Black and Blue Ivy

Trapped!

I occupied myself all morning with my self-directed lessons. Putting my least favorite subjects, science and math, aside, I read the short story Young Goodman Brown by Nathaniel Hawthorne in my literature textbook and wrote the response paragraph. I enjoyed the story, actually, and for a short while, I was swept away by Goodman Brown learning that his seemingly pious neighbors were part of a witches' coven. It made me wonder what people hide behind their facades—people like the Robinsons.

After literature, I worked on my history lesson. I read a chapter on the Battle of Hastings and answered some questions. I was still avoiding the math and science textbooks, pushing them to the far corner of the card table, so they were out of view, and opened a book on European art. Like the Hawthorne story, I found myself lost in the pages of mostly religious artwork. As I gazed at the many beautiful depictions of madonnas and saints, I harkened back to my hazy memories of St. Vincent's. As harsh as that environment was, I wondered if my current situation was an improvement. I had enjoyed my outing with Bentley, and for a brief moment, I felt like I had made a connection with someone, but now—

My growling stomach and the slanted sunlight across the wall opposite my desk alerted me that it was getting late in the day.

Where the hell was Mrs. Roche with my lunch?

My chair made an ugly noise along the hardwood floor as I rose. Groaning, I stretched my arms over my head and then went to the window. The sun hung heavy in the sky. Just skimming the bare tree branches as it began its descent, its brightness burned through a haze of gray clouds, telling me it was late in the day.

Flushed with a rage bordering on tears, I marched across the room and down the stairs, treading carefully to not take a spill in the darkness.

They had no right to lock me in like this!

Gathering my strength, I jabbed my shoulder against the door. The lock held.

"Let me out!" I screamed, banging my knuckles against the wood, switching to my palms when my knuckles began to ache. Pressing my ear against the seam in the door, all I heard in the hallway was a deathly silence. My knees weakened as the tears of frustration and injustice rose in me like a rising tide. I resisted the urge to give in to my weakness, crumble in the stairwell like I were buried alive and accept my fate, and succumb to death, a hapless child abandoned and alone.

But aren't I abandoned and alone?

I would not give in. Forcing myself to my feet, I fumbled my way back up the stairs, memorizing each step by now. The window was my only escape. I crossed the attic floor, disturbing dust clouds on the way, and turned the rusted lock. I managed to open it a few inches, but I was determined. Wedging myself beneath the sash, I dug my penny loafers into the dusty floor for purchase and, groaning, gave it all I had. The window opened; a gust of cold wind blasted inside the room, scattering my school lessons like dry autumn leaves. Bathed in the cold air of reality, I lost my nerve about climbing onto the roof. What was I thinking? The slates were frosted in the frigid twilight. Falling and breaking my neck wouldn't solve anything.

Still, I had to find some escape. My gaze drifted desperately toward the stable, hoping Bentley was still there. I should have screamed for him earlier to let him know I was being held prisoner. My opportunity lost, I now contemplated my options. Either stay in my prison to starve or try to make my escape and risk death. My fingers gripped the edges of the window sill. I looked down at my wool pleated skirt and matching tights and my penny loafers with their slick soles and realized the utter folly of climbing out on the roof.

A sob of helpless resignation escaped my lips, parched with thirst. I had no choice but to wait and hope Gardenia would remember that I was here, that she had a legal duty as my guardian to care for me. I must be patient, I thought as I gripped the window sash and gave it a hard tug. After several attempts to pull down the sash, I realized with growing horror that, as I gathered happened in old houses sometimes, it was stuck. I shivered violently as a bitter wind blasted my face, mocking my efforts. Now, I could add being frozen to starvation and abandonment.