Eliza's Shadow (16 page)

“Move, witch, and I kill ye.” He muttered smugly.
I remained still, seething.

The second chain dropped, banging against the wall
with a clatter. I clenched my fists tight savoring the sense of freedom and
resisted the urge to pummel the burly man. He seized my arm and to marched
toward the door. Frantically, I shot a compassionate gaze into the shadows
where little Benjamin hid hoping that somehow he would understand that I would
not abandon him.

Oddly, though the appearance of little Benjamin
complicated my escape, the need to protect another person bolstered my courage.
Anger at my stinking captor and anger at the idea of imprisoning a starving
child welled in the pit of my stomach. My blood bubbled hot through my limbs.

We exited the cell into a narrow hall. The only
light illuminating the path shone through scant glassless windows. The ceiling
was low, nearly too low for the large man to stand upright. We passed door
after door of the same crude design bolted firmly closed with thick metal
latches. I mentally tallied the number of doors we passed so that I could remember
which cell held Benjamin when I returned to save him. Moans and pleas seeped
beneath the cracks of the doors as the prisoners heard us pass.

A flickering light came into view as we rounded a
corner in the narrow hall. At the end of the hall, the man pulled me up a short
stairwell and we entered a long room lit entirely with blazing torches attached
to the walls. The heat and smoke emitted from the torches created a stifling
environment. Gazing around the room, the anger fueled courage rattling in my limbs
drained to my feet.

Devices I’d only seen in history books furnished
the room like the devil’s parlor. The flickering light from the torches
illuminated the slick stone floor revealing dark pools and stains beneath each
device. I jumped as a train of rats scuttled boldly along the wall near my
feet.

Silently, the man hauled me down the middle of the
long room. We passed what I recognized immediately from grotesque sketches in
books as the torture device called The Rack. I shivered noticing fluid dripping
from something that looked like a metal coffin sitting upright against a wall.

The necessity to rely on instinct when mastering
this lesson became clear. Instinct was all I had left. In an effort to preserve
my sanity I felt doors in my mind slamming one by one, shutting out all that I
could not bear.

Then we stopped. The hand gripping me released and
I saw a wooden chair suspended high in the air by a frayed rope. Beneath the
chair the stone rim of a well, just wide enough to accommodate a chair, held
black water. The frenetic light of the torch on the wall flailed along the
water’s surface as if condemned to sink.

11

“Eliza. Eliza? How are you
feeling today? It’s almost 8 o’clock. Do you think you can make it to school or
should I make a call?”

Suspended in a bog of exhaustion, I lay motionless
and silent. Then I felt Jane’s warm hand stroke my arm. I was home, in my bed.
The familiar chatter of NPR morning programming drifted into my room.

“Today is Monday, November 2nd.” The show host
announced before launching into the morning news.

Monday… Monday? I jolted awake with a spasm like
falling in a dream. My neck was stiff and it hurt to turn my head toward Jane.
The morning light assaulted my pupils as I squinted into her face.

“Mmm, you still don’t look good, babe. I’m going
to call the school.” Jane concluded and laid a palm soothingly against my
forehead.

“I’ll bring you some tea. Just rest, ok?” She said
softly before patting out of the room.

How am I going to explain this? I cringed. Though,
what was there to explain when I myself was oblivious to my whereabouts and
condition over the last 32 odd hours? I thought with chagrin. I eased myself
carefully onto my elbows then scooted back against the headboard. As I lifted
my hands to massage the ache from my eyeballs, the sleeves of my long t-shirt
slid exposing my wrists. Identical cuffs of green and blue bruises accented by
thin red lacerations jogged my memory.

Quickly concealing my injuries, I recounted the
incident in my mind. The memory of the stone cell, little Benjamin, my hideous
captor and the torture chamber sprang to mind easily in vivid detail but
abruptly halted at the site of the hanging chair. I gazed down at my body, clad
in pajamas then scanned the room. The clothes I’d worn on Saturday lay in a
heap before my dresser. Spying the primer on my nightstand, my heart shuddered.

