Sadie
Sadie knew their routine by now. It was the only reason she had not lost her sense of time yet. Or her mind. Three days. It had been three days since they arrived.
Very late in the evening, when she was just getting ready for bed. It had been a long day; they had worked since before dawn, preparing for the approaching snowstorm. They weren't sure when it'd hit them, but the signs were clear. The weather was turning, and they had to ensure they had enough provisions stored to survive for a few days.
Jake had noticed them first. Sweet Jake, her loyal husband.
They had come from the mountains, dark shadows on fast horses, screaming like madmen, their revolvers gleaming silver in the pale moonlight. Their approach left no hope that they might just be lost travelers seeking directions.
Jake had told her to hide in the cellar. No, demanded it. It was the first time he'd used that tone on her.
If she had only listened for the first goddamn time in her life, maybe things would be different now. Maybe Jake would still be alive.
Everything had happened so fast then. The cracking of wood as the door was kicked open. Jake shoving her behind him. Then, the deafening blast of a shotgun, so loud it rang painfully in her ears. The dull thud of a body as Jake hit the ground. A scream of terror, maybe her own. And cruel laughter.
She must have blacked out afterward because she was surrounded by darkness when she woke again. It had taken her a moment to get her bearings until she realized where she was and what must have happened. The realization made her sick to her stomach, and she barely made it to her hands and knees before the heaving began, and she cast her guts out. Then the tears came.
It had been three days since then.
Three days, and they showed no signs of leaving. Which was probably for the best, since she suspected they would kill her as soon as they decided they were done with this place. With her.
But would it make much difference, anyway? She was more dead than alive by now.
She wondered what she'd see if she looked at herself in the mirror now. Matted hair and broken eyes. Her body must be covered in cuts and bruises, her lips swollen, and her face marked with scratches. She was sure she had at least one broken rib, making every breath feel like shards of glass in her lungs. Her throat was dry like parchment paper.
The noises in the cabin above her grew louder as the evening went on. Ever more cruel. Ever more drunk.
Not much longer now. Not much longer until they'd remember that she was there, too-still alive, if barely. They'd throw open the trapdoor, drag her up by her hair… and… and…
She doubled over in pain, gagging and retching at the thought, but her stomach was painfully empty.
When the gagging finally seized, she leaned back against the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees. She didn´t even feel the cold anymore.
Not much longer now.
She started humming to herself, trying to drone out their voices, their sneers and taunts, and laughter.
Busy Bee. Busy Bee.
My busy little bumble bee.
It was a silly little nursery rhyme she'd made up herself. A long time ago.
Buzzin´ in bushes, buzzin´ in trees.
Buzzin´ around wherever she pleas´.
It reminded her of lazy summer afternoons, of sneaking away from her family's ranch to meet the boy she loved so desperately, so secretly. Sunshine on her face as they lay in the grass, listening to the sound of the cicadas and the hum of …
Busy Bee. Busy Bee.
My busy little bumble bee.
Busy little Bee—if that was her last thought, Sadie decided, it wouldn´t be so bad.
There's nothing so sweet. There's nothing so sweet.
As my baby bumble bee.
She woke with a start when the sound of an explosion tore through the night. No, not an explosion.
A gunshot.
And then another one, and another one amid panicked shouts and the scuffle of heavy boots on the wooden floor right above her. What was happening? Did those bastards finally drink one too many and started fighting amongst themselves? Well, good riddance. She hoped they all burned in hell.
Slowly, Sadie pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the pain shooting up her spine and down her aching muscles. Her knees buckling under her, she made her way to the trapdoor, holding onto the stairs as she climbed them one step at a time.
More shouts echoed through the night. Followed by more gunshots. It went on for what felt like ages. And then silence.
Sadie held her breath, counting … one second, then another, and then…
"Goddamm O'Driscoll Boys here? Why?" A raspy voice she hadn´t heard before broke the silence, followed by heavy footsteps somewhere by the door.
Another voice answered, farther away, muffled by the distance and raging snowstorm.
Then the first voice again: "Micah, go bring the horses closer to the house. Arthur, let's go search the cabin."
