fashion,
insisting I brush my teeth on account of how much sugar I’d
consumed. It was a surreal experience to be ordered to clean my
teeth before bed, barely an hour after being chased through a
forest by soldiers with guns.
Yet as soon as my head hit the pillow I
fell asleep, and I didn’t wake until morning.
Chapter Four
Amanda Stanton
The second I awoke, I had a feeling I
couldn't remember something, something important. For a few
blissful moments I lay there, warm in bed as I tried to remember
what it was I’d forgotten. Was I meant to call my great-aunt today?
Was there a fair in the local village? Had I organized to meet a
friend in town?
Then in a snap, I remembered everything. I
had no idea how I could have forgotten; it was the only night of my
life that had involved so much action, so many guns, and so many
people out to capture me.
I lay in bed, flashes of last night chasing
through my mind as I curled up, clutched the cushions beside me,
and I tried not to fall apart.
It wasn't too long until Elizabeth called
me down to breakfast. The smell of freshly-cooked pancakes with
apple and blueberry sauce wafted up the stairs, and it was enough
to see me lift my face from the warm press of my pillow. If there
was one thing that could distract me from my paranoid thoughts, it
was food.
Elizabeth called me down stairs again, her
sophisticated accent tinkling like a bell, worlds apart from the
guttural screams and shouts of last night. From her tone to the
pleasant aroma in the air, I was starting to believe that last
night had been nothing more than a nightmare.
As I padded out of bed, hair a mess at the
top of my head, I caught a glance of my wrists and my feet: they
were covered in scratches, bruises, and gouge marks. Nightmares, no
matter how harsh and frightening, stayed in your mind.
I winced as I walked down the long stairs
that led to the bottom floor and the kitchen below. Only the smell
of freshly-cooked pancakes kept me going.
If you'd asked me several weeks ago, before
heavily-armed men had kicked down my door and chased me through the
woods, I would have told you I was an independent, emotionally
stable, tough woman. I was used to mucking out the horse stables, I
was used to changing the tires on my car when I got a flat, I was
even used to fixing appliances when they broke. My great-uncle, for
all his mad eccentricities, had taught me a lot. Still, no matter
how much he’d taught me, last night had taught me something new:
all it took was a couple of pairs of scuffed army boots, a couple
of uncocked machine guns, and a smattering of balaclava-wearing bad
guys, and I could and would be reduced to tears.
The thought of my old great-uncle, and the
stories he'd told me as I sat by his knee in his library, bolstered
me, and I didn’t fall down the stairs in a sobbing mess. Instead I
heaved my way to the kitchen, nose still sniffing the air
appreciatively, stomach gently rumbling, heart calming for the
first time since I’d woken.
Elizabeth nodded at me as I walked into
the kitchen, a weird apron tied loosely over her even weirder
pajamas. “I have made pancakes,” she announced as she shepherded me
to the kitchen bench and placed a titanic stack of pancakes before
me, a dark purple sauce oozing over them. One whiff of it was
enough to give me cavities, but I helped myself to a stack of four
nonetheless.
“ I called my lawyer, dear,” she nodded
earnestly, “He’s going to be here any moment. We’re going to get
this sorted; we’re going to get this sorted today,” she said with
an almost military nod. Despite Elizabeth's colorful, erratic
personality, when she wanted something done she would jolly well do
it.
Now I had something to smile about: I had
someone by my side, somebody formidable, and somebody endearingly
floral.
“ I'm in my pajamas,” I said through a
massive bite, sauce dripping down my chin, “Shouldn't I
change?”
Elizabeth shook her head vehemently. “You
have
Learning to Kill: Stories