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Authors: Amanda Dacyczyn

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BOOK: God Save the Queen
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Chapter 34

Fights

 

             
The thing I remember most about my imprisonment, the one thing that still haunts my dreams, was the banging.

I would
wake up each morning with a thunderous pounding on my door. This was my wake-up call. Of course, there was no reason to wake me up at all, because I wasn’t going anywhere, and I wouldn’t get any food for hours. It was just to ensure that my day got off to rotten start, and no one did that better than LaGard and his twisted niece.

             
The door-banging continued throughout the day, and not always as predictable intervals. Once it started, I had to immediately “show myself” by standing a safe distance against the far wall, directly facing the door-slot. The slot would then open as LaGard or Lynette would peer inside to confirm I was at a safe distance. Then and only then would the door open and Lynette would shove my bowl of watered-down cabbage soup and glass of dirty water into the room.

             
There was a lot of for-no-reason banging, too, just so my captors they could check to make sure I wasn’t up to anything. And anything could mean
anything.

             
“Why are you out of breath?”
LaGard shouted as he eyed me suspiciously through the door-slot.

             
“I was…just doing some calisthenics.”

             
“No calisthenics!”

             
He was worried I might overpower him, I supposed. It just as well, because I was soon too weak from lack of nourishment to keep exercising.

             
“What took you so long?”
he shouted when I didn’t get into my back-to-the-wall position fast enough.

             
“I was taking a nap.”

“No napping!”

              Sitting on my bed and staring at the wall were also forbidden. Not doing anything was forbidden. The problem was,
there was nothing to do.

             
Oh, what I would have given for something to read.
Anything.
I couldn’t write, either, because they wouldn’t allow me to have a pen and paper. I’d try to listen to the TV news through the door, but that was strictly forbidden. I wondered how long it would be before I’d be caught listening at the door, or even watching TV through the keyhole, as I sometimes did. After maybe a week into my imprisonment, I was watching a news special about my life leading up to my disappearance.

             
“At the age of five, after losing her parents, little Anya sank into a slight state of depression, not returning to school for two months.”
The scene cut to my friends Sadie and Maggie walking down the hallway of my old school as the narrator continued.
“It was her friends who helped her later in life. Maggie Purstion and Sadie McTabbith were able to help the future empress through all of her difficulties in life…”

             
I stopped watching and rested my head against the door. Maggie and Sadie… how could I forget them? They were still my friends, no matter what part of the world I was in. They were now part of this whole ordeal just for being associated with me. I had pulled them into the limelight. I wondered how they felt about this intrusion into their lives. I hoped they didn’t mind, and maybe they even liked being in the spotlight for a moment. I knew that they had to be slightly intimidated by the crush of media that now infested Littleton. They must have been shocked when they first heard of my capture. How much did they care, though? The last time I checked in, Maggie was still slightly miffed with me even though I’d written her chatty letters (deliberately
not
on the official palace stationary) and invited her to the coronation ball. But when Sadie finally got her to pick up the phone, Maggie acted like I was the last person she wanted to talk to. Apparently being forced to leave my hometown and assume a title and crown made me somehow “superior,” a show-off, a snob.

             
My thoughts vanished when I heard LaGard and Lynette raising their voices. Having another argument, it sounded like. The only thing I heard clearly was LaGard shouting,
“Because I told you to, that’s why! It’s your turn, damn it! You bring her dinner!”

             
I heard the scraping of Lynette’s chair on the floor as she got up, and I immediately scrambled to the far wall for inspection so that I’d already be there when she banged on the door. The argument I’d overheard told me that this wasn’t the day to provoke her. 

             
Normally Lynette would just set my soup bowl and water glass on the floor near the door. But not today. After checking me out through the door-slot, she opened the door and started to set my bowl and glass on the floor as usual, but stopped mid-bend and entered the room instead, locking the door behind her. There was something ominous in the way she stood silent at the door much longer than seemed necessary, as if she was devising a plan, or maybe just waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of my room. Then she walked toward me slowly, and as she drew closer I could see the hint of a creepy smile on her face. She stopped in the middle of the room and held out the bowl to me, tempting me to come and get it. What was I, a barnyard animal?

             
I approached her, and as I reached for the bowl, she pulled it back and laughed, “Well, well, well. Look who’s become the one with the power.”

I
said nothing, just waited until she held out the bowl again. She did, and then pulled it back again. ”You know,” she went on, “it’s funny how when you’re not wearing all your flashy jewelry and crown, you look quite sad.” Then she looked me up and down. “And, I might add, very, very common. Ugly, even.” She looked down at my left leg, which had been causing me to limp lately. “You hobble, you know. It’s very unbecoming for a queen or tsarina or empress--whatever the hell you’re supposed to be.” She presented the bowl to me again. “Why do you hobble, Your Majesty?” She made sure to over-emphasize the last two words, just in case the sarcasm wasn’t obvious.

             
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said as I reached for the bowl again, only to watch her withdraw it again. “Probably from that time you kicked me. I forget which time, though.”

             
Lynette smiled. “Oh yes! I remember. It’s when we dragged you up the stairs. Your legs were flapping around like a rag doll.” She began to laugh in a fit. It was sick how she thought someone’s pain was funny.

