Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was no surprise that Alison had little sleep that night. Just as it was no surprise that she was awake well before the sun rose.
She lay in bed as she watched it slowly peak above the horizon, its white light cold and menacing.
There was no hint of a storm lurking in the sky, but she felt as if there was one hovering above her.
She could feel it threatening to break and wreak havoc with her mood as if it had a personal vendetta against her happiness.
And sadly, I doubt the storm will leave me anytime soon. Likely, it will drown me before I find any sense of reprieve. In fact, I want it to come and take me, so I might be done with feeling this way.
The only happiness that Alison could find was Pickle, who sniffed at her face, licked her nose, and yapped playfully as if it was trying to uplift her.
“Not now, Pickle…” She rolled over and pushed the dog away, but it refused to back down. “What do you want?” she moaned, starting to understand why her family so often became frustrated with the little dog.
It wanted to go outside, of course, a chance to stretch its feet and cock its leg over a bush so it might mark its territory for the morning. Unable to sleep, not wanting to, Alison relented and climbed from bed, slipped a winter coat over her shoulders, and crept gingerly through the silent manor.
When she reached the front of the manor, she was struck by the cold of morning, electing to stay near the front door. Putting Pickle down, she watched it scamper ahead and dive into the snow and then vanish behind some hedges.
Once, Alison loved watching Pickle play. Now, she could not even pretend to smile. Her chest ached, her stomach turned, and it was all she could do to not turn her head and gaze upon the neighboring estate as if she might spot Daniel a final time.
He was set to leave today, and Alison’s feelings were mixed.
She knew it was for the best, as he had denied her, and his being gone from her was the only way that she would heal.
And yet, there was something about the previous evening that still niggled at her.
She had gone to him, confessed her love, and been turned away.
But had he told her that he did not love her in return?
He must have done. Surely, he told me that he does not love me as I do him? What other reason could he have for not wanting to be with me…
Alison tried to remember his exact words, but they were a cloud in a storm. She scrunched her face, willing the memory forward, needing to hear the words again so she would know them to be true. It was the only way she could think of putting it behind her once and for all.
That was when she heard Pickle yelp.
Her head snapped up, and she looked ahead to where Pickle had disappeared behind a copse of trees. “Pickle?” she called. “Pickle, come on! Time to go inside!”
There was no answer.
“Pickle!” she groaned and then stomped down the steps and onto the drive, through the snow and toward the row of trees. “Pickle!” He did this sometimes, playing with her and, today of all days, she was just not in the mood. “Pickle!”
She rounded the trees and gasped at what she saw.
Pickle was on its side, out cold as if it had collapsed.
“Pickle!” She swept toward the dog, only for a set of hands to suddenly wrap around her waist and her pull her back.
“No, you don’t!” a gravely voice said. “Easy there.”
“What?” She tried to squirm free. “No!”
“Still has fight in her…” Stepping out from behind a tree was a short man with a broken nose and a look in his eyes that made Alison’s blood turn cold. The burglar who had broken into her house. “I like me some fight.”
“You!” Alison tried to struggle free of his grasp, but the arms that were around her waist were too powerful. “Let me go!”
“Hobbs, will ya give me a hand!” the man who was holding her groaned. “I don’t want a knee in the stones like last time.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The short man, Hobbs, trudged toward her and, as he did, rubbed his hands together greedily. “What’s the matter?” he sneered. “No one here to help ya this time? Not so brave when you’re on ya own, are ya?”
It was no use pretending to be brave. There was no point trying to scare the men away. Alison was alone out there, as she was in this world, and she knew that this time there would be nobody coming to save her.
“Please,” she whimpered. “You don’t… you do not need to do this.”
“That’s where ya wrong.” Hobbs stroked her face, and she recoiled in disgust. “That I enjoy it so much, well…” He shrugged. “That’s just a bonus.” He then spat on the ground. “Pike, get her into the cart. Quick smart.”
“You gonna help?”
“Do it yourself.”
“She’s heavier than she looks!”
“I said do it!”
Alison kicked and screamed. She struck out with her hands and flung her body around the best she could.
She did anything that she could think about to free herself, but it was no good.
The two men had her and they laughed gaily as they carried her from the estate to a cart that sat waiting on the road.
“Please,” she begged a final time as they tossed her into the back and climbed onto the driver’s seat. “My father… we have money. He will pay.”
“That’s where ya wrong,” Hobbs said as he took the reins and flicked them, sending the horses into a canter. “He don’t have no money. Why do you think we’re here?”
The horses picked up speed and Alison tumbled back. As she did, she managed a final glance back toward her estate… shifting her gaze then to Daniel’s home. If anyone could save her, it was him. A shame that he would be long gone before he found out.
“Oi!!” Hobbs screamed from the front. “Off the road!”
Alison spun about just in time to see what looked like a young boy diving from the road as the horses charged on ahead, missing him by inches. And her eyes widened when that same boy whipped his head around in time to see her.
It was Tommy…