Awake - Book One of the Spinner's Curse

Chapter Twenty: A letter

       

Chapter Twenty:

A Letter

This thought brings me back to the present, to my cell, to reality. I release a breath of air, memories still swirling in my head. Why did Phillip have to ruin everything? My plan, although hastily conceived, was a good one. As a prisoner, I wasn’t allowed outside, and nothing from outside was allowed in…until today. A flash of Phillip’s face darts across my field of vision. I turn over and breathe in the dusty scent of my cot. It calms me, soothes away the doubts. I can’t go with Phillip. I can’t. I promised Ben I would do everything in my power to escape the curse, leaving would only ruin that…wouldn’t it?

I groan and knead my fists into my eyes. Something about the way Phillip spoke to me…the tone of his conviction whispers that he can keep me safe. What am I thinking? I did everything I could to avoid my curse. Philip cannot have found a way to end it when I couldn’t. Unless…hope strains at me, at the walls I’ve built against any alternatives to my predicament.

From the hall, I hear the sound of footsteps again. It is as if my moment of doubt has been a summons. I sit up and strain my ears to hear the noise. Again, two sets of footsteps. They are loud and confident against the stones. Their crisp clomping rises above the cries of the other prisoners. I drop my head just as I hear the sound of the keys jingling against the lock. The door swings open and this time the guard says nothing to me.

A single pair of boots makes their way towards me. They stop, only the mud-caked tips visible. He stands for a moment, watching me. I hold my breath to hear the sound of his. Finally, he moves and I'm able to suck in a greedy gulp of air. I feel the bed shift as he sits beside me. His weight tilts me towards him. My mind races before pausing on my true promise to Ben, on how I got him to agree with my risky plan. What should I say?

I tilt my head lower. I am completely incapable of speech. I risk a quick peek through my hair at him. Phillip is not sitting beside me. I stiffen and try to smother the cry that rises in my throat. Ryler. I cross my arms and pinch my skin, unable to believe the apparition sitting beside me. I came to terms with my involvement in Ryler's death, and yet here he is, sitting beside me. He looks nothing like the man I forced into running; nothing remains of the tortured soul from the Pig-man’s cell. The man sitting beside me is the one from my childhood, the strong, unnerving man with a knack for being imposing.

He knows I am watching. I can feel it. From a pocket in his vest, he pulls out a piece of paper. It is yellow with age and the edges are slightly torn. He sets it casually between us. My eyes glue themselves to the paper. It is more than that: it is an envelope, and along the front in tiny, faded ink are hearts and, very distinctly written across the top, is my name. Winston's letter.

Ryler takes his hand from the letter and stands, stretching. I can't stop my eyes from moving between him and the envelope. A small shadow of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth, but he turns from me. "I think a walk sounds wonderful." He moves towards the door, not even glancing back at me. He knocks gently against the wood and a guard's face appears through the window.

"Yes?" The guard’s voice is husky and deep, but I notice a certain amount of respect in it.

"I'll be going for a quick jaunt around this level. I'll only be gone a few moments, so please, remain outside the door until I return." The guard nods and opens the door. The oak slides across the floor with a slight moan of protest. It isn't used to opening and shutting this often-in one day.