Two

The body lay helpless on the ground, blood still seeping from the wound. The night was pitch-black, the only light flickering from the candles and lanterns inside the cottage. Andrew's heart had stopped. Janet knew it. And she also knew — only a skilled swordsman could've done this. Her hands trembled, but she couldn't stop. Quietly, she crept back into the cottage.

"Grandpa, Grandpa!" she whispered urgently, shaking the old man awake.

He stirred quickly. "What is it?"

"We have to go. Now. I think the townsfolk had Andrew followed."

"Where is Andrew?" the old man asked, eyes narrowing.

Janet's face fell. He understood instantly.

A sharp sound split the air — an arrow zipped past, grazing Janet's cheek. Blood trickled down as it lodged into the wall beside them. She touched her face and saw the thick red on her palm.

"We have to leave. Now."

They ran into the darkness, leaving everything behind. The night was so black they could barely see. Arrows kept whizzing past them from figures dressed alike, chasing them through the woods. Janet tripped on a branch, slicing her leg. Her dress snagged; she couldn't move. Grandpa was nowhere to be seen. The attackers caught up and dragged her away, beating her until everything faded.

****** ******

Birds chirped in the early morning, their songs eerily bright in contrast to the silence. The sun glared down on a thatched house atop a mountain. Inside, the captors busied themselves frying bushmeat over open flames. Two men dragged Janet into the house.

"Fry. Lock her up. Don't let her escape," the leader ordered.

"Who are you people?" Janet cried. "Let go of me. My grandfather—he's still out there in the forest!"

"What did you say?" Fry asked, stepping forward, his eyes gleaming with a strange intensity.

"I don't know where he is. Just let me go."

"Who is your grandfather?" Fry asked again.

Janet hesitated, fear tightening her chest. Before she could respond, he slapped her across the injured cheek. Pain burst through her face as she whimpered.

"I said I don't know," she whispered.

Fry dragged her to the edge of a cliff near a waterfall.

"You see that?" he said coldly. "One push, and you're gone. Unless you talk."

Janet's fear spilled over. "He's Gary... my grandpa."

Fry's face hardened. "What? That man stabbed the king's daughter. He was supposed to be executed. And you helped him live?"

"He's not my father. He's my grandfather. What could I have done? I couldn't just let him die. You'd do the same—"

"No," Fry cut her off. "I'll inform the kingsmen. You'll be executed too."

Janet collapsed to her knees, clutching Fry's leg. "Please... don't. I'll do whatever you want. Just don't turn me in."

He stared at her, cold calculation in his eyes. Then, his voice lowered.

"I want to sleep with you. Right now. Will you do that?"

A wave of sickness swept through her. She felt as though a knife had been driven through her gut. But she'd made a promise. Her eyes, heavy with defeat, looked into his.

"You have me."

***

The door slammed. The windows were sealed. A lantern flickered softly in the corner. Fry lay half-naked on the bed, eyes hungry. Janet slowly undressed, trembling. She left only her bra and underwear. Fry reached out, his touch invasive. He shoved her onto the bed, forcing her legs apart. The room grew hot and loud. It went on until Fry collapsed in sleep, satisfied.

Janet lay still, soaked in sweat and tears. Quietly, she slipped from the bed, gathering her clothes. Her body ached, her spirit even more.

She grabbed the lantern, poured kerosene around the room, and lit a match. Flames roared to life. Coughing, she slipped out the back door and ran. The entire house lit up behind her as people rushed to contain the blaze.

She kept running into the woods, the lantern in her hand. Her legs shook with each step. She hadn't gotten far when a beam of light shone on her — a car. The headlights lit up her bruised and half-naked figure. The car door opened.

Janet froze. Her eyes widened.

She knew the person standing before her.