CHAPTER 21 - The Mercy Cage

The twenty-first chapter in our novel, in which Anne wakes up to her worst nightmare.

Anne - 1900, New York City 

**Select chapters are free!

Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 // Chapter 13// Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 // Chapter 19 // Chapter 20

    My eyes slowly blink open - oh how my head throbs! It pains me to open my eyes, and the darkness consumes me, betraying my senses as to whether I am asleep or awake. I gingerly touch my eyes, pain shoots to the back of my head. I can feel that my eyes are open, despite seeing nothing, save the dim light crawling from under what must be- a door? Where am I? 

    Oh how I wish I could stop the throb of my head - I carefully reach to touch my head. What is this? My fingers come away wet. Am I sweating or is it… it feels thick and sticky. It’s blood. Fresh blood, so I could not have been asleep for long- I stop myself from theorizing as my head throbs to even think. I try to look down at my hand, and though it is hard to make out, it must be blood. It is thick. Carefully, I press myself up to sit against the wall, and the room around me begins to spin. How in God’s name can I possibly stand? I touch my forehead once again, only to find more wet, sticky spots, which means I have a wound that is still bleeding. I need to stop the bleeding. Will I bleed out and die? 

    With more effort than it should take, I rip a piece of my hem and hold it to my head. To stop the bleeding, I have to press, but OH! How it stings, and the bruise is so painful, the headache relentless. What the hell? Wiping the cloth, my blood begins to boil. This must be solitary. Did Harriet do this? Did the nuns do this? We tried to - oh. Harriet. That bitch. God, I hate her with every fiber in my being. And the nuns - between the drowning, and the beatings, and the betrayals. Who can I trust here? Andrew has to have come for me. I long for him every night. He stars in the only good dreams I have here, when I am not continuing the waking nightmare of this hellhole in my sleep. And Florence. Florence and Rose. How will I ever know if they are ok? Some nights I dream of them at the tavern, the three of us dancing and laughing together. It is the only hope I hold onto. I must get out of here and find out if they survived that night in the dancehall. My body shakes, but I choke instead of cry. When was the last time I had water, or slept soundly? 

A soft sound stalls me- voices. I hear swift footfalls approaching and recoil into the shadow of the wall. “It must be that our little harlot has rejoined us, then?” Sister Margaret. Bitch. She looked at Sister Agatha with just as much fear as any of us girls, she can’t hide that from us. But in front of whoever stands outside that door she speaks awful loudly. A rap on the door jolts me. “ Are we awake, then?” I clear my throat to get the air started- best not test them while I sit bleeding. “Y-Yes, ma’am.” “And have you repented then?” I grit my teeth and feel tears sting my eyes. Luckily no one can see them. “YES, Sister.” “Well then we shall be happy to have you back to work today. You’ll be on the cranks with the new girl. Make sure you set a proper example, we wouldn’t want her to fall astray. Am I perfectly clear?” My jaw sets and I’m shocked my teeth don’t shatter with how tightly I grip them. “Yes, Sister.” The door opens and light and air flood the room, like a bomb blast.

PS - We are at SeriesFest this week! The Mercy Cage was selected for Pitch-A-Thon where we get to pitch and compete for prizes and to multiple networks and production companies. We couldn’t be more excited at the opportunity to bring light and awareness to these stories that have been buried in history (but with our razzle dazzle twist). For more info, or if you are in Denver, check it out here. We pitch Thursday, May 1st at 9 AM!