Poisoned Lips

17: Escape (pt1)

Freyja was bored.

The Royal Guards had tied her to a metal chair. The ropes were rough around her wrists and ankles. When she first came in, she was terrified. But sitting in his office listening to him talk about his burnt breakfast was soul-destroying.

“...and yes. Imagine the look on my cat’s face when I showed her my burnt bacon. Poor thing, she was terrified. I tried to taste the bacon, but skies it reminded me of—”

“Burnt flesh.”

“I was going to say like Rudolph’s brain this time,” said Felix, shrugging off his white jacket and rolling his white sleeves to his elbow. He leaned against his desk and crossed his arm, motioning for the guards to shut the door. “Fine, the next method.”

Freyja gulped. Her eyes darted to the desk; Knives, screwdrivers, needles, pins, all on the silver tray beside her. Her pearl, the eyedrop, and the prison layout were also there. 

“You took something from me—No, stole something from me.” He pushed himself from the desk. “When I entered my bathroom yesterday, I saw something. I saw a strand of brown curly hair on the floor. It was absurd. I knew you must have come in here after I left you. I checked through my closet, my cabinet. Everything. My supplies seemed intact. Ah, but one thing stood out, though.” 

What could she have missed?

“The copying ink that I just recently purchased was a quarter used. Then it came to me: You must have made a copy of the blueprint. So, I went to bed last night knowing what you stole. I let you feel happy. I let you think of the possibilities of escaping, of having a life.”

“Why didn’t you just arrest me as soon as you figured it out, then?” 

He shrugged. “I was tired. Do you mind telling me the guards who helped you break into my bathroom and my file cabinet?”

Freyja shook her head.

 Felix sighed, and his shoulders dropped. His eyes looked almost...pained. “We can avoid this. Just answer the question. Please.”

Freyja couldn’t tell him how she’d done it or who helped her. He’d find out that her cell was involved. He’d find the bombs, the knives, the extra fruits. And then, they’d all be killed. However, Freyja wasn’t going to let herself get tortured for them. She needed to find a way to get out of her ropes and leave this room. Alone or not, she’d escape this prison today.

A guard, who looked to be in his thirties, took a flat knife and sharpened it.  He ran his hands over the blade and kneeled to her level. Her eyes widened in fear. She tried to move her hands, her legs, but they were tightly secured.

"Where do I start, sir?"

"Such a shame. I was starting to enjoy seeing your face. Hm, the face. Start with the face."

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for a weapon, anything that could help her. But then, she realized something. She was the weapon.

Freyja took in a shaky breath and snapped her head up to Felix’s. “Coward.” 

“Excuse you?”

“Coward! Are you so pathetic that you can’t torture me yourself, Felix?”

“No, I just don’t want to get my white uniform dirty. Your blood doesn’t deserve to touch it.”

“Pathetic," mumbled Freyja. "No wonder King Osiah likes Rudolph.” 

His eyes darkened.

“Get out,” Felix said to the guards at the door and the one holding the knife. “Now! No matter the sounds you hear, do not come in.”