“Are you never allowed outside?” I rub my ankle, knowing that forcing my way out from these restraints is futile. But this woman… this woman can be my ticket to freedom.
“Not during tourist season.” She glances at the door again. She’s scared my captor will hear her. I can see it. Mental note: this daughter does fear her father. I can use that fact to my advantage. “But during the wintertime, the road up to Hallelujah Junction is usually closed due to the snow. So then, the entire town is ours. Papa Rich allows me to go outside then. I love it. We build snowmen, and even snowshoe for exercise. Winter is my favorite season because of the…”
Freedom, I want to answer for her but remain silent.
“I only visit the buildings that the tourists can’t in the busy season,” she adds.
An eerie realization dawns on me. “You’re the female ghost in the schoolhouse window that makes Hallelujah Junction so famous, aren’t you?”
She plays with the ends of her hair and nods. “It was an accident. I didn’t know I could be seen. When Papa Rich found out that people saw me, he was so angry. He told me I had to stay here in the cellar like you. It was a long time before he let me out.”
I exhale a lungful of air I didn’t realize I was holding.
She twists her hair around and around her index finger. “But he eventually let me out of this room. He taught me when it was okay to be in the school window and when it wasn’t. He said my accident actually protects me even more. Because if I am somehow seen again, he can blame the ghost and folklore getting in the minds of people hoping to see the schoolhouse haunting.”
I reposition my body, and as I do, I see this woman in a completely different way.
The darkness of the room that drips and oozes with diabolical acts drowns by the warmth in her voice. “I’m the ghost of Hallelujah Junction,” she adds, and I can’t tell if that last statement makes her proud or sad.
I carefully consider how I proceed with Ember. My earlier attempt of trying to reason with her didn’t work. Whether I understand it or not, she loves her kidnapper. I can’t expect her to give up years and years of believing the man is her savior by simply telling her she’s wrong. He has earned her trust, devotion, and loyalty. My only chance is somehow overpowering those feelings and emotions with her own toward me. How? I am not sure. But somehow.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” she asks.
“Not yet.” I can’t accept the fact that I will be down here long enough to even consider food and water.
“I’m a good cook. Or at least Papa Rich says so. I found several old cookbooks in the schoolhouse that I use, although I have the recipes memorized now. Is there anything special you like to eat?”
Her smile is slow building, but when it fully forms, her appearance completely changes. She doesn’t appear nearly as haunted as before.
Jesus. She’s so hopeful she can actually please me in my current situation.
“Ember…” I proceed with caution. “Have you ever wanted to leave Hallelujah Junction?”
“My mother—”
“If you could be protected from her,” I cut in, validating her concern. “If I could protect you from her.”
“As my husband?” she asks almost whimsically. Like I was her found Prince Charming and could slay all the dragons.
I can’t say yes, but I also don’t want to lose her. “I would protect you.”
Ember hops off the crate she is sitting on and takes a few cautious steps toward me. I wouldn’t reach out and grab her even if I could. I can already tell this process of convincing her to release me will take small baby steps.
“What can we do to make you more comfortable?” she asks. “I can get blankets and pillows if that helps.”
I bite back the bubbling fury building inside of me. I want to snap, to yell, to shake sense into her that no amount of pillows or blankets are going to make me comfortable, but she will run. I know she will run.
“A chair,” I say, shaking off my frustration. “So, I don’t have to sit on the ground.”
Her eyes light up, and that smile of hers returns. She quickly runs around a crate and drags a wooden chair from behind it. She doesn’t pause before reaching me this time, which I take as a good sign. If I wanted to, I could grab her and snap her neck with my bare hands. But she is unaware of that fact which tells me the trust level is beginning.
She places the chair beside me, and I stand. She still doesn’t move or take any steps backwards. She doesn’t even flinch.