But I wouldn’t let it faze my determination.
I had to focus on my task at hand, or the weight of my situation would come crashing back down. And I couldn’t freeze up now. I had to escape before that monster came back.
As odd as the lock was, it was old. Old locks weren’t complicated. A bobby pin would do the trick.
I reached for my ponytail, snatching a bobby pin out of my dark, tangled hair, and set to work fitting it into the keyhole. I twisted and jiggled it, trying to turn over the mechanism inside, but despite struggling for several minutes, it didn’t unlock.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves before attempting one more time.
To my despair, it still didn’t work.
Frustrating, but not the end of the world.
I just needed something more heavy duty than a bobby pin to flip the antique piece inside.
Scanning the room for anything useful, I lasered in on the details I’d missed when I was first dragged into the room. Two doors led off to the right–probably to a bathroom and a closet if I had to guess–but they were too far away for me to reach. A glossy black grandfather clock sat in one corner, but there were no numbers on its face, only hands that spun around slowly. On the opposite side of the bed from where I stood, an ornate desk sat in the corner.
So many things for me to investigate, all just out of my reach.
I groaned in annoyance, but my eyes kept crawling back to the desk, wondering what sort of useful things might be concealed in the drawers. There had to be something I could use to pick the lock, it was just a matter of getting over there. The chain pulled taut, the metal collar biting into my neck.
All I needed was a few extra feet of reach…
Dragging my gaze away from the desk, I glared at the enormous four-poster bed, wondering how hard it would be to move. It looked solid, carved out of real wood, so I knew it would be heavy, but I was no stranger to moving heavy shit. Caskets, tombstones, sacks full of recovered belongings. I might have been short and petite, but I wasn’t weak. Not by a long shot.
Adrenaline igniting in my veins, I stepped up to the side of the bed and pushed on one of the banisters experimentally. It didn’t budge.
Fuck. If this plan didn’t work, what would I do next? I shuddered to think of the frightfully short list of options. Nope. This had to be the answer.
I braced myself next to the bed, squatting low and shoving against the enormous bed. To my relief, it shifted, the echo of it dragging across the rug echoing through the room. Unfortunately, it didn’t move much.
I tried again, digging deep and shoving as hard as I could manage. My arms strained, my toes aching as my boots dug into the floor, but I kept going. Gritting, swearing, and sweating, I managed to move the giant four-poster a couple of feet. When I couldn’t move it anymore, I scrambled across the bed and hopped off the other side, reaching for the top middle drawer of the desk.
I groaned, fighting the disappointment weighing down my shoulders, and tried again, stretching as far as I could while the unforgiving metal of the collar cut into the tender skin of my neck.
With a cry, I was able to grab the handle and wrench open the drawer, relief flooding my limbs when it was full of miscellaneous items. I searched frantically through papers, scraps of fabric, and random knick knacks before my fingers brushed against a letter opener. A letter opener! A weapon and a half-decent lockpick. I could have cried.
Snatching it from the drawer, I hardly admired the slender white bone handle and thin blade before turning it on the collar and jamming the metal into the keyhole. I silently prayed to any and every deity listening as I twisted and turned the blade, my heart nearly stopping when the lock clicked. My hope soared. With trembling fingers, I pulled off the collar and threw it down, the metal clanking hard against the floor.
I choked down several deep breaths of air, flooded with the relief of being free, but I didn’t hesitate before running across the room for the door. There was no telling how long the creature would wait before returning, and I planned to be long gone before he came back.
I made quick work of the door, almost disappointed that the lock wasn’t harder to pick, and eased it open to peer into the empty corridor outside. It was silent and empty, the dark macabre aesthetic giving it an eerie feeling that had goosebumps racing down my arms.
Gripping the handle of the letter opener like a miniature sword, I swallowed hard against my heart beating in my throat and slipped through the doorway, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of movement.
I had a feeling the monster who’d captured me wouldn’t be too pleased if he discovered I’d escaped, but I was almost insulted that he didn't think I’d be able to. I was one of the greatest grave-robbers I’d ever heard of, and he thought a couple of simple locks would keep me bound indefinitely? I scoffed.
He’d have to try much harder next time, if he was able to catch me.
Keeping my footsteps light–as light as I could with the shit-kicker boots I was wearing–I hurried down the hall, my eyes poring over all the enchanting details. Ornate fixtures, randomly placed suits of armor, and black, detailed crown molding that lined every inch of every wall. Elaborate staircases, horrifically beautiful paintings in thick frames, and a mesmerizing, dark atmosphere worthy of any gothic horror film.
It was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen. I hated how much I loved it.
I had no idea which way I was headed, or even which way would lead me to an exit. This whole place was disorienting to all the senses, so I tried to keep track of the turns I made in case I had to double back.Left at the suit of armor, right at the painting of the woman in black, left down a set of stairs.There were so many hallways and stairs that it was a futile effort to try and remember them all, but I tried nevertheless while seemingly getting myself more lost in the castle.
Left at the suit of armor, right at the painting of the woman in black, left down a set of…
I froze at the top of the stairs, the prickling sensation of familiarity skirting up my spine.
