She waves a hand in front of my face, the two lines between her brows deepening. The girl with milky white skin and flushed red cheeks.ĭo they make Silver and Kimberly’s dolls into real people who can move and drag things? The girl with golden blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes watching me with a frown. The girl who looks exactly like one of Silver and Kimberly’s dolls. Her little hands are dragging a heavy bag behind her, but I don’t focus on the sound or her bag. She drops the light on the floor and crouches in front of me. Since she’s wearing sleeping clothes, it must be night time again. She’s like the angel statue Mum has in our garden. A white halo surrounds her, complete with her white cotton dress and bunny shoes. With the light between us, a peaceful face comes into view. My breathing slows down a notch and my grip loosens from around the cuff. There’s no clicking of the red woman's high heels. I squint as the echo of footsteps comes closer. Soft light appears in the otherwise dark room, blinding me. If I don’t get out of this, the red woman will hurt me again. I know I’m just scraping my skin, but it’s all I can do. I grasp the cuff and pull with the little energy I have left. I jerk up and flinch when the hard stone wall cuts into my bruised back, but that’s the least of my worries. She becomes sad when I'm not with her, and I hate it when Mum is sad. If I don’t eat soon, I won't have the strength to open my eyes, let alone stand up and search for a way out. I don’t know how much time I’ve spent in this dark, dirty place, but it’s been long enough that my stomach has been growling non-stop for what feels like hours. It’s the only thing I’ve had since being separated from Xander and Cole.Īre they hungry as well? Were they also hurt by the red woman? I lick my dry, cracked lips and stare at the empty bottle of water at my feet. If anything, it turns louder and higher as if taunting me. I press my hand to it, but that doesn’t quiet the sound.
This place isn’t like any I’ve been in before. I don’t like it when Mum cries, but I want her to find me. My mother knows the day I’ll fall sick before I even wake up. She said we have a special mother-son bond, and she can feel my pain. “Mum…” I whisper in the pitch-black room. My teeth chatter and I bite my lip several times, trying to stop it. The ground smells like the stables at my father’s friend’s house. What seems like hours pass, and I still don’t have the energy to stand up, let alone take a closer look at my wound.
The red marks left by my ankle cuff have deepened to purple. The freezing floor sends icy bursts through my entire body, but I don’t have the energy to stand up. The shackle rattles and protests as I pull my legs to my chest. My mother’s voice drifts in my head like warmth in the middle of the cold.
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