Nefertiti

About three days pass and I haven’t seen Zane. Someone else brings me food twice a day. No one has come in and tried to torture me or ask me questions. They’ve just brought me food. What is the point of having a hostage if you’re just going to feed them?

I’ve been trying to find a way out. The window won’t break in the door, and there is absolutely know opening in the walls or ceiling. I’ve given up on trying to get out on my own. Besides, what am I supposed to do if I do get out of this room? Fight a whole army by myself, without a weapon? Yeah, that’s smart.

I run laps around the room. My legs are sore, and I haven’t trained in a long time. My body needs to exercise and be free again. I’m on my eighth lap when alarms go off. I stop running and go to the door to look out the window. I hear commotion upstairs and people yelling. Then, I hear footsteps running towards my door.

“Beatrix! Where are you?” That’s Michael’s voice.

“Michael, I’m over here.”

In a couple seconds Michael and four other men appear in front of the door.

“How are you going to get the door open? I’ve been trying this whole time,” I ask.

He holds up the ring of keys, and smirks. I smile back.

He fumbles around with the keys.

“They have them labeled,” Michael chuckles. “Dumbasses.”

He finds the right key and opens the door. I run into his arms and give him a big hug.

“We have to go,” Michael demands. “Almost the whole family is here and I don’t want lots of casualties.”

We start sprinting down the hallway. My whole family showed up to save me. I’ve never felt so loved, but guilty. All the lives we lose today is because of me. We get upstairs and the five men cover me since I don’t have a weapon.

When we get outside Michael points to a grove of trees and tells me that the cars are out there. I sprint as fast as I can towards those trees. I whizz past men and women, horses and trucks, and when I finally get to the grove of trees I stop and look behind me. A small army is running towards me. My family.

“Go Beatrix!” Michael shouts.

I turn and sprint into the trees. I see our vehicles parked along the road and I hop in the first one. Michael gets in the same car as me and we wait for the vehicle to be filled before driving away.

“Beatrix,” Michael says,

“Yes.”

He hesitates. “I prayed everyday that you would be safe.”

“Thank you, Michael.” It warms my heart that he would be so worried about me. It makes me feel so loved. Michael has been more of a dad to me than my actual dad.

***

“How did this even happen, Beatrix?” My dad yells at me. I hang my head and fight back tears.

“I’ve trained you to be smart, and strong. What were you doing? How did you pass out, and then get captured by our rivals!”

“Dad, I don’t know.” My voice shakes.

“You don’t know!” he scoffs. “You don’t know, Beatrix.” He walks over to me and forcefully grabs my chin. He brings my face up to his, forcing me to look in his eyes; the same hazel eyes as mine. “It was a mistake bringing you there. You clearly aren’t ready, and I can’t trust you anymore. Eight of our family members died because of you. You’re eighteen, and you’re useless.”

He lets go of my face and a tear escapes.

“Michael, I want intense training with her. An hour and half and no breaks. Then a five minute break and repeat. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Michael replies.

My dad leaves the room and I let myself fall apart. The tears fall down my face and I collapse in Michael’s arms.

“It’s okay,” he coos.

“I’m a failure. He’s right. You can’t trust me and it was a mistake letting me go.” I let go of him, and wipe my face. “Eight people died because of me and I don’t want that ever again.”

“I know you don’t, which is why we have to train.”

I nod my head and pull myself together.

We walk to the training facility, and he says that we are going to work on self defense. I know self defense like the back of my hand, but I obviously need it. I go through the motions with Michael.

After the longest hour and a half of my life, I finally sit down and drink some water.

“After this five minute break we are going to spar for the last hour and a half,” Michael tells me.

Great.

I sit with my water and think of those eight people that lost their lives for me. I don’t deserve that. What happened to their bodies? Are we going to have a proper funeral for them? Or is Zane and his men going to burn their bodies?

Zane.

Why didn’t he bring me my food for three days? Where did he disappear to?

No, I don’t care. I don’t care about him.

“Okay, you ready,” Michael asks, setting down his water.

“Yep,” I breathe out.