One Broken Legacy

Chapter 30: Burial

I sat up in the darkness and my head hit stone. My breath caught as the faint sting of pain bloomed, and the scent of blood filled the space I found myself in—wherever that was.

When I kicked, my knees hit the ceiling, and there was very little room for my hips. Wherever this was, it was just big enough for a human to lay prone, rather uncomfortably.

I began to panic, and through the haze of fear, I forced out a few deep breaths. Based on the sting around my wrists, they had been tied with rope, but my ankles were free. I was clean and dry but completely alone.

Although my last moments of consciousness were blurry, I knew enough. Uncle was behind the attacks, or at least aware of the guilty party. He impulsed me and left me somewhere, probably to keep me out of the way. For the moment, it seemed he wanted me alive. For the moment.

How much time had passed? I didn't feel tired, but that didn't mean anything. Had the attack already happened? I had to warn everyone. They needed to know what was going on. Uncle would have them convinced they were safe, that Cypress was the guilty party. I had to protect her too. If he succeeded in his plan, I wouldn't be allowed to talk, and she would be used as the scapegoat.

I rubbed my palms against the stone. No, this was cement. Was I buried alive?

Gritting my teeth, I put every ounce of strength into a push. My heart leaped as the ceiling trembled. I pushed again. Another tremble. I needed more reach. That's why my hands were tied together, to prevent me from distributing my strength. With no way to brace my legs, I needed my hands to have any hope of getting out of here.

Uncle would have taken my phone, my pocketknife, anything I could have used to cut the rope. However, there was one thing he might have overlooked. From Cypress to my mother to me, the hair stick was still there, hidden dagger and all. Thank you, Cypress, for giving weird but useful gifts.

Unfortunately, the space was too tight for me to reach to the top of my head, but I was able to rub the bun on the floor until the knot came loose. After a few strategic wiggles, I managed to bring the stick into grabbing distance, and the few scrapes were worth the trade.

There was still a chance Uncle had removed the dagger, and I let go of a sigh when my fingers brushed across the blade. Twisting and contorting my hands, I tried to avoid slicing off a body part as I dragged the knife across the rope until it started to give way. A few minutes of sawing left my wrists bleeding, but I finally broke free.

With quivering arms, I braced a hand on each side of the ceiling, prayed I was indeed above ground and not about to bury myself in soil, and pushed.

The ceiling trembled a little but gave way just an inch. Another inch revealed a sliver of light and tall walls around me. Just the sight of something outside my prison was enough to make me cry, and my muscles felt rejuvenated. I could do this.

With a few more pushes, I was able to wiggle my leg through the gap and made short work of the barrier from there. With one last shake, it fell over the side and crashed with a loud bang.

I sat up, breathing in the fresh air of freedom before looking around. Four stone walls surrounded me, with a single door on the opposite end. Light trickled in from a window, shining right on me. There was something eerily familiar about the room, and with a sinking feeling, I looked down, confirming my suspicions.

The bastard had locked me in a frickin' crypt.

Although it was empty of bones, the thought of what or who might have been in it before made me want to gag. Apparently, it had been long enough that the only thing my stomach could hurl was air and a few drops of bile though.

I stepped out slowly, my legs buckling slightly as they came awake. There was no time to worry about what had happened. I needed to find a phone and make a call.