2 A Closed Mind is Such a Terrible Thing to Waste
2: A Closed Mind is Such a Terrible Thing to Waste
Mina
I drag the small piece of stone down the brick, pressing hard enough for the little white line to score it permanently.
Twenty-nine.
There are twenty-nine, inch-long lines. Tally marks. One for every day I’ve been down in this cell, trapped in the damp, dark, musty hole. The tiny window at the top of the cell is the only way I’ve been able to keep track of how long I’ve been here, the minuscule amount of light it provides enough to tell me when night falls after each gloomy day.
If it wasn’t for these silly little lines in the brick, I might have gone completely mad down here.
No light, no sound. No interaction with another living thing. I don’t think I’ve used my voice since the first week I was here. Asking questions got me no answers, begging got me laughed at, and threats led to being whipped. Since then, I’ve been quiet, left with nothing but my tally marks, and the voice inside my head.
Voices might be more accurate at this point because I don’t just hear myself anymore.
There aren’t any sounds, any noises, the foot traffic outside the window isn’t even loud enough to permeate the glass. But somehow, I’m hearing the faintest voices, female voices, and I know they aren’t anywhere but my own mind.
Whispered pleas, shrill begging. Moans of pain, uncontrollable sobbing, and panicked screams. All of it is filling my head while I sit here and count the days, and at times, it’s as if those feelings, those emotions are my own. So, no, I’m not completely mad, but I’m well on my way, and if I have any hope of getting out of here, I can’t allow that to happen.
I have to find Reggie.
My chest tightens at the thought of that sweet little boy being left all alone in that house, his parents gone, no one in the world that would know he was there to save him. I can only hope that one of the staff came by for some reason and found him, but I can’t count on that. Most of them were let go in anticipation of our trip to America, and the few that were coming with us, they weren’t sure they were going to, so why would they stop by the house? What would they find when they did?
I hope that terrible man, that monster , doesn’t have him.
Pelifer. I hope he didn’t take Reggie when I was knocked out.
I don’t know what he’d want to do with a baby, anyway, so taking him, especially when his parents were dead, doesn’t seem like it would be beneficial to that terrible creature.
Then again, I have no idea why they took me, either, and I’m not sure I’ll ever find out based on—
My head swings toward the heavy, iron door as I hear a key turn in the lock.
Why are they back so soon?
I was bathed yesterday. The women in charge came for me, scrubbed me raw, then instructed me to keep myself clean as they dumped me back in here. Considering the floor is dirt, the walls are stone, and the only thing I have to sit on is a hay-filled sack in the corner, that’s a pretty tall order. I’ve tried, though, because I don’t particularly want to have another layer of my skin rubbed raw because they have to bathe me again.
My morning meal was a little while ago. I’m not sure exactly how long, but I’m not starving yet, so it can’t be more than a few hours. Which means, whoever this is, isn’t here to provide me with anything to eat. Even if they were, they don’t open the door for that. Everything, including the bucket in the corner I was given to relieve myself in, passes through a small panel at the bottom of the door that can be opened from the other side.
If they aren’t here for any of the things they usually are, I’m at a loss for their purpose, and that in itself is rather terrifying.
Slowly, the heavy metal swings open, the bottom edge scraping along the floor with a dull thump, and muted screech. Light spills in momentarily, dim light from the lanterns outside my cell, but it’s quickly extinguished as a large body steps into the doorway.
My heart starts pounding in my chest as I press my back against the wall, my hands shaking, my stomach tightening as the body steps inside with an obvious lantern in one hand, a brown sack in the other, and as soon as he’s all the way in, the door slams shut behind him.
Desperately trying to see, my eyes widen but I’m still only able to make out a large shadow moving slowly, setting the sack down, and busying himself with the contents. I can hear clanking of hard objects, brushing of fabric, and then…
She still fears me.
I frown as those words fill my cell, the voice deep and soft, and almost familiar.
“Did…” I say hoarsely, moving along the wall until I’m under the tiny window, hoping the moonlight will help me see my visitor more clearly. “Did you say something?”
A match strikes, the flame casting an orange hue against the wall, one that grows as the candle is lit, and my stomach rolls at what I see.
Scratch marks.
There are bloody scratch marks all along the wall, reaching out toward the floor and ceiling. I can even see a few fingernails stuck in a few places.
