salvation - f.weasley

Running away and its consequences

This chapter contains mention of physical and psychological violence and abuse. 

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time moves slow - samuel T. herring

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The train was the only way to escape. This is how Grace finds herself in a single line carriage which takes her to a town further up the country, from where she can reach Devon.

The journey lasts hours, lulled by the metallic clicking of the rails under the weight of the wagons. She feels her eyes heavy but jumps at each jolt of the train.

She is sitting in a carriage alone, hoping that no agent would ask her for her ticket, because she doesn't have one. Her backpack clutches against her, she can't stop a feeling of freedom from making her heart beat.

When she arrives at the small station, night has already fallen. Grace is plunged into darkness, only an oil lamp in poor condition lighting the only platform of the station.

Grace takes a few steps and follows a winding path that appears to be the only road in the village. There are no other trains until tomorrow morning. She sees in the distance what looks like an inn. She figures that will do for the night.

It is a small building made of grey stone with dirty windows. The sign hangs dangerously, worn by the weather. Grace takes a deep breath then pushes the door open. A bell rings.

Inside, the air is heavy with dust and humidity. A flickering fireplace lights the barely filled common room.

An old woman snores in an armchair at the back, while a few men with tired faces drink in silence, their threadbare capes thrown on wooden chairs.

The smell of old leather, tobacco and stale beer hang in the air. Grace obviously has nothing to do in this establishment but that doesn't bother her in the least. She's not home anymore, and that's what matters.

The manager, a stocky, tired-looking man, slowly raises his head from behind the counter when he sees Grace enter. He narrows his eyes, eyeing her suspiciously, confirming that she doesn't belong here.

Grace approaches slowly while the other customers look at her. She meets the eyes of an elderly man who smiles at her greedily, revealing three pitiful teeth hanging from his gums, and Grace wonders how they are still holding on.

She suppresses a shudder of disgust and turns to the owner. "Evening. I would like a room, please."

Grace throws a few pounds found in her father's coat pocket onto the counter just before running away.

The keeper walks forward slowly and inspects the rooms. "I'm afraid that's not enough, dear. And this is no place for ladies like you."

His voice is gravelly, worn by the years. "That's all I have. I just want to sleep."

He looks at her again, swinging his cloth over his shoulder . "You look awful, dear." He sighs. "Come on, I'll see what I have left."

Grace rolls her eyes and ignores his comment before following him down a winding hallway that doesn't inspire anything good.

He leads her to a small bedroom upstairs, the walls are so thin you can hear the wind whistling through the cracks. The bed creaks under the slightest movement, and a simple oil lamp casts a flickering light in the room. The room smells musty and stagnant humidity.

Grace swallows and sets down her backpack.

"Not much but the mattress is not bad, despite appearances. Breakfast tomorrow at 7."