I wondered if Jane had dressed me. If she had,
then she’d certainly seen my wrists. However, from the look of the heap of
clothes on the floor, it appeared more likely that I had dressed myself.

Feeling like a detective with a handful of
insignificant clues, I mulled over the critical questions. How did I escape?
What happened to Sunday? What did Jane know?

Jane’s footsteps in the hall drew my attention.
She entered with a pitying smile on her face and a steaming mug of tea cradled
in her hands.

“You’re up. Well, I’ve already called the school
and they know not to expect you. You’ll just have to relax if nothing more than
for my sake today.” She cautioned maternally.

Unsure of how to draw out her knowledge I smiled
weakly and accepted the tea.

“Thanks.” My voice cracked.

“Hopefully, it’s just a twenty-four hour bug.”
Jane said offhandedly.

Inspecting my face she reached over and smoothed
my hair with her fingers.

“You scared me yesterday rolling around in bed,
mumbling that you were ‘Sick, just sick.’ If you hadn’t settled down last
night, you probably would have woken in a hospital bed.” She sighed with
obvious relief.

Jane appeared exhausted. I realized she must have
been up keeping an eye on me all night. As if deciding she’d distracted me
enough from the task of recovery, she rose slowly and stretched.

“Tea then rest, ok? Now that I know you’re feeling
better I’m going to put a call into the restaurant to tell them they’ll have to
manage without me this morning. Then I’m going to take a nap.” She said with an
indulgent smile.

Sick, just sick. Well, that sounded like the kind of
ingenious thing my subconscious would conjure to cover my tracks. That at least
explained what happened to Sunday.

I glanced irritably at the primer on my
nightstand. My fingers stretched out for it, drawn by a sick sense of
curiosity. Then thinking better of it, they hovered trembling for a moment
before I forced them to snatch the blinking cell phone instead, my eyes never
leaving the cover of the book.

One thing was certain, the lesson had not been
mastered and sooner or later it would resume. I inhaled roughly, suffocated by
the thought of returning to that horrible place, then slid further across the
bed from the nightstand, distancing myself from the primer. For now, it would
wait.

The phone lay on my lap but I couldn’t bring
myself to make the call. Ren would surely be wondering what happened to me. Or
would he? The searing itch of my wrist wounds bated my anger. How could he have
thrown me to the wolves so unprepared?

I opened the phone and noticed a scrolling list of
missed messages from Ren, Bryn and Pete. I typed a short text message to Bryn
and Pete informing them of my illness. Smugly, I decided Ren could wait.

Leaning back on the pillows, I gingerly sipped the
tea. The traumatic details of my adventure played in my mind’s eye like a
horror movie. As hard as I tried to remain angry with Ren and fantasized about
revenge, the overwhelming sense of abandonment and deceit prevailed. I had
opened up to him, trusted him and I thought he trusted me too… with the truth.
But I’d been wrong. He’d let me walk into danger unprepared and I felt
betrayed.

In tangent with my shattered trust in Ren, the
realization of pervasive danger in my life stained my soul. Even if Ren had not
intended to hurt me, turning me loose with the primer was no less dire than a
mama bird pushing her chick out of the nest. Now fly or be eaten by the fox on
the ground.

My limbs ached and a wave of exhaustion washed
over me. Too tired to fret about the situation further, I closed my eyes and
allowed sleep to pull me under.

The morning evaporated leaving afternoon, which
slipped easily into night. In a state of sheer exhaustion, I dimly acknowledged
the light that rose and descended outside my window. Jane delivered food and
drinks at regular intervals and monitored my state, apparently satisfied that I
was recovering. I spoke to her more freely after realizing she was oblivious to
the strange events of my secret life. When the light finally disappeared, I
drifted into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke again to morning light peeking through
my bedroom curtains, I felt dazed but stronger. Hunger pains stung my stomach
like angry jellyfish. I stretched my stiff limbs and crept toward the kitchen
to start the day.

