Chapter 3

I woke up in our old, small cabin, the one we lived in before Ethan became "leader."

The pain in my belly was a dull, constant ache, a reminder of what I' d lost.

My skin itched terribly. Small red welts were already appearing on my arms.

The Sickness. It was fast.

I learned more about the "Founders' Pact" and the "Unity Draught" from hushed whispers of the few townswomen who still dared to speak to me, pity in their eyes.

They were Ethan' s tools, his way to become the undisputed leader of Havenwood.

The true leader, they said, gained access to a hidden "community charter."

That charter supposedly held the secret of how to leave Havenwood, a way out that was otherwise impossible.

The town was nestled in a valley, surrounded by treacherous mountains, the old mining roads collapsed or guarded.

That charter became my desperate, flickering hope.

My mind flashed back to Daisy' s rise.

She was infatuated with Ethan from the moment he started gaining influence.

At first, Ethan rejected her advances, always telling me, "You're my only one, Sarah. My queen."

Daisy, slighted and used to getting her way, used her family' s lingering influence – her father was the previous, largely ineffective mayor – to make our life harder.

Supplies Ethan needed for his "revitalization" projects would go missing. Permits would be delayed.

Whispers against him would start.

Eventually, Daisy made her offer.

If I, Sarah Miller, the educated city girl, became her personal attendant, her servant, she would use her influence to support Ethan' s bid for full leadership.

Ethan put on a show of reluctance. "My Sarah, serve her? Never."

But I saw the calculation in his eyes.

"It' s a means to an end, Ethan," I' d said, desperate for him to succeed, believing it was our success. "I can do it."

He finally agreed, "Only for a little while, my love. Until I am strong enough."

So, I served Daisy.

She tormented me with a perverse, childish cruelty.

She made me gather sharp nettles in the woods with my bare hands, "for her poultices." My hands were always raw.

She forced me to walk barefoot on hot stones freshly pulled from the mine' s old forge.

"To keep you warm, city girl," she' d titter, her breath wheezing.

I endured it all, watching Ethan gain more power, more influence.

Finally, he was named "Town Guardian," a step below full leader, but significant.

He took me back to our cabin that night.

He saw the scars on my hands, the burns on my feet.

He kissed them, his eyes filled with what I mistook for remorse.

"Soon, my love," he whispered, "soon I' ll be fully in charge. And Daisy will pay for every tear you' ve shed."

I believed him. I clung to that promise.

But Daisy' s perceived "innocence" and "frailty" soon worked their magic on Ethan.

Her cruelty towards me was reframed in his mind as "childish pranks" from a sick girl who didn't know better.

His visits to her became more frequent, "to discuss town matters," he' d say.

I remembered the quilt. My grandmother had made it for me, stitched from scraps of fabric from my childhood dresses, each square a memory. It was one of the few things I' d brought from my old life.

One day, it was gone from our bed. I found it on Daisy' s.

"She gets so cold, Sarah," Ethan said, avoiding my eyes when I confronted him. "It's just a blanket. Don't be selfish."

Just a blanket.

"Why didn't you ask me?" I' d whispered, my heart aching. It wasn' t just a blanket. It was my childhood, my grandmother' s love.

"It's a quilt, Sarah! For God's sake!" he' d snapped, suddenly impatient. "I'm trying to run this town! Can't you see the bigger picture?"

The bigger picture. It was always the bigger picture with Ethan, a picture I was slowly being erased from.

There were times, early on, when he seemed to care.

When I first fell ill in Havenwood' s harsh environment, a lung infection that scared us both, he' d worked double shifts at the town' s only grimy diner.

I tutored the local kids, what little energy I had, to help.

He used the money to buy medicine, holding me, swearing he' d always protect me.

Where was that man now?

Later, a rival faction in Havenwood, remnants of an old mining clan, threatened Ethan' s growing power.

They were brutal, suspicious of outsiders, of Ethan' s smooth talk.

They demanded a "bride" as a peace offering, a hostage to ensure Ethan kept his word on some resource-sharing agreement.

Ethan and Daisy, yes, Daisy too, knelt before me in our cabin.

They begged me to go.

"Your city smarts, Sarah," Ethan had said, his eyes pleading. "You can handle them. You can protect yourself, keep the peace."

Daisy, clinging to his arm, had nodded, "Yes, Sarah, for Havenwood. For Ethan."

Privately, Ethan told me Daisy' s support, her family' s faction, was crucial for his final step to leadership. This alliance with the rival faction, sealed by me, was the only way.

"Just for a little while, my love," he' d promised, the same empty words. "Then we can finally leave this place together. Get the charter."

I agreed. I still believed in "us," in our eventual escape.

I spent six months with that hostile faction. Six months of hell.

They despised me, the "city whore" sent to spy on them.

The abuse was constant, verbal, sometimes physical.

To stop me from running, they cut the tendons in my ankles. Not enough to cripple me forever, but enough to make every step agony for weeks, a constant, throbbing reminder of my captivity.

They threatened to brand me as an outcast if I didn' t comply with their leader' s demands.