Alone

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I don't know how long I've been in this van, minutes, hours, days? Ok, not days, that ridiculous, but I've been here a while, Feeling the occasional pulls, and pushes from turns, and stops. How far are they taking me? I'm probably not even in New York State anymore. I sigh. I can't feel my bottom anymore, I've been too still, too long. They stop, is this it? Or are we just getting gas or something? Maybe the more important question is, how is Dad gonna find me. Would he risk even escaping without me?

The door opens, this is probably it. An agent undos my restraints and picks me up. He takes me through many halls and door before tossing me into a cell, the rough ground scraping my cheek and arm.

I push myself to a sitting position as he locks the door. My handcuffs click. I look down to see they've unlocked. Taking them off I glance around the room, the concrete walls chipping away from age, the only light is the hall lights coming through the barred door, and a small seat like thing, which I assume to be a toilet. I push myself to the closest wall and breath in the musty air. Hugging myself I feel a slight draft hugging my arms. How long will I be here?

I sigh and push myself onto the floor, the pebbles digging into my skin a little. My cheek and arm start to sting, reminding me of the rugburns I got as a child. I close my eyes and try to rest, but the draft keep chilling the little I warm, I roll over to face away from it and tuck my arm into each other. Is this what it's usually like for Dad? I feel a pang in my heart. I had no idea, it's probably often...worse.

I'm scared, Dad would be so disappointed, how can I be so weak? He can never know...

Elizabeth I:The Captian's DaughterWhere stories live. Discover now