Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Once, not so long ago, if Arabella had faced the situation she currently found herself in, she would have given up. That was not the person she wanted to be, but a lifetime of being told what to do and how to do it, with no agency of her own, had turned her into that person.
Moreover, her father was the one who had kidnapped her, the person she had to confront. The very thought that she might have fought back was truly laughable.
I am not that person anymore!
It took some time for her to realize this, of course.
After her father left her alone in that room, she spent longer than she was proud to admit on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, weeping with sadness and misery and loss.
For how far she had believed that she had come, she was nothing, just a scared little girl owned completely by her father.
Slowly, however, she searched deep within herself for some semblance of bravery.
She cast her mind back to when she had first married the Duke, how unsure and scared she had been, and how she had determined to overcome that fear.
She had risen to her role as a duchess, taking command of the household, not to mention her own life, and proven what she had always believed of herself: that she was more.
Her father did not own her. She was not the same little girl she had once been. And if she was to escape from this hellscape, she was going to need to do it on her own.
Caspian needs me… Timothy needs me. I will not fail them.
Resolve and steeled determination flooded through Arabella as she climbed to her feet. Belief swept her. She stood tall and proud, knowing she was not beaten.
Then, with her newfound self-confidence burning so intensely that she wondered if she might set the cabin on fire, she focused on escaping.
The single door was locked from the other side, and even if she somehow managed to get through, her father was there.
She was not scared of him, and that was the truth, but she was not strong enough to overpower him either.
More than that, he was dangerous, and she doubted he would resist the urge to hurt her if it came to that.
Her only other option was the boarded window.
Arabella hurried to it and tested the wooden planks that had been nailed into place. She tried to pry her fingers under them, clenched her jaw, arms trembling as she desperately pulled and bucked. But it was hopeless.
No! It is not hopeless. There must be something…
She swept her eyes across the small room. It was practically empty, save for a wooden wardrobe, an old desk, and a single bed. Arabella frowned as she considered, focusing on that bed, noting the iron framework and how rickety it was.
A smile flashed across her face as she hurried to the bed. She tested the frame’s iron bars, laughing as one wiggled loosely. Putting one foot on the bed, she took the iron bar with both hands and pulled, pulled, pulled with all her might.
That was when she heard a pop.
The iron bar sprang from the frame, and she tumbled back, almost falling over and landing on her face. She caught herself, however, then stood tall and proud and triumphant.
With the iron bar in hand, she went back to the boarded window. That time, she wedged the tip of the bar under one of the planks of wood, getting a firm hold, and then began using it like a lever.
It was hard going. Her hands began to burn, as did her arms. But the more she worked, the more she felt the planks of wood prying free.
“Come on…” she groaned as she pulled back. “Please… Please…”
The sounds of splintering wood answered her, followed by a loud crack as the plank of wood snapped free from its nail.
“Ha!” she cried out with joy.
She took that plank of wood with both hands, tore it free, and tossed it onto the floor.
This created a small gap in the window, not big enough to crawl through, but big enough for her to grab another plank of wood with both hands.
She did so, leaning back with all her might, slowly tearing a second plank from the window.
Arabella puffed and heaved. She was coated in sweat. But she looked at the gap she had made in the window, and her smile was one of victory.
My father does not control me…
There was nothing but forest beyond the cabin. It was dark too, so she could hardly see more than a few feet into the distance. But that did not matter. She would hurry into the night, try to find the main road, and somehow make it back home in time to stop Caspian from signing those papers.
With that thought in mind, she went to climb through the window.
“This is a sight I might have never expected.” The voice cut through Arabella’s attempted escape like a hammer smashing against a pane of glass. She gasped, released the window, and tumbled back.
She hit the ground hard, cried out, turned onto her stomach, and pushed herself to her knees. By the time that she did, her father stood right in front of her.
With a glare fixed on her face, Arabella looked up at her father. She needed him to see her anger and her defiance. She needed him to know that she was not broken.
“Again, Arabella, I cannot believe how much you have changed,” he said, almost sounding proud. “Not nearly enough, of course, but a little bit. A woman grown.”
She snarled at him. “I have changed more than that, Father. You do not own me.”
“That is where you are wrong,” he sighed and shook his head. “But as a father must do sometimes, lessons need to be taught. Hopefully, you are a fast learner, as you were when you were younger.” Moving with more speed than she thought possible, her father snatched her by the top of her head.
“No!” she cried out as he started to drag her across the floor. “Let me go!”
“Again, this is your fault!” he hissed as he pulled her. “Why can you not do as you are told!”
Arabella’s hands lashed out as she tried desperately to free herself. She bucked, and she writhed. She kicked to no avail. But as her father pulled her across the room, she saw the iron bar lying on the floor not too far away…
“Get off me!” With a final surge of strength, she half-turned her body and lashed out with her right hand. It found her father’s arm, smashing into it, seeing it bend as he cried out and released her.
“Argh!” he yelped, stumbling back.
Arabella scrambled across the floor. She reached the iron bar and grabbed it. Both her hands wrapped around the cool iron like a bat, and she quickly leaped to her feet and swung it with all her might.
Her father stepped back, the swing went wide, and then he pounced.
He grabbed her by the wrists and wrenched them apart. He squeezed so hard that she was forced to drop the iron bar; it clattered to the ground by their feet. And as he held her, he snarled into her face with such venomous fury that she felt it burning her.
“You… You will regret that,” he hissed.
“Let me go!” she screamed and snapped.
“As you wish!” He pushed her back, and she fell onto her rear. She then scrambled away, her back soon hitting the wall. She pressed herself against it as her father walked toward her. On the way, he picked up the iron bar.
He stood short as he looked down at her. His eyes were wild and wide. His teeth were bared. Never had she seen him so angry. And never had she been so afraid.
It was all well and good to stand up to a person, to prove that you could. But sometimes, such acts of bravery were pointless and did more harm than good. And from the way her father stood over her, Arabella knew that harm was exactly what she was about to experience.
Her father had won.