tight and waited for excruciating death to wrest
me from this place.
Behind me Paolo’s remains hissed and
crackled. His ashes settled on my skin. I inhaled his smoke, held
the burned taste in the back of my throat. But I felt no
pain.
How quickly it happens. It
didn’t even hurt.
I opened my eyes and saw my sunlit
bicep. I turned my hands over as if I was holding the sun’s rays in
my palms. I rubbed my forearms.
“What…?”
I’m alive.
I looked at Paolo over my shoulder. He
was like an ancient statue, battered by time and the elements. You
could still make out the shape of his legs, his crooked arm
shielding his head. But he had stumps for hands and his face had
caved in.
I don’t understand.
Vampires burn in the sun. I’m not burning.
None of it made sense. Then it struck
me. Hope.
Maybe I’m not a
vampire.
This realization filled me with
elation. If true, this would rewrite my history. It would mean that
I could return to my life, to my family. That one day, this could
all be a horrible, distant memory.
I heard an abrupt crack and I turned
to see Paolo’s head fall and break apart.
I had to get out of here. The vampires
would come for me and when they saw that I had not died, they would
find some other way of killing me.
I stepped over Paolo and searched the
iron door for a handle. No knob. No way of opening it from the
inside. I tried to push it but it wouldn’t budge, and I stumbled
back, hitting Paolo’s calf. His leg below the knee crumbled like
dry earth.
Only one way
out.
I stretched my arms and my fingertips
caught the lip of a stone. I pulled my body up. It was easier than
I had expected. It was almost as if I had no weight. My toes found
footholds on the smallest edges. I ran my hands above my head until
at least one of my fingers slipped into a crevice or until I could
grab rock between my fingers and thumbs, squeezing the stone like a
vice.
This again. Climbing. It’s
like I’ve died and become Spider-Man.
I tried to be careful,
patient. I waited until I could make each move safely. One step at
a time. My chains rattled against the wall and I had to be mindful
not to step on them. You can do this. Keep
going. Don’t look down. Almost there.
I never looked back at Paolo. The sun
warmed my face as I climbed.
At the top, the roar of the
waves was deafening. I had a firm hold on a brick with my right
hand; I grabbed the metal grate with my free
hand— please, this is my only
chance —and gave it a push. The bolts gave.
Grunting, I thrust my palm up and the grate broke off. I slid it
over enough for me to climb out.
I looked around. There was nothing but
water, wind, and sky. I straddled the two-foot-thick tower wall and
blinked at the twinkling, deep blue expanse. The prison tower sat
on the edge of a cliff, away from the castle. Rolling waves
exploded against its base. A single gull floated on the wind over
the water.
I crouched on the stone lip
of the tower, my feet together, my chained hands on either side of
them just barely able to grip the tower’s edge. I was going to have
to jump out far enough to clear the rocks. Do this and you’ll be free. You’ll find a way
home.
Or I’ll smack my head on a
rock and then drown.
There wasn’t room to run
and leap. You can do this.
I steadied myself and slowly rose, my
feet apart, my legs bent, my arms outstretched.
“One,” I said. The wind muffled the
count. I hesitated a minute before resuming.
“Two.”
Three!
I squatted back on my left foot and
launched forward. For a second, only a second, I was running in the
air, my feet pedaling against the sky. Then I was plummeting. I
screamed, took a breath and screamed again. I saw the ocean rush at
me and I feared the horrible moment when we would collide. Instead,
I broke through the blue floor. My body seemed to explode on
impact, the cold arresting all my senses. I sank, my toes pointed
downward until I tucked my legs in and kicked out. I kicked again
and surfaced at
me from this place.
Behind me Paolo’s remains hissed and
crackled. His ashes settled on my skin. I inhaled his smoke, held
the burned taste in the back of my throat. But I felt no
pain.
How quickly it happens. It
didn’t even hurt.
I opened my eyes and saw my sunlit
bicep. I turned my hands over as if I was holding the sun’s rays in
my palms. I rubbed my forearms.
“What…?”
I’m alive.
I looked at Paolo over my shoulder. He
was like an ancient statue, battered by time and the elements. You
could still make out the shape of his legs, his crooked arm
shielding his head. But he had stumps for hands and his face had
caved in.
I don’t understand.
Vampires burn in the sun. I’m not burning.
None of it made sense. Then it struck
me. Hope.
Maybe I’m not a
vampire.
This realization filled me with
elation. If true, this would rewrite my history. It would mean that
I could return to my life, to my family. That one day, this could
all be a horrible, distant memory.
I heard an abrupt crack and I turned
to see Paolo’s head fall and break apart.
I had to get out of here. The vampires
would come for me and when they saw that I had not died, they would
find some other way of killing me.
I stepped over Paolo and searched the
iron door for a handle. No knob. No way of opening it from the
inside. I tried to push it but it wouldn’t budge, and I stumbled
back, hitting Paolo’s calf. His leg below the knee crumbled like
dry earth.
Only one way
out.
I stretched my arms and my fingertips
caught the lip of a stone. I pulled my body up. It was easier than
I had expected. It was almost as if I had no weight. My toes found
footholds on the smallest edges. I ran my hands above my head until
at least one of my fingers slipped into a crevice or until I could
grab rock between my fingers and thumbs, squeezing the stone like a
vice.
This again. Climbing. It’s
like I’ve died and become Spider-Man.
I tried to be careful,
patient. I waited until I could make each move safely. One step at
a time. My chains rattled against the wall and I had to be mindful
not to step on them. You can do this. Keep
going. Don’t look down. Almost there.
I never looked back at Paolo. The sun
warmed my face as I climbed.
At the top, the roar of the
waves was deafening. I had a firm hold on a brick with my right
hand; I grabbed the metal grate with my free
hand— please, this is my only
chance —and gave it a push. The bolts gave.
Grunting, I thrust my palm up and the grate broke off. I slid it
over enough for me to climb out.
I looked around. There was nothing but
water, wind, and sky. I straddled the two-foot-thick tower wall and
blinked at the twinkling, deep blue expanse. The prison tower sat
on the edge of a cliff, away from the castle. Rolling waves
exploded against its base. A single gull floated on the wind over
the water.
I crouched on the stone lip
of the tower, my feet together, my chained hands on either side of
them just barely able to grip the tower’s edge. I was going to have
to jump out far enough to clear the rocks. Do this and you’ll be free. You’ll find a way
home.
Or I’ll smack my head on a
rock and then drown.
There wasn’t room to run
and leap. You can do this.
I steadied myself and slowly rose, my
feet apart, my legs bent, my arms outstretched.
“One,” I said. The wind muffled the
count. I hesitated a minute before resuming.
“Two.”
Three!
I squatted back on my left foot and
launched forward. For a second, only a second, I was running in the
air, my feet pedaling against the sky. Then I was plummeting. I
screamed, took a breath and screamed again. I saw the ocean rush at
me and I feared the horrible moment when we would collide. Instead,
I broke through the blue floor. My body seemed to explode on
impact, the cold arresting all my senses. I sank, my toes pointed
downward until I tucked my legs in and kicked out. I kicked again
and surfaced at
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