Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

but Emily didn't change her hateful expression.
    "It's been decided," she said. "That's final. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold. Here," she said, throwing a packet of papers onto my bed. "Papa wants you to check all these figures carefully." She pivoted and marched out of my room, locking the door behind her.
    I would have thought I had no, tears left, that I had cried so much in my short life I had sobbed enough for a lifetime, but being locked away from the only soft and loving person I had any contact with anymore was too much. I didn't care that Mamma confused me with my real mother. She still smiled and spoke to me softly. She still wanted to hold my hand and talk about nice things, pretty things, pleasant things. She was the only bright color left in a world of dark, drab, and dull shades. Sitting beside her, even while she slept, soothed and comforted me and helped me get through the rest of my horrid day.
    I ate my breakfast and cried. Now time would go much slower. Every minute would be more like an hour, every hour more like a day. I didn't care to read another word, weave another stitch or even glance at Papa's bookkeeping. All I did was sit by my window and watch the world outside.
    How strong my little sister Eugenia had been, I thought. This was the way she lived most of her short life and yet she had been able to maintain some happiness and hope. It was only my memories of her and her excitement over everything I did and described to her that sustained me through the next few days and weeks.
    During the last week of my seventh month of my pregnancy, I grew bigger and gained the most weight. At times I found it difficult to breathe. I could feel the baby pushing up. It took more effort to rise every morning and move about my small room. Cleaning and polishing, even sitting for long periods, tired me quickly. One afternoon when Emily had come to take away the lunch-dishes, she criticized me for being too lazy and getting too fat.
    "It's not the baby who's demanding these extra portions anymore; it's you. Look at your face. Look at your arms!"
    "Well, what do you expect?" I snapped back at her. "You and Papa won't let me go out. You won't let me do any real exercise."
    "It's the way it has to be," Emily declared, but after she left, I finally decided it wasn't the way it had to be. I was determined to get out, even if only for a little while.
    I went to the door and studied the lock. Then I fetched a nail file and returned. Slowly, I tried to get the tooth of the lock back just enough so that when I tugged on the door, it would clear its slot and the door would open. It took me nearly an hour, almost getting it and then failing a dozen times, but I didn't give up until I finally tugged and felt the door come toward me.
    For a moment I didn't know what to do with my newly-found emancipation. I just stood there in the open doorway, gaping out at the corridor. Before I stepped out, I gazed first to the right and then to the left to be sure the way was clear. Once out of my room, without Emily escorting me and confining me to a certain direction and path, I felt giddy. Every step, every corner of the house I confronted, every old picture, every window seemed new and exciting. I went directly to the top of the stairway and gazed down at the lobby and entryway that had only been a memory these past months.
    The house was exceedingly quiet, I thought. All I could hear was the ticktock of the grandfather clock. Then I recalled that so many of our servants were gone, including Tottie. Was Papa down in his office working at his desk? Where was Emily? I feared she would pop out at me from any of a dozen dark corners. For a moment I considered retreating to my bedroom, but my defiance and anger grew and gave me the courage to continue. I stepped down the stairs gingerly, pausing after the slightest creak to be sure no one had heard.
    At the bottom of the stairway, I paused again and waited. I thought I heard some sounds coming from the kitchen, but other than that and the grandfather clock, all was quiet. I noticed that there was no light streaming out of Papa's office. Most of the downstairs rooms were very dark. Still tiptoeing, I made my way to the front door.
    When my hand felt the door knob, I experienced a surge of electric excitement. In moments I would be out of the house and in the daylight. I would feel the warm spring sun all over me. I knew I would risk being spotted in my pregnant condition,