That’s reassuring.
I knew I wasn’t the only one to live here, solely based on the various scents that are engrained in the floor, and the mattress, but seeing something like that is horrifying.
A loud clank pulls me from my thoughts and my eyes shift toward it, the lantern now sitting on top of a small stool, the looming shadow stretching to his full height and when the light grows, I can’t quiet my gasp.
It’s him.
The huge bull-man, the one who was at the Hughes’s house the day they were killed.
I wish she didn’t fear me.
I know I heard that, those words were as clear as day, but I didn’t see his mouth move. Granted, he isn’t facing me, but I can tell his mouth didn’t move from his profile in the dim light. This half bull, half man is speaking, though, no one can tell me he’s not.
Calming myself because I believe the words he isn’t exactly saying, I clutch my stomach and take a deep breath. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He turns toward me, those dark brown eyes glimmering under long lashes as he snorts.
“I’m not. I know you aren’t going to hurt me.” I twist the tattered pieces of my dress in my hands and take a step toward him. “What’s your name?”
Another snort, a quiet bellow, and then I hear, It has been ages since anyone has cared to know my name, and I cannot speak to tell it to her.
“I can hear you,” I say as I take another step. “I have no idea how, or why, but I can hear you.”
The terrifying truth in that should have me questioning life as I know it, but I’m standing in a prison cell across from a man who shares multiple features with a bull, a month after I witnessed some kind of creature murder my employers. Nothing is impossible at this point, and the sooner I can accept that, the sooner I might be able to get out of here.
Amos. He cocks his head to the side, almost as if he doesn’t believe me, then repeats, My name is Amos .
I nod and give him the best smile I can muster. “Amos. I like that.”
His brow furrows. You do hear me.
“I do.”
What is your name?
I look down at my dress, momentarily wishing I was wearing something nicer, then I roll my eyes at how ridiculous that is. “Mina. Wilhelmina, but I go by Mina.”
Mina?
I nod and take another step.
I like your name, Mina. It is beautiful, like you. I swear he blushes at that but Amos quickly goes back to digging in the bag he brought. I have water for you.
“Thank you.”
He steps forward, holding out a canteen that I eagerly accept, a sound of satisfaction coming from Amos as I begin to drink. And all the while, I watch him.
His body moves so gracefully for his size, the bulk Amos is carrying shouldn’t make him so, but he is. It’s beautiful, actually, the way he carries himself, and the fact that he seems almost nervous puts me at ease.
“What,” I ask as I wipe a little water from my lips. “Can I ask, what—”
Minotaur , Amos responds. I am minotaur .
“Oh.” I have no idea what that is, but he answered my question. This one, anyway. “Where are we?”
The Spitalfields.
“In The East End?” Amos nods and my stomach churns. “What, why are we here? Who brought me here?”
Pelifer , he responds in my head, another snort and bellow leaving his lips as his hoof prods the ground. Pelifer brought you here .
My heart starts to race all over again, that simple statement enough to have my pulse skyrocketing. “Where… Where’s the baby?”
Amos glances at me before those warm eyes drop to the bag and he produces a large piece of fabric. He is safe, that is all I know.
Thank god for that.
I’ve been worrying myself sick over Reggie and while I’m not convinced he’s entirely safe, knowing he’s alive and unharmed is enough for now.
You have to put this on . Amos holds out the white fabric that looks a little like burlap. Quickly, Mina. We don’t have much time .
My brow furrows as I take what seems to be some sort of nightgown, holding it out in front of me as I ask, “Why do I have to put this on?”
He motions for me to hurry then moves in front of me, his thick fingers quickly unbuttoning the front of my dress, but he doesn’t answer me.
The spike in Amos’s nerves has me feeling the same, my anxiety matching his, and I don’t even care that this minotaur is undressing me. He’s not a threat, and I believe that he wants to help me, and the fact that Amos is doing everything in an almost reverent way proves both.
“Why do I have to put this on, Amos?” I still his hands as my tattered dress falls to the floor at my dirty feet. “Amos?”
His eyes move over my body quickly before they meet mine, the beast of a man taking a deep breath before he releases it in a huff, his breath warm against my naked skin. Pelifer is taking you to auction, and he is going to sell you to the highest bidder .
****
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