NINA
For my first birthday, my father barged into my room at midnight and yanked me from the bed by my hair. He then proceeded to drag me across my miniature room in one sweep before pulling me up on my feet. I wriggled and jerked trying to get away from his tight grip but I couldn’t. I was only three years old; I still believed in tooth fairies and Santa Claus.
I watched helplessly as my father kicked the basement door open and pushed me inside. Our basement was stark dark and it had this pungent smell of something dying, a racoon probably or a rodent. At first, I had thought it was a farce, that he would come back, open the door and have a good laugh at my scare but soon I realized that I was going to be there a while. I had pounded on the door until my tiny fists began oozing blood. When the realization of not being freed dawned on me, I gave up, slid against the door and buried my head between my knees. I just couldn’t understand why I was spending my birthday in our basement, our dark smelly basement. Later I would find out that my father hated my birthdays more than anything in the world and frankly he hated a lot of things.
My birthday reminded him of the day my mother died.
As I cried and sniffled trying to understand my father’s crude actions, I had heard some peculiar noises. With my curiosity piqued, I had hoisted myself up and began moving around in the darkness. As I crossed the room, the noises heightened. I came to a sudden stop when I felt something on my foot. It proceeded to climb upwards and I remained there, frozen. It took me a while to discover that the basement was infested with rats and that the pungent smell was actually from one that had died. I had screamed and ran back towards what I thought was the door and began pounding it with a manic energy that had been powered by adrenaline. Turns out I was ramming my puny fists against the wall, as I would find out the following day when the sun rose.
* * *
I had managed to crawl out of bed, now I had to figure out how to reach the open window. An idea had struck me; I had a bunch of sheets and an open window, this shouldn’t be too hard.
Except I couldn’t feel my legs.
The first time I had planted my feet on the ground and attempted to stand, I had fell hard on the ground, my legs completely refusing to support my weight. I had done this thrice before deciding it was better to crawl than to walk. I was currently well on my way towards the window with the sheets tucked safely in between my right arm and rib. I tried summoning my inner Jennifer Lawrence from Hunger Games but she seemed to have taken a vacation to Hawaii, or Jamaica or Peru, I had read somewhere that Mombasa was lovely at this time of the year.
Ha-ha Nina, you don’t know what year you are in.
I finally reached the wall where the window was positioned. Before attempting to lift myself up, I took in a huge lunge of air.
This was going to hurt.
According to intellects and scholars, grit is what people need to go an extra mile. Possessing this character determines how far you will go in life. I thrust my arm forward and grabbed the protrusion on the wall. I then used it to lift myself up. Searing pain bolted through my legs and travelled at a lightning pace to the rest of my body. I quivered violently, what had these monsters done to me?
I bit the inside of my cheeks as I moved my left foot. When it successfully obliged, I indulged my right foot. I trudged against the wall, my mind trying to block the pain. A small smile made its way on my lips when a cool breeze fanned my face, I had actually done it. I was by the freaking window! I fumbled with the sheets a while; my fingers were still stiff. As I worked on tying the knots, I wondered about Barry.
Where was he? Was he being tortured using his worst fears like what had happened to me earlier? I still could not understand why these people kidnapped us, well me to be precise. Barry was royalty whereas I was a nobody.
A nobody who needed to get home.
Seth. He had known about Seth but how? Nothing made sense anymore. First things first, the girl, Tamara had hinted that she would be back. By the time that happened, I should be long gone. If I could make my way back to King Matthias, maybe he could help me get home.
But could I really leave here without Barry? I couldn’t just leave him behind. He was the only person in the world who actually cared about me. The question was how I was going to rescue him. I didn’t even know where he was and if he was being guarded. Even if I did find him, what would I do? My body was too weak, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t support his weight. I sighed, I was assuming the worst. Perhaps they hadn’t tortured him, perhaps he was just sitting still in some fancy room as these criminals contacted King Matthias and Luke for ransom. That is why influential people got kidnapped anyway. Wait, how did these people communicate? Messengers? Smoke signals?
Aiyayay.
I needed to get back home where phones existed. Granted, I was no different from them as I didn’t own a phone but payphones were everywhere back in the city.
Mustering all the strength within me, I pushed myself towards the window to let down the trail of knotted sheets. I froze.
There must have been hundreds of them or thousands really. They moved in all directions, some faster than the others. Some simply abandoned the whole activity of walking and...I leaned forward against the window railing to take a closer look at the people who seemed to be floating on air. No, they weren’t floating, they were flying and not on broomsticks like the magical creatures I had seen on our cable or some Elon Musk invention. No, they were actually flying, with actual wings.
And they were not human. What in the name of Father Christmas…
“Extraordinary isn’t it?”
It all happened so quickly. I had been leaning dangerously over the railing. The voice startled me and I found myself falling through the air, plunging into my death.