Chapter 5: cold

I was snuggled down under the bedcovers trying to get warm. I heard the door open and Mrs Keaton say, "Lynden, dinner's ready. Get you pyjamas and robe on and join us. It's nice and warm out here now."

I stayed where I was, refusing to answer her. After a few moments, I heard the door close.

Bastards. As soon as I got a chance, I would run away; I'd go over to that village and ring my parents, these bastards would be in trouble then.

I heard the clatter of dishes; they were eating without me. "I don't care, I don't care. I'm not hungry, I'm not."

I started to breathe more heavily and felt my eyes getting moist. "No, no," I told myself, "just stay calm, work out how to get away, stay calm."

I couldn't help it, I was becoming upset. How could they do this to me? It wasn't right, they shouldn't be allowed to do this, they shouldn't, they shouldn't.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up suddenly. I was freezing; I wasn't used to sleeping without pyjamas. It was very quiet, perhaps everybody had gone to bed. Maybe if I got the duvet off the bed and wrapped myself in it and lay down in front of the fire I could get warm. I better check that there was no one around.

I leapt out of bed and ran over to the door. Shit, it was cold.

The door was locked.

Bastards, bastards. Should I start banging the door and yelling out? Would that get a reaction? Yeah, they would probably just laugh at me.

I was so cold. I ran back to get into bed . . . but I'd still be cold, I knew I'd still be cold. Oh no, those damn pyjamas . . . if I . . . should I?

Sayyyyyy, I put them on and then make sure I wake early in the morning and then take them off again; put them back on the end of the bed so they wouldn't know I'd worn them. Ha! that way they wouldn't get any satisfaction from thinking they'd won.

The pyjamas were fleecy lined and fitted me perfectly. Stuff it, they felt good. Back into bed, so much better. I snuggled down and must have fallen back to sleep.