Humbling Spot Conlon (A Spot Conlon Love Story)

Ch. 29: Freedom At Last

A loud bang woke me from my sleep. I frantically scrambled up off the ground, trying to find the source. Then came another one. I froze, fearing what it could be. Perhaps Tattershall had upgraded her belt to a baseball bat and she was going around hitting things with it. That sure is what it sounded like. 

There was one more and with it came the sound of something small clanging on the floor. I then realized what had happened. Someone had opened the window. Then I heard footsteps. They were in the room with me. Now, the question was whether I would be thanking them or fighting for my life. 

I forced myself to turn around, hoping that whoever had opened it wasn't some creepy old guy. My heart was pounding in my chest and I braced myself for the worst. I was ready to run, or attack, which with my luck, I was certain I'd be doing. 

I could only see a silhouette, which was lit up from only the light of the moon. It was a familiar silhouette, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to adjust my eyes. 

The figure took a few steps towards me, not saying a word. The first thing I noticed as they got closer was the figure's ice blue eyes that practically glowed in the dark. 

Every ounce of strength in me disappeared when I realized who it was. My legs wouldn't move and no sound could escape out of my mouth. There he was with that stupid smile that I loved and his eyes that saw right through me. 

"Nicky?" 

His voice sold it for me. I was gonna get out of here. My eyes began to water as I moved nearer to him. When I was close enough I collapsed into his arms, letting tears pour down my face. 

When it seemed that I'd cried out any and all bodily fluids that were previously in my body, I released Spot. I took a deep breath, proceeding to punch him in the arm as hard as I could. 

"How dare you leave me in here as long as you did?" I shouted. Well, technically I only whispered. But if I weren't trying not to wake anyone it would've been loud enough to hear from across the world. 

He rubbed his arm. "Not even a hello?" 

"Fine," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Hello, Spot." He held his arms out, likely wanting a hug that didn't result in a sopping wet shirt. I happily wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close to me. I dug my face into the crook of his neck, feeling comfort in his touch. 

But then I felt a stinging sensation in my back. I suppose I wasn't well enough for the pressure to not send excruciating pain back into the bruises. I winced, pulling away. 

"What is it?" 

"Nothin'. It's fine. I'm fine," I attempted, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "You don't need ta worry 'bout me. What ya do need ta worry about is gettin' me outta here. That is why yer here, right?" 

"O' course." He climbed up onto the boxes under the window. "Ayo, Race, throw the rope down. Just one end this time." 

A rope snaked its way through the window and down to Spot, who gestured for me to join him on the box. Then a head peaked through the little window. "I only did that once, Spot. Wouldja please let it go?" 

As he yanked me up onto the box, Spot chuckled. "Not while I'm still livin' Racey." Spot looked me up and down, as if this was the first time he'd ever seen me. "Never thought I'd see you in a dress." 

"Neither did I." 

He gave the rope a small tug. "D'ya think you can climb in a dress? Or do I gotta have the boys haul ya up?" 

I scoffed. "I think I can manage, thank you very much." 

I could not, in fact, manage to climb up on my own. I could hardly even keep my grip. Not to mention that my feet would get caught in my dress every time I tried to adjust myself. I made zero progress upwards in my attempt.