Page 12 of Saved By the Headless Horseman
The Headless Horseman had not expected her to wail like that.Nor had he expected Scarlett to push herself so hard against the bars that she nearly shredded herself to get to the body.If she had recoiled at the sight, that would’ve been understandable.Instead, she reached towards it as if her life demanded it.Tried to follow it into the darkness.
Even he had felt her deep anguish.It had threatened his resolve.He had not lied to her; this was only the beginning.What was to come next would be much worse.He would lay her lies before her and demand answers.
Had she admitted to everything during this first viewing, he would’ve killed her and ended this cruel game.Even now, as he thinks it, he calls himself a liar.Ending her won’t be easy, and after tonight, there is a voice nagging at him.
It urges him to reconsider his plan.What if he has been wrong about her?What if she is blameless in all of this—an innocent victim just like him?Could she have been ignorant of her father’s plot?
Thinking back to that night is difficult, but he remembers it all with stark clarity.Her father had said she wished to be free of him.That he was keeping her from the advantageous marriage she hoped for.Earl Richard Crest had handed him the letter as proof, and indeed, that is what her words entailed.
At the time, it had seemed out of character for her, but there was no mistaking her penmanship.After all, he had received dozens of her love letters over the years.Her script was as familiar as his own.
That infernal note burned in his pocket.He should reread it.Memorize her words again so there is no wavering on what he has to do.It will burn away whatever misplaced sympathy he is feeling towards her.
She just needs to be pushed harder—tormented further.Then she will buckle and admit to her hand in the plot.He will have her confession before he takes her life.He vows this to himself.The only contrition she feels is guilt-based.She is just as responsible as the rest of them.
She has to be.
9
SCARLETT
The fog comes again the next night.
More forbidding mist encases me.I don’t know what to expect.I want to close my eyes and curl in on myself, but I cannot seem to look away.I try to pull myself from the floor.The days spent in this cell are taking a toll on my body.
My muscles are stiff like the stone floor I’ve been resting on.Blood flows thickly to my limbs from lack of movement.I do nothing but recline against the hard wall and wait for another short bout of sleep to take me.Now, as the fog curls over the metal bars of my cell, I wait with bated breath.My heart pounds in my chest.If there is even the slightest chance of seeing Krane again—no matter the form—I will not miss a second of it.
I had given in and eaten some of the bread throughout the day.Though I had not wanted to, I needed to keep my wits about me.There was a reason the creature was showing me these things.To torture me, yes, but I can’t shake the feeling that there is more I’m meant to understand.
Throughout my solitary day, my mind had wandered.It didn’t take me long to arrive at the idea that Krane was somehow trapped here.If this creature had his memories, perhaps he had taken his soul, possessed it, and twisted these memories to hurt me.If there was even a slight chance that my captor was hurting Krane, I had to try to free him.
If I can save him, then maybe I’ll know where to meet his soul when my time comes.Maybe?—
Through the fog, a figure appears, and I gasp.It is not Krane this time.It’s me.Younger by nearly a decade and healthy.My long hair sparkles brilliantly even in the dark dungeon.The green dress I'm wearing molds to every curve.Pale blue eyes dance with amusement as I cast a look over my shoulder.Pink dusts both of my round cheeks.
“Come,” young me urges, picking up my green skirt.
She races away in a fit of giggles before a new figure appears.A younger Krane.In the flesh, yet so far away.I crawl towards him on the stone floor.Pulling myself up, the floor cuts into the soles of my feet.I throw myself against the bars, hoping they give way.My struggle is futile.
Krane looks towards me.His verdant eyes sparkle with life.Freckles scratch along his cheeks as he laughs.Shaking his head, tendrils of reddish-brown hair cling to his ears in soft waves.The color in his face is a far cry from how he appeared the night before.
I reach out towards him, but he cannot see me.He glances up towards the ceiling in exasperation before turning towards where the younger me disappeared.
My heart aches at how handsome he is.I can hardly breathe at the sight of him alive.Dozens of memories swirl in my mind with him at the center of them all.My heart reaches for him.The frayed tendrils of my soul long to be entwined with his again.
The smell of dank blots out any trace of his familiar cinnamon and clove scent.I bought the spicy soap for him when our family would go into town.I’d smell it on my skin after I’d returned to my room after our nights together.I’d hate having to bathe the next morning, knowing his scent would be wiped from me.
This is torture to watch, but if he is trapped here by the creature, I will free him.He has already suffered enough for me.This time, I will be there to save him.
Krane pushes through the fog, giving chase to the younger me.They turn and face each other, their fronts nearly brushing.
“We need to head back.Your father will be looking for you.”
Young Scarlett rolls her eyes—ever the pretty little fool.
“Stop worrying.We’re almost there.”
She turns and races into the fog.Krane curses and rushes after her, both their bodies disappearing into the dark.My heart lifts at the sight of us—how free we both were.It’s torture to watch this knowing how it ultimately ends.If I could warn them now to keep running and never go back, I would.
