Page 1 of Rescued By Midnight

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ALICE - THEN

It’s the dreams of Before that are both the torment and the reprieve. I let them swallow me down, even though I know, when I wake, that everything will be so much worse.

In this dream, Brayden comes home early from work. He calls out, “Alice?” before stomping inside, not bothering to remove his work boots.

How many times have I asked him to take off his shoes on the porch? The mud ruins my clean floors. I roll my eyes before hurrying to greet him, a fresh coat of the palest lipstick on my mouth. As I walk, I dry my hands on a dishtowel I’ve embroidered.

“Did you change something?” he asks, eyes narrowing playfully as he evaluates my outfit. “Haircut? New dress? You know we can’t afford to spend more money on things like that, not if we’re going to create your dream nursery.”

“No, silly.” I point to the vase of wildflowers on the carefully polished table that stands in our entryway. “I arranged those for you.”

A whole hour of work, and he barely looks at them before lifting me up and whirling me around in a circle.

“You’re too good to me.” He speaks the words into my neck before inhaling deeply. “I don’t deserve you, Alice.”

ALICE - NOW

Waking up is hardest. My dream disappears in a trail of noxious cigarette smoke. The faint sunlight streaming through cracks in the walls holds no heat. Beyond these flimsy walls, the chickens cluck in their coop, enacting their usual power struggles.

But today is different. Today, I wake alone. The cot next to mine is empty.

My eyes scan the interior of the tiny cabin. Where is he? Some kind of hunting excursion, probably. But he always warns me before he leaves. He always checks the chain, first.

“I need to make sure you’re secure,” he’ll say gruffly, tugging on it so the metal scrapes against my ankle. I barely feel it anymore.

I look down.

There is no chain.

That can’t be right. I search the bedding, hands shaking. Where is it? Maybe I imagined it all this time. “You’ve been free all along,” I whisper, giggling to myself.

I can leave. There’s no lock on the door. Nothing to keep me inside.

Tentatively, I stand. He could be waiting just outside. This is another one of his tests. If he leaves out a knife, will I try to stab him with it? Or will I try to unlock the chain? If there’s rat poison in the cupboard, will I try to poison him?

I did. I tried all those things.

Until I stopped.

Maybe he trusts me now.

Wishful thinking.

I step up to the door, my long nightgown trailing behind me. I hate this thing, all white and lacy, like something a Victorian grandmother would wear.

“Abe?” I call.

No response. He never has told me his name, but when I started calling him Abe, he responded. I needed to call him something.

I try again. “Abe, are you there? Do you want eggs for breakfast?”

He always answers me when I ask for him. When I’m scared in the night, he’s the one to comfort me.

Is he hurt?

Better question: do I want him to be?