It was winter again.  The seventh winter she had counted.  Seven years she lived in that damp dreary place.  The walls, floor, ceiling, all were of stone, gray and cold.  There was one small window high on the wall, where one lunar beam of light bled through… other than that, the room was black.  It didn’t matter; there was nothing to see anyway.  There was an iron door across from the window, but it never opened and she never left.  The small room was near freezing this time of year, but she suffered it and lingered on.

A face appeared in the window, an older boy almost twenty summers old.  He called out a name into the darkness, and his voice echoed.  It was empty, but for her.

“Sheila!”  He called.  “Sheila, are you in there?”

Out of the shadows crawled a bone thin girl.  Beneath the grime, her hair was white, her skin pale as chalk, and her eyes ice blue.  She was covered in dirt and she wore what remained of a tattered silk nightgown.  She crawled towards the wall, moving slowly and with great effort.  As she reached the wall, she pulled herself up on her feet and stared at the boy.  Her cold eyes were wide and seemed to pierce his surface and look deep into his soul.

“Sheila, I have food for you.”  The boy said as he stuffed bread and cheese into her hand.  She snatched it away and stuffed it into her ravenous mouth; she chewed desperately as if she had never eaten before.  He passed her a small cup of stale water and she drank it thankfully.  “I can’t stay too long today,” Sheila’s head quickly twisted and she stared at him with questioning eyes.  “I’m sorry.  I know you don’t like being alone, but my mother is ill.”  He said sorrowfully.  The girl looked away from him with spite.  She sat down with her back to him and finished the cheese.  “Won’t you say something?”

Sheila looked back at him with narrow eyes and hissed.  “Today will be the day…” her breathing was shallow and her chest heaved.  “…if you don’t free me, today will be the day.”

“It won’t be today… perhaps you’re wrong.”

“My eye sees, today will be the day.” She replied.

“Then I will free you, I promise.” The boy said quickly, he didn’t seem to believe himself, but he would certainly try to free the poor girl.

“Than go, go to your mother.”  The girl slunk back into the shadows, into the safety of her corner.  The boy reluctantly left her, and Sheila whispered, “Faulkner, you must keep your promise.”