The Charlotte Series: Book 1: The Pirate's Treasure

chapter 10

"What is the third rule?"

She realized her error and forced her mouth to work. She was grateful he hadn't demanded she look at him. She couldn't open her eyes against the brightness of the lantern.

"I will mind my place and hold my tongue." She croaked.

She hoped he wouldn't ask anything else. She wasn't sure she could speak again. Her quiet mumblings since she'd first awakened were hardly above a whisper and her mouth was so dry. Abruptly he turned and left. She was tossed to the floor. Pain throbbed through her. As she heard the bar slide into place and watched the light receding one thought filled her mind.

He was going to wish he had killed her before she was finished with him.

------------

She lost track of the time. She had no idea if she'd been locked up a day or a week. Although in reality she felt it must not be more than a day or two, else she'd be weak as a kitten from no water. She'd gone almost a week once without food but that was a long time ago. She turned her attention to thinking, since there was little else to do in this dark abyss save listen to the rats.

She knew the direction of the door. She also knew she was in no condition to attempt an escape but that didn't signify. She would sleep as much as possible and let her body mend. And she would be ready to escape. She would be ready when an opportunity presented itself to sink a knife into the heart of the demon who called himself Blakeney...and that moment would come.

Her thoughts seemed random. There was no outward influence to direct the ramblings of her mind. No clock to remind her of appointments or tasks and no people with which to converse. She was alone here with only her thoughts to know if she were awake in this absolute dark.

"I suppose," she thought whistfully, "that it is a very good thing I am not still frightened of the dark!"

At some point she wondered if she were truly awake, or if she were merely dreaming she were awake and trapped in this never-ending nightmare. She realized she was incorrect at first. There was a person to influence her thoughts...the demon Blakeney. And he did occupy her thoughts quite a lot during her waking moments.

She thought she might like to drop Blakeney into a deep well somewhere and leave him to rot. She imagined the look on his face as he watched her board up the well sealing him in the darkness of his tomb while he was still alive. Mr. Poe would be pleased with her rendition of his work.

She was repulsed when she first read Cask of Amontillado but now she understood how a person might begin to harbor such morbid thoughts. She wondered if she could ever act upon them and only knew that she could indeed kill the man if given the chance. Such were her thoughts when her hand touched a corner. She'd been sure she was headed straight for the door.

She sighed and followed the wall. It was very difficult to keep a straight line in complete absence of light. She tired quickly. She rose to her knees and kept a palm on the wall. She moved slower now and leaned against the wall. She felt so very tired. She wanted to just curl up and sleep. No! She needed to find the door and check the lock. She needed ...

Her fingers touched a hinge. At once a great weight lifted from her shoulders. She sank to her bottom and wept for the joy of it. She laughed that something as simple as a door would bring her such relief. In one moment the endlessness of this abyss was vanquished. She rose to her knees again and stretched, feeling with both hands for the dimensions of the door.

There were small spaces between the boards that ran the length of the door. There was no doorknob on this side, but there was a handle. She expected it to be locked but tugged anyway. She couldn't explain her disappointment when she found it locked from the outside. She sank to her bottom, trailing a palm on the door. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to break the connection.