The whispers were faint. She had grabbed her sheets, tossing and turning trying to pull her way out.
“Door. The door.” The words were chanting, but she couldn’t find the door. It was too dark and too cold. Her shirt was torn. It exposed her left side of her chest. She needed to get out of there.
“Come on!” He yelled. “Didn’t you hear me?”
She was shaking her head yes, unable to speak. His face was red with anger, screaming his demands. She was unable to fulfill his wishes. It was a let down and she felt she had failed him. Her body was filled with sweat and was exhausted. She couldn’t push herself any further. Not knowing where she was and where she was going.
“You are a FAILURE!” He shouted.
Tears ran down her face as she heard those words. A failure of some sort. Never achieving anything. A disappointment to whom? Who was this guy shouting? Why did she feel the need to satisfy him?
Pamela took a deep breath and realized she was choking. She tried to motion “help me”, but all he did was look at her; waiting for her death. She had fainted and slipped. It was the mud that was sinking her. It was like quick sand, pulling her in. Now she was barely conscious, as she reached towards him with the last strength she could muster up, but he didn’t even try to help. He just stood there watching, waiting, for her last breath.
It was her dog that woke her up, licking her face. She was at the very edge of her bed, falling to her feet as she rolled out. Her heart was pounding hard. She was truly exhausted. It was as though she was living her nightmare. She stumbled to the bathroom, trying to wake herself up with the cold splash of water.
The book. Where did she leave the book? She had gotten drunk and fell asleep barely remembering where she hid the book. The mattress. She remembered that had slipped it between her mattresses.
It was an original with incantations. The text was in an old language, but luckily there were markings of the translation written next to it. It would take her all day to rewrite it, but she had to. She needed a copy. Then she would try it. It had to work. The other books were phonies . She was told this one was an original.
It was the book of the undead witches. The story was that the midwives were publicly punished for helping give life to a baby that the people thought was stillborn. As they lay beaten and bloodied on the grass for dead, there was a light that shined on them through the clouds. It made their body shake, and the onlookers run. They were deemed witches and were outcasted from the village. Then it was said that they made incantations that helped them survive in the wilderness among the wild animals. They soon became rich with fortune and controlled the villagers.
It was worth a try. What did she have to loose? She had researched her ancestry and she was linked to these, so called, witches. It was in her blood to rule. Now she had to make it true.