Free Eye of Newt by Dmytry Karpov

That Morning
    Hands like vellum caressed Annabel’s face. "I will return tomorrow." His smile made her turn away to hide the revulsion of his touch. If only he never came back—then this place would be bearable.
    A cold wind blew through the room, pushing crumpled papers off the wooden desk and unto the red carpet. Annabel picked them up, and the cold touched her spine. Stupid window. She went over to the white walls and closed it. Metal bars peered at her through the glass.
    She spoke to him without turning her head, a practiced obsequiousness in her voice. “My love, while you are gone, may I have visitors?”
    Newt chuckled and stroked his straw thin beard. Barely anything remained of his gray hair, unlike his overgrown eyebrows. “Why do you need those? Have I not enough books to keep you company?”
    Dozens of shelves loomed over the fireplace. They went all the way up to the ceiling, so high Annabel couldn’t reach many of the books. She stroked the leather spines of Shakespeare's Hamlet and Macbeth, her favorites. The schemes and plots made her grin.
    Annabel straightened her yellow dress and sat down under a painting of a ship in a storm. She would flatter the old creep. But she would do it with words alone. “Sometimes it is nice to have the company of people. And, without you, I get so lonely.”
    Newt patted the black eye patch over his eye. “I am always with you, my dear.” He turned toward the door.
    The whine slipped from her lips. “But I haven’t seen my friends for so long." She struggled to regain her submissive posture. "They are nothing compared to your company, but, maybe, they will make my longing for you more… bearable.”
    Newt scowled, and the wrinkles on his face drew together. His blue eye dulled and his pointy chin stretched tight. That face might have been handsome once, but now it turned to hate. “No.” His voice dropped low with barely concealed rage. “I am all you need. If you are not happy, we will discuss it when I return.”
    “Please, just this once. I’ll—”
    “No!” Newt walked across the room. His cane tapped on the floor. He reached Annabel and lifted her by the collar, tearing a whole through the flowers sewn into the cheerful fabric. “Who is it you want to see so badly? Who?” Spit sprayed from his purple lips. The smell of wine hit her. “Is it a man?”
    Annabel shook her head. She had driven him too far. Now, it would not end well. “No. I’m sorry. I will not ask again.”
    Newt sucked the air and growled. He let go of Annabel and slapped her across the face.
    Pain exploded in her cheek and she fell to the floor, sobbing. “I’m sorry… my love. I will entertain myself while you are gone. I will think of only you.”
    Newt nodded and strutted out of the house.
    As soon as he was out of earshot, Annabel rolled onto her back and screamed. Why must he always ruin everything? Why couldn’t she have ended up with someone else? Her father had insisted on Newt. “He is wealthy,” he said. “And you’ll have everything.” Annabel had no choice, and so she tried to believe.
    At first, she adored the necklaces and fancy dresses, the house and the garden. They were all so… new, so marvelous—like treasures a princess would have. But eventually, she began to want what she had left behind: gossiping with Mary, talking to her father, going to the marketplace and saying hi to the baker. Those simple moments, those moments and interactions she was denied. Because of this.
    She grabbed the golden necklace around her neck and pulled. It burned, a little at first, like hot water in a bath. Then it grew stronger, like holding your hand near fire. And then, then it turned to flames. Yes. Yes. Annabel let go and raised her arms. Red lines engraved her palms.
    And she laughed.
    He’d told her it wouldn’t come off as long as she lived. Still giggling, she toyed with the chain. It didn’t hurt, if she didn’t pull. But it kept her here: this little thing. At