BALLERINA - derek morgan

Adaline Watson's POV

According to the antique clock by the mirror, it has been 53 minutes since Myles left, locking the door behind him as he went. In those minutes, I have been desperately seeking any way of escape.

When my eyes and mind are unable to find anything helpful, I turn my attention back to the slightly rusted metal shackle around my right ankle. There is a small amount of extra room between the cold steel and my skin, but not nearly enough to squeeze my foot out of the opening. There are no rough edges along the seam of the cuff, and the chain has no thin or weak links that I can see from my reclined position.

I am afraid to move. The extreme pain in my side is becoming more and more unbearable with each shallow breath I take. I fear that if I move around more than I have been that I will manage to worsen my condition, but I refuse to just sit here and do nothing - just waiting for him to come back down the stairs and do whatever his deranged mind desires.

With a deep sigh, I plant my palms against the mattress below me, pushing myself up until I am sitting upright. A harsh bite of my lower lip keeps me from whimpering at the pain caused by even that slight of a motion. My eyes clench shut so tightly that white static appears behind my lids, dancing along with the throbbing just below my ribcage. My hand gently flies to the bandaged wound on my side, fluttering fingertips brushing against the roughness of the gauze held on by tape.

I dont even want to imagine what my wound looks like underneath the bandage. I shudder at the mental image of the poorly done stitch job that could be infecting my body at this moment: something that could lead to my death if not treated correctly. Instead of dwelling on these morbid thoughts, I  ignore both them and the pain I feel as I quietly slide towards the end of the bed to see the range of motion permitted by the heavy chain.

After grabbing the chain with my hand to keep it from bumping against the footboard, my feet lower down until they are met by the coldness of the dirty concrete floor. A slight groan forms in protest as I put weight onto them and attempt to stand, vertigo flooding my vision and causing items in the room to blur into unnatural shapes. I struggle to remain standing, managing to do so after several seconds of wobbly staggering from foot to foot.

The chain clanks lightly against the bed as I do so, but not nearly loud enough to arouse suspicion from my captor. I weakly proceed forward, feeding the chain out with my hands as I slide my feet in no particular direction. I get about 3 feet from the bed before the chain goes taut as it reaches its limit.

"Okay." I murmur to myself, seeing how much I am able to reach within this meter of freedom.

To my right, there is a small white table prepared for a tea party, complete with child-sized plastic tableware. Two of the four tiny chairs are occupied by ragged stuffed animals; both posed to appear to be reaching for their teacups on the table. Ignoring the haunting scene, I stretch as far as I am able, grabbing a hard plastic fork from one of the table settings. If I could use it to attempt to pick the crude keyhole of my shackle, it would be worth grabbing now and would easily go without Myles noticing it to be missing.

I carry it back to the bed, tucking it deep into one of the pillowcases. I continue on, walking along the footboard as far as the chain would allow, wincing as it once again brushes against the decorative iron posts. I am not able to reach as far on the left side of the bed due to the position at which the chain is attached to the metal. I can't come close enough to be able to grab anything from the makeup vanity easily or any other pieces of furniture spread across that side of the room.

In a fruitless attempt, I try to reach far enough to grab a small silver letter opener that I see near the pitcher of water. I stretch as far as the chain will allow, feeling the pain searing throughout my body as I do so. A quiet cry of desperation escapes my lips as my fingers brush against the edge of the table, unable to reach any farther.

A sudden flash of agony runs through my torso and I feel my legs give out beneath me. I collapse to the floor all at once, the concrete slamming into me mercilessly. I cannot find any strength to stop the wail of anguish that tears through my chest as the worst physical pain I have ever felt renders me paralyzed. Not even the quick pace of footsteps rushing down the stairs can bring my mind to a place of rationality to be silent. Instant tears spring to my eyes as I shriek, curling into a tight ball with arms pressed to my wounded body.

"Mother!" I hear his panicked voice exclaim just as the heavy door swings open and slams against the wall. "Are you alright? What happened!?"

He rushes to my side, dropping to his knees before me. My rapid breathing only exacerbates the pain, but I cannot stop the hyperventilation that surges through my lungs. Myles' voice repeating his frantic questions finally breaking my attention away from the consuming fire spreading up to my ribs, sweat forming on my forehead from the distress I am under.

"I-I was," I force out before the pain steals my voice momentarily. "Trying to get more water." I lie as convincingly I can, considering my pain.

"You should know better than to move around when you're hurt," he scolds me, his hands hovering over my bleeding abdomen before wrapping an arm around my back. "Let's get you to the bed."

I instinctually cringe away from his touch, but my disgust is instantly replaced by an insufferable stabbing deep in my body when he starts to lift me. Another uncontrollable cry echoes in the concrete room, cracking in my throat and transforming to a silent gush of air.

He gently sets me back onto the concrete floor, his distressed blue eyes shining with upset tears.

"You have to help me." I plead in a whispery, failing voice: it was seemingly lost with my last scream.

"Hold on," he urges, jumping to his feet and rushing towards the white shelf in the darkest corner of the room as hot tears leak from my eyes as I writhe in anguish, my dark hair spreading across the dirt-covered floor. "This will help, Mother. Trust me."

Before I can even register the fast movement from the man beside me, a sharp pain pricks at my forearm. I gasp as my eyes dart to identify the source of the stab, seeing the silver glint of a needle quickly finding my vein.

"Wait, what is th-" I hoarsely begin to protest, but my eyes suddenly roll back into my head as a rush of a cold liquid makes it way up my arm towards my shoulder.

I feel my cheek press against the concrete, struggling to keep my eyes open my head lolls to the side numbly. Everything fades into the distance as my body is lifted from the floor, my eyes forlornly locking onto the completely open doorway that would lead to my escape if I weren't paralyzed.

Consciousness becomes a foreign concept as I feel myself slipping in and out of reality. In one instant, I feel the realness of the old quilt beneath my body, but in the next I feel myself tumbling backwards into nothingness.  I catch one last glimpse of hands covered in my own blood before closing my eyes for what feels like the last time as I fall into darkness.