Spellbound

The Escape

The night air is frozen. It blows through the gaping hole where our door once stood. My father's lifeless body, still cradled in my arms. He's gone. Forever.

He will never see me graduate, or walk me down the aisle. He will never be able to give me any more advice, or suggest new books to read. The man whose shoulders I once sat upon, and truly believed I was on top of the world—is gone.

I know I've been lying here for a while now. I can't say exactly how long, because time is no longer relevant. It's still the early hours because the sun hasn't risen, even though I'm not sure it ever will again.

I need to get up—do something. But I don't know how.

"Philly—"

For one awful moment, I look to my father. Hoping beyond all hope that simple word had come from his mouth. Yet, he lay still, and my heart breaks all over again.

I turn to see Millicent, hunched over an arm chair, struggling for breath and bend down to my father, for what I know will be the last time ever.

"I love you." I tell him, leaving one last kiss on his forehead. I linger slightly longer than I should taking in his face, and remove my robe to drape it over him. I'll never see him again.

I wipe stray tears from my face, pulling myself away from him and run to Millicent.

"Here." I say, wrapping my arm around her waist to help her into the chair.

I grab a small cloth from the side table, and hold it to stop the bleeding from her head.

"They'll be back," she tells me through shallow breaths, "You have to go—to Pagus."

"Who are they?"

I hold pressure to her wound, but she doesn't respond. Her eyes are glassy and I can tell she is weak. Every second that passes, drains her a little more. And then, for a second, I see her eyes grow dark and I hear it. A creak, ever so slight, from the floorboards above. Ice runs through my veins.

Millicent doesn't move. Her breath grows weaker, as she sinks further into the chair. I drape a blanket over her, in a vain attempt to conceal her. I'm on my own.

Quietly, I move towards the kitchen. My heart hammers against my chest, and I can barely hear my own thoughts, but I can't stop. I won't. I open the closest drawer to me, and pull out the biggest knife. I know it's most likely useless against—whatever they are, but it's all I've got. The footsteps begin to descend from the staircase and I clutch the knife tightly in my bloodstained hands—my father's blood. Millicent's blood. Maybe even some of my own.

Without warning, a cold hand wraps around my body, and covers my mouth. I freeze.

"Shhh," she says, holding up a finger in front of her mouth. She's young. My age maybe. Her blonde hair is styled in two buns, and she stares at me with intense violet eyes.

"We have to go," she whispers, searching around the room frantically.

I pull her hand off my mouth and wield the knife in front of me like a shield.

"Who are you?!" I demand.

She takes a deep breath, staring between me and the knife.

"Tell me!"

The anger in my words is enough to make her jump, "I'm Serena!" She tells me through frightened breaths, "And if I don't get you out of here now, we're both going to die!"

The pain in my chest swells. Everything goes numb and the ghost of my tears sting my swollen cheeks. I catch a glimpse of my father's lifeless body in the corner of my eyes—Serena takes my arm, and the knife falls from fingertips to the floor betweens us, echoing throughout the house.