Sadie pressed herself closer against the hatch, almost not breathing, afraid the slightest noise might give her away to these … these people, whoever they were. They weren´t one of those … what did they call them? … O´Driscolls, that's for sure. Or they wouldn´t have shot at each other. Though, who they were and if she'd fare any better with them than those other bastards, Sadie wasn´t sure. And she damn well didn´t want to find out. She just hoped they'd be gone soon.
A second pair of boots arrived, once again saying something Sadie could barely make out. But this voice was … different … somehow … less tense, with a quiet self-confidence and a lack of urgency.
"Turn the place upside down, grab as many supplies as you can," the first voice spoke again. "We need the essentials: food, medicine, whiskey. O´Driscolls, I don´t believe it," he muttered.
And from the sound of it, that's when they started ransacking her home, tearing open cupboards, and rummaging through her provisions. Bloody bastards. Fury boiled in her blood, burning bright like a furnace. Sure, if these people did not belong to the O'Driscoll scum that´d killed her husband, they had probably no idea she was there and that this was her home they were robbing.
But what could she do? She was weak and starved, bloodied, and bruised, barely able to keep upright and unarmed. She couldn´t take on even one of these men in her state if she tried, let alone three. So, if she wanted to survive this, she had to keep quiet and wait for them to leave. Be, for once in her goddam life, level-headed about it.
She balled her fists, digging her bruised nails into the palms of her hands, hating the thought of having to give up any more of her home, her life… a part of herself to yet another pack of strangers—ones that sounded just as dangerous as the ones before.
"There's a big price on Colm O'Driscoll's head. Nearly as big as the one on yours."
That voice again.
But it couldn´t be.
That man died. A long time ago.
Maybe her mind was finally starting to play tricks on her.
"Wantn´ Colm dead is about the only thing me and Uncle Sam are agreen´ on," the first one, who Sadie suspected was the leader the way he was talking to the others, said. "Alright, I´m gonna start packing the horses. You head over to the stables." And then something else was said to the guy called Micah. But it was once again too muffled for Sadie to hear.
The cabin fell into silence once more, the only sound her own breathing, the drum of her heartbeat deafening in her ears. She tasted the metallic tinge of blood in her mouth, something warm and sticky on her face. Had the cut on her lips reopened? Or maybe the one over her right eyebrow?
But she didn´t have to hold on for much longer.
They were packing their horses. They were leaving.
Her body ached from exhaustion, from hunger and lack of sleep. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she realized she must be freezing, too, in only the remnants of her nightgown. The fabric was torn in multiple places, but at least it still covered most of her. Not that that had stopped those bastards from touching her, from shoving her onto the table face first and … and …
No!
She doubled over in pain from the memories of their hands on her body threatening to spill over, tears stinging her eyes. No! No! No!
Not when she was so close to it being over.
The strangers … they were leaving.
Not much longer now, until this nightmare was over. Not much longer until she could…
The trap door was torn open with a loud crack. Bright light assaulted her eyes, blinding her for a moment. A shadow loomed over her. And a voice, a cruel voice.
"Now look at what we have here."
Before she could so much as raise her arms, the man grabbed her, pulling her up by her hair so forcefully pain exploded in her head. She stumbled, fell to her knees, and was dragged up again. She screamed.
No, no, no, no, no… not now! Not again!
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, her words tumbling over one another, her tone bordering on madness.
A body slammed into her, and her hip connected with the edge of the table, bringing her off balance once more. She swung her arm, more or less blind from pain and desperation. But it hit its mark, connecting with the man's jaw. His grip loosened, and she tore herself free. Stumbling away on bare feet.
When she whirled around, she got her first good look at her attacker. He wasn´t one of the men who had been here before, but from his dirty, unkempt appearance, he might as well be. He was tall and lanky, but had a visible gut underneath his worn-out cloak. His mouth was turned into a nasty sneer underneath his unkempt mustache. A curtain of greasy blond hair framed his cruel face.
"Come now, sweetheart, don´t be shy."
He made another move for her, but hell if she let that bastard touch her again. She grabbed for … something… and threw it at him. Then another one and another one. She hauled cups and vases, cutlery, and empty bottles at him. Some of them hit their mark, some of them didn´t.
"Little Miss O'Driscoll, too bad we killed all your friends."
