Come away, O human child: to the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. -William Butler Yeats
Sunlight bounces off the walls of the room. I cast my eyes down the length of the bed. Stephen is no longer in the room. Wooden floorboards groan.
There's movement outside the door.
I strain against my restraints. Twisting my right-hand side to side while pulling, I'm able to slip halfway through the shackle. Rubbing a blister, I tear off skin. Finally, I'm able to free my hand.
Leaning over to the left, I find a leaver on the shackle encasing my left hand. Once free, I sit up and scoot to the bottom of the bed to release my ankles. I snap my dress, and then, I rub the sore muscles in my legs. They feel stiff and sore. When
