Eadlyn Selects

I'm Here

First I throw the metal box down. Hefting it over to the edge of the loft is challenging but the sound it makes when it hits the rotted wood floor is delicious to my ears. Finally, I feel like I have some control over my fate. And yes, hurting Hale in any way is an evil dream come true.

Once the dust settles and I stop cowering that the noise will bring someone to investigate, I lie on my stomach and peer over the edge.

Yes! The box has busted open. Pens, papers, pictures, and a sheathed knife are amongst the rubble.

Okay, now I just have to join it.

I scoot over one mattress at a time and shove them over the side. I try to do it artfully so they land in some semblance of an overlapping cushion for my jump of faith.

It's easier said than done. The first one slides under the loft to a place I can't see, probably the pulpit. The next try is better, but it lands half on the box, which would make for a painful landing. The next two layer perfectly over the flat. Finally, the last one lands upright, and then plonks down on the pile.

I sit cross legged and close my eyes, visualizing the feat I must perform. I need to lower myself and then drop.

After some relaxing breaths, I am ready. One last look around the loft for anything I can use. I find a blanket, a sheet, and the stub of a candle to shove over the edge. The only thing left is me.

My back is slick with seepage from my infected wounds but I persevere. This is my chance. And the vision of Kile in my mind is vivid and inspiring. He didn't want to let me go. He wanted to come with me, even as a prisoner. Okay. I can do this.

I lie on my belly and scoot my legs over the edge until they dangle freely.

My fingers try to get traction but it's only dry, bare floor to hold.

"One."

"Two."

"Three." I let go.

My body swings under the loft. No! I'll fall on the steps and Hale will return to find a crippled, defeated captive.

I try to overcorrect while in air.

My arms flail.

My feet fly up, level with my waist.

I hit the ground. First my tailbone hits the bare floor. My ankles smack next and then my back blessedly hits the mattresses squarely, and my head is last to land.

Shock reverberates through my system. The world goes black for I don't know how long.

My own breathing sounds loud and raspy as I come to. The room swims but I can take inventory of my damage.

My lower back is numb.

My ankles ache and seem swollen already. My nails are cracked and bleeding from trying to hold the seams of the floor.

My neck is the worst. I can't move it without pain stabbing down my spine.

I can't stand until I can feel my entire body, so I gather the papers and pictures within arm's reach and give them a quick look to see if anything can help me. Many of the pictures are of a bunch of kids posed in front of various things: a cart, a building, a stream, in a field. I swear one looks like Jayel. I can't tell if one of the boys is Hale, but I assume so. They all are miniature versions of him with swooping hair and broad shoulders. It must have been before he acquired his evil sneer, because they all wear impish grins.

I manage to flip to my hands and knees and crawl a foot. Then I have to rest. Holding my head up is killing my neck. I want to lie still and somehow black out the pain. I can't. I can sense my entire system weakening from infection. Since the landing, I have bled through my bandages and shirt. The blood is not a fresh cleansing flow, but an oozing black substance that smells of death.