IN THE SUN
Chapter 14: Darkness
I fell asleep easily and slept wonderfully. That is, until about three. It wasn't that someone was being noisy, or I needed to pee, I just woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. I gave it twenty minutes before sliding on my flip-flops and stepping out into the lit hallway, being careful not to wake Nick, who was asleep in the next bed. I decided to step into the library and do some historical reading about the hotel we were staying at. I was a little nervous about going around by myself at the hotel, but I figured I'd be okay. There was a lady working the front desk, and as far as tenants from the hotel were concerned, I only ever saw two. Finding an old photo album, I pulled it out and leaned against the bookshelf, flipping gently through the pages. Apparently, the family that lived here owned slaves and horses; it was a journal, as well. The plantation was owned by a man named Paul Browning. He was a man who had the reputation for being a very stern and sometimes nasty slave owner. He was married to a young French woman named Margaret Rachelle in 1858. Then I got to the pictures.
Paul Browning, ca 1861
The plantation after construction
Their first horse
A escaped slave recaptured. Browning was never kind to his slaves. The picture was macabre. The poor man who'd tried to escape was tied at the wrists and on his knees in front of Browning, who had a cat-of-nine-tails in one hand and a triumphant grin on the other. "Ugh," I made a face. "Such a gentleman."
Browning's punishment for going against him. It was a photograph of a young slave no older than thirty hung by the neck in the old oak out back, and as I was about to turn the page, I felt something snap. I looked at the slave again. His face.... why did I know him? It hit me then, and I had to clutch the chair next to me to keep from going to my knees.
It was Elijah.
I forced myself to turn to the next photograph, a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes.
Margaret Rachelle Browning, ca 1864
My heart slammed to a halt and my hand flew to my mouth. "Oh, Jesus!"
It was me.
I started to read through the book, furiously looking for some kind of clue as to what happened.
"In eighteen-sixty-five, Paul Browning came home from a two week tour of Georgia for new slaves to find Margaret at home and in bed with one of their slaves. The slave was immediately escorted outside and lynched; Margaret was forced to watch from their bedroom window, and when that was finished, he beat and strangled her to death."
I could see it as if it were all happening in front of me, as if I were Margaret. I saw it like it was a memory of my own. The feeling of anguish at having to watch the man I love hang from the oak out back. The feeling of excruciating fear as the man I hated beat me. It was more than I could bear. I was sobbing uncontrollably when I looked up and realized I was no longer in the library.
I was in the courtyard, directly below the old oak where Elijah had died. I could see the hotel in front of me, lights burning brightly. I looked to my left and right and saw I was alone. I was so terrified, I was certain I would throw up at any second. And that's when two things happened almost at once: the ground beneath me began to tremble. It gave a shudder and that's when I saw Nick, sprinting down the hall and screeching to a halt at the French doors that were swung open wide. His face was white as a sheet.
"ELIZABETH, NO!"
"Nick?" My tiny voice shook nearly as hard as the rest of me.
I was falling, and fast. The air in front of me turned cold; my breath billowed out in front of me in gasps. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. There was a sound behind me, and I prayed to God it was another guest. I turned to find I was visually alone, although I knew better. It was him. It was Browning. I knew it, and there was nothing I could do about it. So I screamed. I screamed like I'd never screamed before in my life. I could feel my own blood curdle in my veins, and within a fraction of a second, he had me by the throat. He came at me so fast and so hard that he actually lifted me up a good three or four feet off the ground. I kicked my feet furiously, trying to make contact, even though I knew it was pointless. I couldn't breathe as his frigid hands tightened around my neck. And that's when he threw me. Hard. Right across the courtyard and into one of the magnolia trees. I slammed into it with such force, I was shocked when I didn't hear anything break.
"NICK!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "HELP ME!" I looked up to see him sprinting towards me, and I reached out for him, but he was catapulted across the courtyard as if he had been thrown. "NO!" I screamed, sobbing. "You leave him alone--" Browning was at my side in an instant as I tried to get up, and he kicked me back down. There was a ripping sound as I felt wounds blossoming open on my back. He had his cat-of-nine-tails with him. He hit me again and again, harder and harder, and I screamed myself raw. The pain was excruciating. Finally, I was up in the air again and a hand slammed down over my face as I was sent flying yet once again. The fear was blinding. I hadn't ever been that scared in all my life. I screamed in pain as I tumbled into the fountain. Looking up, I didn't need to see him to know he was coming at me again. I put my arms up to shield me from my attacker, even though I knew it would be useless. No, please! I tried to beg, but terror had a strong hold on me, too.
Browning lifted me into the air again, and I waited for the throw..... when, with a blink, he was gone. I went tumbling down onto the stones.
Writhing, the screams were silent now because I was sobbing so hard. Terror and pain burned white-hot through my veins as the whole world spun around me. Sucking in a lungful of air, I screamed again and was actually able to produce sound.
"NIIIIICK!!"
"Elizabeth! Oh God oh God oh God....." Nick crouched down next to me and pulled me up into his arms. I screamed again when his hands reached my back; when he took it away, it was covered with blood. Everything hurt. My back, my head, my neck, my arms, my legs, my stomach.... "Liza, sweetheart," Nick shook. "Look at me. For the love of God, look at me!" I gazed up into his eyes, and I realized then it was the first time I'd ever seen Nick cry. "Please, baby," he sobbed. "Say something!"
"Help me!" I wept.
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MUSIC:
This was a very intense chapter to write, for me, for obvious reasons. The song "Darkness" by Peter Gabriel was a HUGE inspiration for not just the attack sequence, but just the general conversation of fear that took place in the previous chapter. The song is about the need to not let your fears own you; it's a powerful and frightening song, powerful and frightening for a reason-- Gabriel perfectly conveys the message of YOU owning your fears, and not the other way across, although there are times in which it cannot be helped....