. Above the sound of fast water, the howl of hounds became clearer, setting Siora into a mild panic.
His words didn’t quite register, not at first. She searched, in vain, for another way, glancing at the water in pure terror before deciding.
Drowning was better than hounds.
Sucking in a breath and pinching her eyes tight, Siora took the leap as a run, hitting the water and disappearing. Her head would pop up some short way downstream, arms flailing wildly in a vain attempt to keep her head above.
But she’d been running for hours already, her flagging reserves strained to give her the strength… and then for the briefest moment the thought of giving up crossed her mind. Leena. Think about Leena. It could be her and not you. The words rang in her mind, urging her on despite her limit fast approaching.
She was swallowing more water, struggling, panicking. Siora didn’t want to die. If she was going to die… it would be in taking him with her. To spare anyone else this hell.
02-24-2024, 03:28 PM
