Captive Bride - Alta Hensley Page 0,24
I choose to have hope the upcoming snow storm means good for you… for us.”
Christopher smirks. “I seriously doubt he’ll ever take this chain off. I’d run, and he knows it. And if I could get close enough to him, I’d kill him. He knows that too. I’d do whatever I could to escape this hell.”
“You can’t run in the winter. It’s impossible.”
“How so?”
I point as his bare feet and then at mine as I wiggle my toes. “There’s a reason we don’t have shoes. I’ve never worn a pair of shoes in my life except for snow boots when I’m allowed to go snowshoeing, but Papa keeps those with him. We’d get frostbite and lose our toes before we’d even make it to the gate. If somehow you made it to the gate, there are cameras and alarms to let Papa Rich know of trespassers. He’d be down the road in his truck before you’d get far. And even after the gate, there are miles of dirt road before reaching the town. No shoes, means no escape.”
“Cameras. Gate. Escape. Do you hear yourself? Is this a normal conversation for you? You must see how wrong this is. Your father has kidnapped me. He’s holding me here against my will. Surely you see the insanity in this.”
“It’s just the way it is,” I say softly, not necessarily disagreeing with Christopher, but not wanting to agree either. Because if I agree, what does that mean?
Is my Papa Rich the monster that Christopher believes him to be?
He reaches out and takes my hand. His eyes connect with mine and I see sadness. “Ember,” he says slowly. “The fact you’re telling me all these details means you’ve thought of running away. It means you know deep down you’re a captive here just as much as me. You know this don’t you?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not a captive. I’m just telling you what Papa Rich has told me. He told me that if I ever get curious and want to go to town, that it would be impossible. He was telling me this for my own good. Just in case I wanted to go to the store myself to buy sugar or a book.”
Christopher squeezes my hand, but not hard. “You’ve never had a pair of shoes?”
I shake my head as I look down at his fingers intertwined with mine. I like the connection. I like the feel. His fingers are cold due to the temperature of the room, but mine are warm, and I enjoy knowing I’m heating his with the touch.
“He doesn’t allow you to wear shoes, so you won’t run,” he says.
“It’s for my own good. Curiosity killed the cat, right?” I smile in hopes to lessen the tension I’m feeling.
“Don’t you ever want to leave Hallelujah Junction?” he asks with the softest of voice. “You’ve spent your entire life here. Don’t you ever want to see what’s out there? Wouldn’t you like to go to the store yourself? Wouldn’t you like to wear a pair of shoes?”
These questions…
I never gave myself the luxury of thinking this way in the past.
If Papa knew we were having this discussion…
“We all have different paths in life,” I say as I release Christopher’s hand. I need space and walk to the crate that has become my chair as of late.
“And yours is to stay locked up in a schoolhouse forever?”
I don’t like this conversation. It makes my heart beat hard and my stomach tighten. I glance to the door and hope that Papa Rich isn’t within earshot.
“We need to be good,” I nearly whisper. “If we keep being good, Papa Rich will reward us. I know it. He’ll give us more freedom. And once he does, you’ll see just how special Hallelujah Junction is. I have so many places I want to show you. There are so many secrets here.” I give a big smile to him and feel my cheeks heat in excitement for future possibilities of happiness. “I don’t believe in ghosts… not really. But at the same time, you can nearly hear them speak in the walls of these buildings. If you listen real close.”
“And I have special places I’d like to show you,” he says. “But they aren’t here. There’s so much more than here.”
Delusion is easy.
Reality is hard.
But I still want to ask the next question.
“If you could leave here, would you really take me with you?”
“Would you be willing to leave with me?” he asks.
Papa Rich