OPEN NOVELLA CONTEST - LONG LISTED
Safety was never an option.
She has nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere safe to reside. No matter how far she runs or how quiet she hides, they always find her. She will never be free of her hunters. Theresa k...
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Rain pelts down relentlessly, screaming with the wind, changing its direction. Theresa is cold to the bone, clothes and hair slick to her skin. The cloth that hangs over the cage does nothing to stop the rain from coming in, not to mention the large holes it has all throughout. She's not sure if her buyers are dry; she isn't able to see them from this angle. Not that it matters. They'll be looking after themselves more than her, anyway.
Water drips on her face, running off from the cloth over head. At this point, she can't remember if she's cried, or is crying. The pool of water underneath her isn't any help in deciphering; but she knows she is miserable. Her body is still sore, catching up on eighteen years of running. But the pain in her head is worse, a constant throbbing that seems to grow worse and worse with each passing moment. The cart hasn't been kind to her either. It's been two days since she woke up from her injury, a sorely second time. Inside the cage, her body has been thrown about carelessly. Sure, she could fix her posture and make herself secure, but what's the point? Her plan of getting into the cage with no more injuries failed. Now, there is comfort in the pain.
The road that stretches out behind them is dark. Theresa can't tell if it's night or day because of the heavy rain, but nothing stops the cart from moving forward. She feels sorry for the creature that pulls. If she tries hard enough, her memories conjure a black horse covered in white spots. Though the spots could be from her beaten head and it may have been a donkey. Although she doesn't know how long she was out, it couldn't have been less than a day. Which means the animal hasn't stopped since they left. She wishes she could reach out and let it rest. But that's more than impossible. So much that there isn't even a word to describe how impossible it is.
The curse has gone quiet now, resting until it needs to strike. Theresa can feel it humming with quiet hesitation beneath her skin. This is a different kind of anxiety. Constant yet absolutely pointless. At least when she was free, she knew she could live. Now the reality settles in; there is no way out of this where she lives. Not at this point.
"Are we nearly there?"
Theresa's eyes shift from the bottom of the cage towards the direction of the voice. The humans directing the cart have blocked her vision, but that doesn't prohibit her hearing. Now that she thinks about it, they have barely talked for the past days. Nothing more than a mutter that makes little sense.
"We'll be approaching soon." The voice that speaks in low and rough; the man with the curse that sits still. Theresa doubts it's actually a curse. Or, if it is, it's not like hers. She doesn't know why, but it makes her skin itch with anxiety.
"How long will we stop for?"
The silence drags, and the other human does not ask again. For a moment, she wonders if the strange man whispered his answer to his companion. But then she hears a cough, deep in his chest. Is he ill? "Not long."
A strange, vague answer from a strange, vague man. Arthur was easier to read, easier to decipher and make sense of. His words revealed so much more than he thought he was saying. But this man, he speaks with more intention than most humans have. Or at least what she is aware of. It increases the uneasiness that stills her blood, making the curse more dangerous. If she knows her fear, control is somewhat closer than impossible. But this situation stimulates unknown terror; and that is far more dangerous.