After managing to stomach a few pieces of toast
with jam and some weak tea, I assured Jane that school would be possible and
set about readying myself for the day ahead. Though I was certainly well enough
to resume my normal activities, I was suspended in a state of doom. There was
just no telling what lay ahead of me.

12

The cicada hum crawled
along my limbs causing me to twitch with anger. I planted my eyes firmly on the
window and watched the bare branches of an oak tree flap stiffly in the wind.
During the walk to school, the crisp fall breeze fanned the candle of anger
burning in my heart transforming it into a raging fire. By the time I arrived,
I felt like a percolating kettle about to blow.

It seemed unfathomable that there was a fair
justification for Ren’s actions. No matter what perspective I assumed my
conclusion was always the same. He had not prepared me properly for my lesson
and as a result I’d escaped torture, possibly worse, by the skin of my teeth.

As the electrical pulse grew stronger I pushed the
anger out of myself in an attempt to send a primordial warning, if such a thing
was possible. Real or imagined I felt his eyes boring holes in the back of my
head. The image of Ren’s face flashed in my mind. Digging my fingernails
against the edge of the notebook on my desk, I screwed my eyes shut and pushed
him away.

The hum slowly stabilized. He sensed that
something was wrong. Yeah, something is wrong very, very wrong. I thought
bitterly. Though I sat under fluorescent lights on a tile floor, my mind was
still trapped in a dirty stone prison. My fingers curled against my palms and I
beat the desktop softly imagining the stone all around me.

“Eliza? Hey, are you ok?” Bryn slid into the desk
next to me. I felt her curious eyes inspecting every inch of me.

“Not really. I’m still not feeling very well.” I
muttered, avoiding her probing gaze. I hoped she wouldn’t ask for too many
details about the illness that sidelined me the day before.

“When you didn’t call me back this weekend, I just
thought you were wrapped up with Ren or something but Eliza, you really look
terrible.” Her fair brows drew together, and she leaned closer to my side. I
sensed the flutter of her fingertips on my forearm.

The kindness of Bryn suddenly cracked my façade. Tears
sprang to my eyes and I blinked madly in an attempt to beat them back.

“It’s just been a tough couple of days.” I
whimpered wiping the tears from my eyes. I peered sideways into Bryn’s
concerned eyes and forced a small smile.

“Thank you.” I reached for her hand and squeezed
it lightly.

The edge of the greenish bruise on my wrist
unexpectedly slipped into view beneath my shirtsleeve. Bryn’s sharp eyes caught
sight of it and turned to slits.

“The nerve.” She spat angrily. Quickly reviewing
my disheveled appearance again, she tallied the facts in her mind, and sprang
into action. Before I could stop her, she was viciously stomping across the
room toward Ren.

My mouth dropped open to protest but no words came
out. I watched numbly as Bryn began ripping mercilessly into Ren’s character
before the half filled homeroom.

“You idiotic monster! Did you think no one would
find out? You made a big
huge
mistake there, mister. I don’t know who you think you are
but….” The lashing continued as more students filed into the room silently
amazed by the ruckus.

Ren’s eyes grew wide and his cheeks flushed as he
silently withstood the verbal assault. He shot a pleading gaze across the room
but was intercepted by Bryn’s keen perception.

“Don’t you even dare look at her, you jerk!” She
ranted.

I didn’t feel guilty for Bryn’s misinterpretation
of the marks on my wrist. As far as I was concerned, Ren was partially to
blame. The words she threw at him inadvertently relieved some of the anger pent
in my chest. However, as it was nearly time for class to begin, I didn’t want
Mrs. Hildebrand to witness the tirade for that would certainly escalate the
issue. So, I briefly rubbed my eyes and temples to clear the haze before
intervening. My actions and words would have to be firm in order to break the
cycle Bryn had begun.

I stood confidently in the direction of the
ruckus.

“Bryn, that’s enough. Let’s talk about this
later.” I said calmly but loud enough for my voice to carry across the room and
cut through her shouting.

She turned sharply around and shot an exasperated
look at me.