I never thought I was claustrophobic. I was wrong. Trapped in the back of the car, enveloped in blackness, it feels like I'm suffocating.
Sofie is crying. The sound of it fills the small, dark space that is either the boot or my brain whilst horrific images of how we are going to die circle around inside my mind and every single horror movie I've seen becomes a premonition.
"Emmy..." my cousin croaks. "I'm scared."
"Me too," I reply.
"Where do you think they are taking us?" she asks.
"I don't know," I say.
She shifts beneath me, no doubt attempting to relieve some physical discomfort, before letting out a shrill and horrified shriek.
"Ew!" she screams. "One of the dead men's arms just touched me.
"It's okay, Sofie, it's okay." I try to calm her but she only becomes more hysterical.
"It's not okay," she says, her voice going up an octave. "I just touched a dead person!"
"Sofie, calm down," I tell her. "Take deep breathes and listen to me."
"What?" she whimpers, breathing rapidly.
"I know you're scared," I say. "I am too. But I need you to keep your head on, okay? Otherwise, we won't get out of this situation."
"What should we do then?" she asks, her voice cracking.
Yet another good question.
"I'll think of something," is all I can reply and Sofie lets out a despairing sob.
The drive seems to last forever; long enough for the stench of shit and urine to fill the confines of the boot as the dead men let loose the contents of their bowels.
Who knows how many hours pass until the car finally stops. I tense when the boot is flung open and Sofie gasps in a breath of fresh air untainted by death.
I look up and see Perry.
"Bonjour encore," he says cheerfully before reaching in and grabbing a hold of me by my long hair.
"Ow!" I shriek as he drags me out.
The instant he lets me go I spin around and attack him, screaming, "You motherfucker!" as I aim for his face with my fists.
The assault doesn't last long. No more than a second later I'm on my back, having been painfully thrown to the ground.
My bleary eyes stare up at Jacques, who is now standing over me.
"A feisty one, aren't you," he says, glowering.
"Fuck you," I cough.
His eyes narrow.
"I would be careful who you say that to," he warns. "It could be misinterpreted as an invitation if you know what I mean."
I don't reply.
"You should be grateful -" he continues bitterly, "- that I prolonged your life a little longer because if it had been left up to the other two, you and your little friend over there would be dead by now."
"Emmy?!" I hear Sofie scream as Perry hauls her from the boot.
I unsteadily get to my feet and attempt to go to her but a large hand prevents me.
"Let me go," I say, fighting to free my arm.
"You better start taking my advice," Jacques whispers angrily. "I am trying to help you."
"You can help me by telling me where the hell you've brought us!" I yell at him, turning to glance around at my surroundings.
Despite the darkness, I can see that we seem to be on some sort of private driveway. Perfectly manicured hedges outline the road which leads up to a massive three storey château.
"You are in the Île-de-France province," he tells me. "At Dashiell Estate; home to the Dashiell royal family."
I simply stare at him, bewildered.
"You are here...in France..." he repeats slowly. "...at the home of the Dashiell royal family."
He watches my expression as that information slowly sinks in.
France? What, like the country? The Dashiell what? What does that even mean? The royal family?
There must be some sort of mistake.
"You've...brought us to...France?" I ask quietly, my head beginning to spin.
"Yes. France," he repeats with a nod. "This is where we are."
My legs buckle beneath me and I fall.
Jacques catches me before I can hit the ground.
France? France. No, no, no...
"Emmy?! Emmy!" I hear Sofie call my name but I don't respond. I can't.
I close my eyes.
My mind has had enough and I have no choice but to let it shut down for now and hope I live long enough to wake up.
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