The Huntress Bloodlust (Pt2 )

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Chapter 4

The clock on my bedside table told me, that it was nearly half past five p.m. Under the ground it’s difficult to know what time it is or what day it was. I hadn’t heard or seen the Father for a while. When he had gone, he had taken with him the plate with the dried cheese sandwich, which probably was in the garbage can now, along with the other meals he had brought. I wondered what he was doing now. Was he already preparing a new meal for me, one I wouldn’t touch in the end? Or maybe he was sleeping, tired of my behavior? I was really hoping he would be lying in his bed busy dreaming, because I had concocted a plan to get away from here.

My strength still hadn’t returned to my body. I was weak and it was rather strenuous to put on my clothes. It took me a while and the pants had been the most difficult part. But finally I had managed it and was ready to flee. It took me a while to be able to suppress my rush. But now the moment of departure had arrived and I couldn’t hold back any longer. Hastily, I ran to the room’s door, flung it open to enter the passage, when out of nowhere Father Michael stood before me, obstructing my path. I was stunned, I just could stare at him, my mouth agape. Had he actually kept guard outside my door? Had he known I would try to escape? Was I really that easy to read or expect?

When I had digested the initial shock, I folded my arms and looked at him defiantly. “Let me go, Michael!” I demanded and tried to push myself past him. He reacted quickly, barring my way. “Step aside!” I told him. He just shook his head. Okay. If he wants to have it that way! This time I didn’t even try to walk around him. This time I dared a frontal attack. I scraped together all my strength and just ran into him. Roughly, I bounced off of him and was thrown back like a rubber ball. Father Michael seized me by the shoulders and pushed me back into my room. He quickly grabbed the doorknob, attempting to close the door, which I made a run for. But I was too late. I rattled at the door, pushed against the wood and screamed. “Let me out of here, Michael!”

Desperately I hammered against the door. I kicked it with my feet. My fingers tried to reach into the gap between the door and the frame, as if they could lever it open. But the wood remained unyielding.

Powerless, I leaned against it and started to cry. “You fucking bastard! Let me go!” I shouted and hit at the door one last time. Then I slid down to the floor, exhausted. I knew he was still there. Clearly his shadow fell through the gap of the door into my room. So he could hear me.

“How can you do this to me?” I howled at him. I cried even more. My fingers scratched on the wood and fumbled on the handle again. “Please, let me out of here. I just want my baby,” I begged one more time. But he ignored me.

“I’m sorry,” I heard him whisper through the door. Then the sounds of his steps gradually died away. I was alone again and locked up.

At some point I had fallen asleep on the floor and when I woke up, I immediately started to bang on the door again. I was still hoping I could open it somehow.

“Ada.”

The sound of his voice made me abruptly stop my useless punching and hammering.

“Let me go, Michael. Please, please, let me go,” I begged. I heard him moving on the other side of the door. Probably he turned around, so he was directly facing me.

“What’s your plan?” he asked. He gave me a moment to think. His question surprised me. I could hardly think.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked. I knew no answer to that. “There’s no place where you could live and you’ve got nothing except for what you’re wearing on your body. You can’t go.”

I nearly died because of the cold, hard facts he threw at me! He was right. I had no idea what would happen after my escape. But to be honest, I didn’t care! Only one thing was important to me: my baby.

“Please, let me out,” I begged again. I began to cry. First there were silent tears running down my cheeks. But then they changed to strange wailing sounds, which even scared me. But I couldn’t do anything about it. I just had to let all the heartbreak out.

“God, Ada,” the Father said behind the door. He sounded horrified and sad. But it still wasn’t enough to make him open the door and let me out. “Listen to me. I know all of this is hurting you. But you must not forget one thing,” I heard him say. I whimpered. I knew what he wanted to say, but I was tired of hearing it.

“You’ve got a job to do. And you cannot escape it. It’s your destiny. You cannot stop just like that. You were born as a huntress. It’s your duty. This is your life,” he said. His voice was weary, as if he was tired of reminding me.

“This is not my life. It’s a role in which I slipped into, because others wanted it. My life was what I had before all this,” I shouted bitterly.

Exhausted I crawled away from the door and over to my bed. I didn’t know what shocked me more, the fact that I would never hold my baby in my arms or that the Father was so cruel and would never let me go. That, I had understood once and for all. I would never come out of here.

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