For someone so tiered, my mind was surprisingly awake. The midnight light streamed through my window, reminding me of the late hour. "Oh, god." I could feel my whole body aching, desperately begging me for sleep. Yet I wasn't going to stop. I had planned to finish packing, and that was exactly what I was going to do.
I pulled at the stubborn sip of my suitcase, and, thankfully, it closed with much ease. The ferry would leave around five, which would hopefully allow me to escape without Beatrice, or Arthur, noticing. I ran through what I needed in my mind; Paper, books, clothing; I had all I needed, yet I felt as though I had forgot something. I paced my bedroom, and assessed the now empty surroundings. My many shelves were cleared, and for once, were not riddled with books and odd little stones I had discovered by the River. The only object that remained was a photo. A single photo In which I had no longing or tribute to take. "It would only remind me of what I have already lost," I decided, placing it face down and rubbing the blurred figures in which remained. My heart, as if triggered by the image, fastened it's pace. God, I told myself. I am really going to do it. The wind blurred outside, and I felt somewhat frightened to leave the manor's wall unattended. Yet, this late in my freedom, I would not allow this feeling to take over.
