The Doll's House

112

Ruby lay dead still on the floor. She was shivering uncontrollably, but she made no attempt to move towards the bed. Her lungs burned, her throat was tight and she felt far too faint to stand.

The fight was over now, Ruby knew that. Why had she pushed him so far? Had she thought she could break him? No, she knew that her verbal assault on her captor was the last act of a desperate girl. The death throes of her resistance. She would never see her mum or dad again. Cassie or Conor. If they ever did lay eyes on her again, they would find her here, rotting in this horrible place.

Breathlessness used to panic her – a legacy of those trips to the hospital when she was young – but now she welcomed the feeling. She had never asked for much in life – had never expected much – but she hoped now that she would be granted one small mercy. Slow asphyxiation would be a blessing, a way to cheat him out of further punishments and humiliations. It would be a small victory, but a victory nevertheless.

If she could drift away, here on this floor, then maybe she would see her family again. Perhaps there was an afterlife or somewhere where she could be at peace. Surely that wasn’t impossible? She had never believed in anything like that before, but now…

But she didn’t believe it. Never had. And life had taught her not to expect happy endings. Ruby knew in her heart that she would go on suffering until the bitter end. There would be no escape for her and this place – this strange doll’s house – would be her tomb.