Chapter 17

The room was quiet. 27 sat in the armchair with the book open in her lap.

She wasn’t reading. Not really. The same paragraph had sat in front of her for several minutes. The words blurred together. Her attention kept drifting.

Forest.

Trees.

Freedom.

The familiar thoughts returned. The house had settled into evening hours. Somewhere downstairs she had heard dishes being cleaned.

Doors closing.

Voices.

The distant sounds of a life continuing beyond her room. A life she wasn’t part of.

Yet.

Her gaze moved around the room. The lamp glowed softly. The bookshelf stood against the wall. The blanket rested across her legs. The room felt different now.

Lived in.

Comfortable.

Dangerously comfortable.

27 frowned. The cage door sat partially open. As usual. She stared at it.

Then blinked.

Open.

Her eyes narrowed. Slowly, she set the book aside. The cage door remained exactly where it always was.

Closed.

But not locked.

A strange feeling crept into her stomach. 27 stood.

The room suddenly felt very still. Very quiet. She crossed toward the cage. Her pulse beginning to quicken. The metal door sat inches away.

Closed. Always closed. Always.

How many times had she seen it closed?

Hundreds?

Thousands?

She couldn’t tell.

Slowly, Very slowly. She reached forward. Her fingers wrapped around the bars. The metal felt cool. Nothing happened.

No alarm.

No shouting.

No punishment.

Just silence.

27 swallowed. Then pulled. The door swung open immediately. Her breath caught. The sound seemed impossibly loud.

The cage hadn’t been locked. Not once. The realization hit like a punch. She stood frozen.

Staring.

The open door stared back. No lock. No key. Nothing.

Her heart hammered harder. The cage had never been locked. The room spun slightly. Because if the cage hadn’t been locked, Then why had she stayed inside?

The answer came immediately. Because she thought she was supposed to.

The realization was horrifying. Her knees felt weak.

How many rules had become habits?

How many habits had become instincts?

How much of her prison lived inside her own head now?

27 stepped backwards. Then forwards. Then out. Nothing happened. She stood outside the cage.

Free to walk around the room. She stared at the door. Still nothing.

No alarms.

No Mistresses.

No consequences.

The silence felt deafening. A laugh escaped her. Small. Breathless. Almost hysterical.

She could have been doing this for days. Weeks.

The thought made her angry. Angrier than she’d been since arriving. Because it meant they’d known. Of course they had.

Viv always knew. This was another lesson. Another test. Another invisible leash. The realization only strengthened her resolve.

Enough.

Enough lessons.

Enough cages.

Enough collars.

Enough.

The forest waited. The opportunity waited. Tonight. The decision arrived suddenly.

Tonight.

Before she could lose her nerve. Before she could talk herself out of it. Before the room became any more comfortable.

27 crossed to the window. Darkness had begun settling over the property.

The gardens below were illuminated by soft landscape lights.

Beautiful. Carefully maintained.

And beyond them, The forest.

Dark.

Endless.

Promising.

Her pulse quickened. Tonight. The word echoed inside her chest.

Tonight.

Hours later, the house fell silent. Or as silent as a house this large could become.

27 waited. Then waited longer. Then longer still.

No footsteps.

No voices.

Nothing.

The lamp remained off. Moonlight spilled through the curtains. The room glowed pale silver.

Carefully, she rose. Her bare feet made no sound. The cage door remained open.

She left it behind. Crossing toward the bedroom door. For a moment she simply stood there.

Listening.

Nothing.

Then she opened it. The hallway beyond was dark. Empty.

Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain someone would hear it.

But nobody appeared. Nobody stopped her.

Slowly she stepped into the hall. Freedom suddenly felt terrifying.

The pink room disappeared behind her. Ahead lay the staircase.

The house.

The garden.

The forest.

The future.

27 moved forward. And halfway down the stairs, She froze.

At the bottom sat a laundry hamper. Overflowing with freshly folded clothes.

Probably forgotten by staff. Or waiting to be carried somewhere.

She stared. Then looked down at herself. For weeks she had worn nothing but a collar. She forgot this was her new normal. She has gotten so comfortable that it didn’t faze her. Even the looks that Mistresses would give her as their eyes ran over her body like they wanted to devour her but were restraining themselves.

It just didn’t faze her anymore. 

The sight of actual clothing felt almost unreal. Without thinking, she hurried down the remaining steps.

Her hands dug through the pile. A sweatshirt.
Too large. Perfect. Loose pajama pants. Perfect. A pair of mix match socks. Perfect.

She pulled them on immediately. The fabric brushed her skin.

Soft.

Warm.

Normal.

The sensation nearly made her cry. For the first time since arriving, she felt like a person again.

Not a pet.

Not a number.

A person.

27 closed her eyes briefly. Breathing. Remembering. Holding onto the feeling. Then she opened them.

The garden doors waited somewhere ahead. And beyond them, The forest.

Tonight.

She wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass. Not this time. Not now. Not when freedom was finally within reach.

The garden doors were unlocked. That surprised her. Then again, so had the cage.

Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps the Mistresses preferred invisible walls. The handle turned silently beneath her hand.

Cool night air immediately rushed inside.

27 stepped through. The doors closed behind her with a soft click.

For one terrible second she expected alarms.

Shouting.

Lights.

Nothing happened.

The garden stretched before her. Silver beneath the moonlight. The fountain sparkled quietly.

The flowers swayed in the breeze. Everything looked different at night.

Less beautiful.

More dangerous.

More real.

27 moved quickly. Staying close to the hedges. Keeping low. Every shadow felt alive. Every sound made her flinch.

Twigs cracking. Leaves rustling. Branches shifting overhead.

Her pulse hammered. The forest seemed impossibly far away. Even though it wasn’t. She crossed the stone paths. Passed the fountain. Passed the rows of roses. And finally reached the edge of the property.

The trees towered overhead.

Dark.

Dense.

Waiting.

For a moment she simply stared. The forest. The thing she’d been thinking about for days. The thing that had become a symbol.

A promise.

An obsession.

Then she stepped inside. Immediately the house disappeared.

The sounds changed. The air changed. Everything changed.

Branches swallowed the moonlight. The ground became uneven beneath her feet. Roots twisted through the earth. Leaves crunched softly underfoot.

She kept moving.

Faster now.

Further.

Deeper.

Her legs burned as she pumped them. She was mostly on her knees, she rarely walked if anything. But now, she could walk as much as she wanted.

The mansion vanished behind the trees. Good. The farther away it became, the better.

She didn’t stop. Not when branches scratched her arms. Not when she stumbled. Not when her lungs began burning. Freedom sat somewhere ahead. She just needed to reach it.

Minutes passed.

Or hours.

She couldn’t tell. Time had long ago stopped making sense. Eventually the forest began thinning.

Just slightly.

A clearing appeared ahead.

27 slowed. Something about it felt wrong. The space was too neat. Too organized. Not natural.

Cautiously, she stepped forward. Then froze.

Tombstones.

Dozens of them.

Small.

Simple.

Arranged in neat rows. The sight made her stomach drop. For several seconds she couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

The clearing remained silent. Moonlight illuminated pale stone.

Names.

Each marker had a name. And beneath each name,  A number.

27’s pulse thundered. Slowly she approached the nearest one.

Charlotte.

#12

The next.

Madeline.

#4

Another.

Grace.

#31

Another.

Emily.

#8

Names.

Numbers.

Names.

Numbers.

The pattern continued endlessly. Twenty. Thirty. Maybe more. The air felt suddenly colder.

27 backed away.

No.

No.

No.

The Mistresses had said there were others. Previous pets. She had imagined people who left. People who stayed. People with stories. People with lives.

Not this.

The clearing stretched around her. A graveyard hidden deep inside the forest. A graveyard filled with numbered women.

The realization hit like ice water. She looked down. At herself.

At the collar around her neck. At the number she’d become. 27.   

A horrible thought surfaced. What if there was already a stone waiting for her?

What if this had always been the ending? What if every privilege,

The room.

The book.

The garden.

The breakfasts.

The kindness.

What if it all led here? Fear surged through her. Raw. Primal. Stronger than anything she’d felt since arriving.

Good.

For the first time in weeks, it burned through the fog. Burned through the confusion. Burned through the attachment.

She remembered the library. The pink room.

Viv.

Elara.

Their smiles.

Their touches.

The life they offered.

For a moment she had almost started seeing it. Almost started imagining herself there. The graveyard destroyed that.

Whatever questions remained. Whatever doubts remained. Whatever comfort remained.

Gone.

27 turned. And ran.

Not toward the house. Away from it. Away from everything. Branches whipped against her face. Roots caught her feet. Her lungs screamed.

She didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. The forest seemed endless.

But she kept moving. One foot. Then another. Then another.

Hours passed. Or maybe less.

The darkness slowly began changing. Black became gray. Gray became blue. Dawn approached.

And eventually,  The trees ended.

27 stumbled out of the forest. A road stretched before her.

Real.

Paved.

Empty.

For a moment she simply stared. Unable to believe it.

No walls.

No gates.

No hedges.

No mansion.

No Mistresses.

Just a road. A road leading somewhere.

Anywhere. Her knees nearly gave out. She’d done it. She’d actually done it.

The collar still rested around her neck. The oversized clothes still hung from her frame. The memories of the house still haunted her.

But she was out.

The mansion existed somewhere far behind her. Hidden beyond miles of trees. And for the first time since becoming 27, No one was holding the leash.

As the sun finally broke over the horizon, she took a shaky breath. Then another. And started walking. Forward. Away.

Toward whatever remained of the life she’d lost. Toward whatever name belonged to her.

Toward freedom.
——-
(DUN DUN DUN. The cemetery was a good add right??)