Escaping Mr. Rochester by L.L. McKinney

Author:L.L. McKinney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

22

Two Can Keep a Secret

Bertha . . .

I am tired.

I am tired of this place.

I am tired of these people.

I am tired not of fighting, but of having to fight.

I am wrung and outstretched, pressed and pulled, twisted and bent, sore and abused.

A lady needs her rest, Maman used to say. Whenever I would find myself unsteady from having spent too much time helping her with the flowers in the garden. Or when I was little and had run myself and the heels of my slippers ragged playing with the dogs in the yard. Other parents might have found such things distasteful in their daughter, especially those belonging to the upper echelons of society. Such parents would have scolded their girls, chided them for having too much energy, too much fight, too much anything.

But not mine.

A lady needs her rest. Maman’s fingers would plait my hair against my scalp gently where I rested my head upon her lap. Just as fire needs air to maintain its flame, a lady needs a moment to herself, to breathe and be, before she can set the world ablaze.

Oh, I would burn this place to the ground. But while my fury rages bright, my body can only carry so much. And I am tired. And missing my family so very keenly. So I will rest. If but for a moment.

For what feels like the hundredth time I finger the edges of the letter from Maman, thankful that I was able to rescue it from Edward’s clutches. Her words call out to me, already etched in my memory. Almost every waking hour, thoughts of her, my papa, and his failing health consume me. They nearly blot out thoughts of escape.

Even though I want nothing more than to be away from here, I cannot manage to think of how I will accomplish this. And I am running out of time in new ways that claw at my heart.

“Maman,” I whisper to the quiet. My voice cracks on the burn of tears, my words shriveling up. “Tell me what to do. Help me. . . .” I curl on my side into the bed. My chains rattle, my only constant companions. A reminder of how, every time I believe my torment has reached its peak, Edward manages to outdo himself.

It feels as if my chest is being cracked and hung open. I cry into the crook of my arm, the sound of my sobs echoing in the room, in my mind.

Until another sound joins them.

The sound of wood creaking.

At first, I’m certain it’s in my head before— Crack!

I sit up, glancing around. The sound is coming from the closet. More creaking. Another snap. Then a solid POP!

For a moment I’m not sure what to do. Surely this can’t be Grace or any of the others undoing the work of boarding up my escape?

“Hello?” I call out, my voice nearly a whisper in my shock.

I push to stand, the chains rattling as I take a cautious step toward the closet.

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