Her struggle only seemed to amuse him further. Spurred on by her shouts and screams, he dodged her attacks, coming ever closer. With a cruel laugh, he reached for her.
"You're a wildcat, aren´t you?" he huffed, amused. And there was glee in his eyes—a hunter enjoying the terror of its prey.
So close now. So close.
"Don´t touch me, you son of a bitch", she screamed, blindly throwing something … a candlestick at him. But missing by miles.
"Or what?"
"Micah, what the hell do you think you´re doing?" Another man appeared at the door, the one she suspected was their leader. He was a bit older and immaculately dressed, despite the raging snowstorm.
Sadie spared him a look. A second too long. Because the other one, the bastard called Micah, lunged for her again. With a triumphant jeer, his body slammed hard into hers, knocking the air out of her lungs. She screamed, struggling and fighting with everything she had left. Or she tried to. As she was thrown against the wall, the side of her head knocked painfully against the wood.
"Look what I found in the cellar, Dutch." Her attacker sneered, his breath caressing her face as he pressed his body against hers, immobilizing her. "Oh, you are a wild one, aren't you? I like that."
"Don´t touch me", she snarled.
Which only seemed to amuse him.
"Leave her alone, Micah." She heard the other one, the leader, say, but his tone was bored and with little urgency. Somewhere behind them, the cabin door opened once more, followed by heavy footsteps.
"I´m gonna kill you, you son of a bitch," she snarled.
"Sure. But let's have a look at you first." He twisted her arms behind her back roughly, and Sadie had to bite her lips hard not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her wince. Then he whirled her around, so she had to face his companions. "Well, aren´t you a pretty one," he grunted, thin lips pressed against the shell of her ear. "I suggest we see what she can do for us now, fellas, if ya know what I mean."
"That's enough now, Micah", the leader demanded.
But he had hardly spoken those words when a heavy curse ripped through the silence. "You bastard! Get your filthy hands off her."
The large figure of a man charged at them, crashing into them only half a second later. The impact sent her to the floor. Pain jolted up her body as her cracked ribs ached in protest. When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurry. Something silver gleamed in the corner of her eye.
A knife. This bastard was going to pay.
She grabbed it, stumbling up onto shaky feet. The two men were still shouting and shoving each other.
But she was done. Done caring for anything. She felt an almost inhuman scream rip from her throat as she lunged at him, knife raised and aiming for his chest…
A large body stepped in front of her, a hand wrapping around her wrist.
She tried to yank her hand free, struggling against his grip, that wasn´t painful but unyielding, anyway. "Let go of me, or I´m gonna stab you, too", she snarled, way past any sense she might still possess.
"Sadie."
"Let go!" She was losing it, working herself into a frenzy. Spiraling.
"Dear God, Sadie, look at me."
With her free hand, she clawed at him, tearing and yanking and... probably hurting herself more in the process than him. His grip around her wrist tightened. Still not painful, but forcing her to loosen hers. The knife clattered to the ground, and she was once again defenseless.
"No! No, no! Get away from me!" she screamed, her voice cracking.
"Sadie!"
This time, he let go of her. Instead, two large, warm hands came up to her face, cradling her.
"It's okay, Sadie, it's okay. You are safe; you are safe now."
That voice. Oh, that voice.
His voice.
"It's okay. It's me."
"N-no." A single word, only a whimper, as all strength left her body, and she stopped fighting. "No… no… n-no…"
"Look at me, Sadie."
And that's when her world completely turned on its axes. She knew his face—knew it like no one else's.
Blue eyes and a dangerous smile. A bit older now, maybe, a bit more weathered. And a beard that hadn´t been there when she saw him last. But still … his face.
"Arthur…" she choked.
A small smile tugged at lips she knew so well.
"No … n-no… you´re not him. You … you are not him! Get away from me!"
His eyes darkened with concern as she started fighting him again. She didn´t care. Because this…. him … it wasn´t real! It couldn´t be real!
"Sadie."
"Y-you died! You´re … you´re not real." Her vision blurred, tears finally spilling over. She didn´t care. At least she didn´t have to see him anymore. The ghost of the man she once knew. Once loved. "You´re not here. You can´t be."
"Sadie."
"Y-you died. They said you died. Five years ago."
And then everything went mercifully black.