Wow. Chemo and exhaustion and the start of a story written. Thank you everyone who has kept reading. I wasn’t sure what to do for the last day. This isn’t the ending of the story, of course. More story is left to tell. Chemo goes through til October. Also in October my novel is published by Plum Tree Books!
In the meantime, I’ll post a few things here. I’ve enjoyed this month, but I’m glad it’s over.
Thank you again and again for being here.
Hannah peered under the door to make the hall was clear. She saw nothing but the tight weave of red carpet.
“Careful,” the old woman said, “They know how to lie in wait.”
But Hannah had gotten this far. She felt sure of herself. “We’ll be fine. They can’t know I’m in here.”
She opened the door.
The guard had her by the throat before she realized he was there. She grabbed his wrist. She kicked. He pinned her to the wall. He said nothing, and she couldn’t speak.
His stare frightened her more than his grip, and she slapped him to get him to speak if not to break his stare. She tried to kick him again, but a heavy feeling weighed down her legs. Moving was becoming more difficult while he stared. Her throat hurt. She looked away.
A strange gagging sound escaped from him. The noise pushed her fear further, but she risked a sideways glance. His face contorted. Suddenly, he let her go.
Hannah fell forward, and he fell alongside her. She screamed and pushed and kicked. He offered no resistance. It took a few more kicks for her to realize he wasn’t moving at all.
“What…” Hannah gulped for a breath.
The old woman stood there next to the body of the guard. “What happened?” Hannah asked her. Her eyes refocused.
The old woman held her knife. Specks of blood dotted her hand. She looked down at Hannah and her voice was calm “You mustn’t let them touch you because you can never fight back.”
Hannah slowly looked back at the guard. A stain grew in the carpet underneath his body. “You killed him?” she asked.
“I saved you,” she replied. The old woman reached out a hand to help Hannah back to her feet. “You’re in deep now, child. I hope you can run.”