Journey of a Girl

Journey of a Girl: Chapter Two

Credence looked at the room, desperate to find a weapon.

There was a mattress on a chipped wooden frame, with an old, thin sheet and a lumpy pillow. A rag and clay pitcher sat on a stool beside the bed, but the water inside the pitcher rested under a cover of dust, and had obviously been sitting in neglect.

There was no window for her to climb through to escape, so Credence's only way out was through the door—and the rodent-faced man on the other side.

She felt queasy, like she'd eaten spoiled food.

She didn't dare open the door to spy on the man, fearing he might try to press his way inside the second she unlocked it. Instead, she grabbed the pitcher and poured some of its contents under the gap at the bottom of the door. The water flowed into the hall, and Credence heard the man give a sharp gasp as his feet were dampened. He mumbled under his breath and the soft squish of his wet shoes signaled his movement away from her room.

Credence had a moment to breathe, but it was a hollow one. She needed to get away, but could not be sure if the man actually left the hallway, or if he was waiting a few feet away, ready to strike. Remembering a trick she often used to tease her brother, Credence took the stool and wedged it under the doorknob. Now the man would have to work twice as hard to kick down the door.

But with enough effort he could get in, and what Credence would do if he broke through would be entirely reliant on her instinct in the moment.

To ease her mind, she dipped the rag into the pitcher to clean herself, but her eyes remained on the door, watching for any sign that the man had returned.

When she twisted the rag to wring it, the water that poured into the pitcher was red.

Blood.

Was it hers or Ajo's?

She sat on the bed and pulled at the golden chain around her ankle, desperate to break it, but it wouldn't relent under any amount of pressure.

A symbol that I belong to—

"Be quiet," she hissed and ceased her attempt to remove the jewelry.

A flicker of light danced on a lump of wax melted into the bedpost, the product of several candles fused together over many months. Credence conjured fire to grow the flame, and watched the shadows it created writhe across the floor and walls and ceiling.

She forced herself to think about the life she would have once she was free of the trees.

What waited on the other side?

Was there another place like the towns, just as wretched, that she needed to avoid?

Was there another kind of land, an ocean or endless hills of sand, like those she'd heard about in bedtime stories?

The world is mine to explore, she mused to herself. The world is mine...

***

Long into the night, the doorknob to her room jiggled.

The noise did not wake Credence immediately, but then the doorknob began to rattle violently, and someone on the other side pushed against the door, causing the stool against it to crack. When the wood gave a loud creak and groan, Credence opened her eyes, unaware she had closed them, and sat up in bed. Quickly roused to attention, she glanced at the doorknob, which had gone still, and tried to assure herself she hadn't heard anything. The lump of wax was still burning, but the hours had dimmed it considerably, and Credence had to squint to see clearly.