             
I put my hand out again and sighed, “Can I just have my food?”

             
Lynette faked a shocked face. “Oh yes, I completely forgot!” Then she slowly brought the bowl up to her face and spit in it. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to me
.

             
I looked at her in disbelief. I don’t care where you’re from; no self-respecting person does that. “I’m not eating that. You just spat in it.”

             
Lynette’s face became serious. “Oh, you
are
going to eat it.”

             
“No I’m not. That’s disgust…
Oomph!

             
I never saw it coming: Lynette’s fist smashed into my stomach with such force that I staggered backwards. “And you’re a terrible dancer, too,” she said, grinning as I collapsed onto the floor. “Get up. Up! Up!” she said, but I was still gasping, trying to restore the wind she had knocked out of my lungs.

When
I finally got back to my feet, she was coolly examining her nails. “Your dinner’s getting cold, Your Majesty.”

             
”I’m not eating that! Get me another--”

Whaaap!
She slapped me across the face so hard, it felt like I was electrocuted. I fell, landing on my hands and knees. But my captor wasn’t done with me yet. She fell on top of me, driving her elbow into my back with such tremendous force that I nearly passed out. As I lay there writhing in pain, I heard the clicking her heels as she walked around me. I let out a groan of pain.

             
“Oh yes, I forgot. You have a bad leg.” She bent over me and asked softy, “Which one was it again, sweetie… this one?”

             
I felt a searing pain in my thigh as Lynette dug one of her heels into it. I screamed, writhing helplessly on the floor and unable to move my leg away. “Stop… please stop!” I cried, trying to reach for her heel to push it away, but only to feel my dress wet from the blood that was now escaping my leg.

             
Lynette laughed and then began to walk away. I pulled myself to my knees and had to rest before getting to my feet--if I could. I was beyond rage. There was no way that I was ever going to let her win a fight. Ever. She was worthless and didn’t deserve victory. I groaned slightly as I began to stand, the pain rocketing to my leg. Lynette heard this and turned around.             

             
“Oh, this is priceless. Look at you, little empress. Are you going to fight me?” she said in a little baby-doll voice as she walked back toward me.

             
I fought to hold my balance as she came closer. With tremendous effort I pulled myself to my full height and growled, “You… cut… my leg.”

             
Lynette shrieked with laughter and she took one last step. “All right, I can see that you’re upset. I know what, I’ll make it up to you. Give me your best shot.”

             
“Wha-at?” I asked weakly.

             
“And don’t hold back. Let’s see what you’ve got. Though from the looks of you, it can’t be much.”

As she
stood right in front of me, I thought to myself,
She’s right.
The starvation diet they had me on had reduced me to a mere shadow of myself. But then I thought,
Mind over matter.
I’m as strong as I think I am.
Well, one thing was for sure: I’d never get another opportunity like this again. I looked up at Lynette’s exposed belly and smiled to myself. Then I wound up.

             
My fist hit her with such force, I surprised myself. She doubled over so fast that her belly swallowed my fist.
Not bad,
I thought. But if I didn’t act fast, she’d soon give it back to me in spades. She was still hunched over, her hair hanging straight down. Well, that was just an open invitation. I grabbed a great big handful of that unruly mop to hold her in place, and after setting my bad leg down for leverage, I raised my good leg and gave her a World Cup-worthy kick that sent her flying into the wall. She hit the floor with a thud, and I saw a little trail of blood dribble from the left side of her forehead.

             
I staggered over to her limp body and kicked it with my good leg. “That’s for getting blood on my dress,” I said to her. ”Bitch.”

             
Then I walked with more difficulty to the door and banged on it with the palm of my hand. I was surprised that LaGard hadn’t come before this; surely he had heard the ruckus we were making in the next room. Or had he been listening all along, possibly enjoying it? I kept banging until he couldn’t ignore it any longer. The door-slot finally opened and his eyes appeared, flashing his irritation.

             
“What is it?” he shouted at me.

             
“You might want to come and get Lynette,” I said simply.

             
He looked at me as though I was an idiot. “Why would I do that?”

             
I shrugged. “Because she’s knocked out in the corner of my room, and I don’t want her in here.”

             
“Why is she … knocked out?” he asked, his voice cracking a bit.

             
“Um, because she cut my leg and said I could give her my best shot, so I punched her in the stomach and threw her into the wall. She’s bleeding too.”

             
LaGard quickly squinted into the dim recesses of my room, and must have seen the body slumped against the wall. Then he looked at me while contemplating the situation.

             
“Very well,” he said at last. “Drag her over here.”

             
“I’m really in no shape to do that …”

             
“Bring her here
now!
” he yelled through the small opening.

             
I sighed heavily as I once again hobbled over to where Lynette was lying. I grabbed onto one of her arms and pulled with all my might, my good leg holding me down. I was able to move her inches at a time but it was work. Although she looked like a frail little thing, Lynette was much heavier than I had presumed. At last I managed to drag her over to the door.

             
“There. I put… put her by… the door.” I was breathing raggedly. My body was so undernourished that dragging Lynette’s carcass across the room nearly did me in.

BOOK: God Save the Queen
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