Post by Chelliet on Oct 5, 2006 21:44:48 GMT -5
History: Her life started with a rose.
Beauty is as beauty does and she had never been beautiful. Her life had been downright ugly. Ugly enough, sick enough, horrible enough, that her young mind did the only thing it could do. It locked it away in some far away, deep, dark place at the edge of her mind and left her no memory of those years.
Seven years. Her life began at seven.
She knew the facts of how she'd been found, could remember it all very vividly, but it was all so distant. As if the broken bones, the brutally molested body, the dried blood in her hair, on her lips, between her legs, had happened to some other little girl. To some other 7 year old. God, she didn't even know what her birthday was.
What's your name?
I don't know.
How old are you?
I don't know.
Where do you live?
I don't know.
Where are your parents?
I don't know.
The men who'd found her had looked tired and the healers were in such a hurry and wouldn't look at her. Why wouldn't they look at her? Oh of course, she wasn't beautiful. She wasn't noble. She'd lain there in that clean bed in that dim room and watched as the healer left, closing the door quietly behind her. Then she heard her weeping. Why was she so sad? It didn't hurt so bad; not anymore...
What is your name?
I don't know.
Where do you live?
I don't know.
Who are your parents?
I don't know!
She tired of their questions. It was always the same ones, over and over and over again. She didn't know the answers and it was all she could respond with. Her body healed, but she couldn't remember anything before waking up in the healer's hut and having women too old to cry weep over her.
There had been searches conducted in the nearby villages, but no one claimed her. No one wanted her. She was tainted, this broken child found near death and violated in the forest. What she remembered, she remembered in dreams and forgot them upon waking.
"Mama, mama, look! I'm a princess now, see?." A clumsy ring of flowers sat lopsidedly upon her flaxen hair, and her smile was a joy. She'd spent all afternoon making her crown and could now proudly show it off.
"Yes, 'tis pretty my love." But her mother wasn't smiling, wasn't even looking. So she tugged on her mother's skirt to get her attention.
"Look mama!"
"Look at what?" Immediately she tried to hide behind her mother's skirts. It was him. Father. Only he wasn't her father. But she was supposed to call him that.
Heavy boots thunked loudly even on the earthen floor of their cottage and his shape loomed dark and huge in front of her. Nervously she stuck her thumb in her mouth and tried to inch around so that her mother's dress hid all of her.
"Look at what? What have you done now?" His tone wasn't neutral now. No, she'd made him angry and she knew what happened when he got angry. Immediately she started crying, sucking hard on her thumb to keep from being too loud. He didn't like it when she wasn't quiet as a church mouse.
"'Tis nothing. Some silly flower crown is all," her mother answered. So her mother -had- seen. She lifted tear stained eyes to her mother and would have smiled if -he- hadn't stepped closer and pulled her mother away. She hadn't kept the sound of fear out as she clutched at her mother's skirt and tried to stay at her side. He wasn't having any of it.
Harshly he grabbed her arm and jerked her away until she stood by herself, kept away from her mother only by the strong, hard arm of the man she called father.
"She will tell me. Why would you make such a thing? Have you spent all day doing nothing? Answer me!" She cried in earnest now and her thumb was red from sucking. He shook her hard enough to wrest her hand free of her mouth and she cried loudly. So he shook her again to quiet her and the flower crown slid down until it hung precariously over one ear.
"To be a princess." She blurted it out and for an instant that stopped him. She stopped crying for a moment, hoping that he would go away now that she'd answered his question. But instead he slapped her. Hard. Hard enough to leave her sprawled on the floor. The flowers finally fell and she clutched at them.
"You are NOT a princess. You never will be. Put these thoughts out of your head this instant. You are nothing but a filthy little girl." He tried to the take the flowers and she cried as she held on to them with all her strength. But of course she was no match for him and he jerked them free, breaking that tedious ring. Curling on her side, she held what was left of the crown in her hands and wept. Wept loudly enough that he growled and beat her until darkness swept down to take her away.
Then one day a lady came. A beautiful lady in beautiful clothes and she talked with the healers for a very long time. She was curious so she crept to the door and listened through the cracks, but still she couldn't make out what they said. Young fingers worked at the handle until the door cracked ever so slightly.
Then of its own volition the door opened completely and the lady stood there. Fear froze her and she looked up with wide, terrified eyes. The lady bent down and settled on her knees then, heedless of her beautiful clothes.
I am Esther. What is your name?
I don't know.
Then I shall name you. Jamieleigh. Does this suit you?
She hadn't answered, but she thought on it as hard as a child can think and finally nodded her head. Esther smiled then and it was a beautiful smile. It made Jamie smile in return, but it slipped away as Esther reached out to touch her cheek.
I promise you Jamieleigh, no one else will hurt you again. I will not let it happen. Do you believe me?
Yes.
Then she'd reached into a pocket and pulled out a single rose. It was blood red and smelled sweeter than any rose Jamie had ever smelled before. The thorns had been broken off so that the stem sat smooth and green in her soft hand.
Do you remember the day I brought you home, Jamie?
Yes.
I promised you something. Do you remember what I promised you?
That you would not let anyone hurt me again.
Indeed. It is time. I will make you strong enough to protect yourself. Strong enough that no one can hurt you unless you let them. Are you ready for this strength?
Yes.
She knew what her new mother was. Lycan. They lived alone in her estate, but Jamie didn't mind that. It meant she could do whatever she wished without worrying that anyone would find it displeasing. There were servants of course, but none of them seemed to mind her. She'd been there for 9 years and every time she'd asked her mother to explain her special abilities, Esther had hedged.
But not that night. That night she offered information freely and Jamie drank it up like elixir. And now her mother offered her a life. A beautiful life for the ugly child.
The ceremony was simply, or at least she thought it was a ceremony, and the pain that followed that night was easily forgotten beneath the joy of new found powers. When she awoke to a full moon and in her own bed, there was rose on the pillow beside her. As blood red as the first one she'd been given, this one still had its thorns and when she picked it up, the thorns did not pierce her skin.
Her life started with a rose.
Beauty is as beauty does and she had never been beautiful. Her life had been downright ugly. Ugly enough, sick enough, horrible enough, that her young mind did the only thing it could do. It locked it away in some far away, deep, dark place at the edge of her mind and left her no memory of those years.
Seven years. Her life began at seven.
She knew the facts of how she'd been found, could remember it all very vividly, but it was all so distant. As if the broken bones, the brutally molested body, the dried blood in her hair, on her lips, between her legs, had happened to some other little girl. To some other 7 year old. God, she didn't even know what her birthday was.
What's your name?
I don't know.
How old are you?
I don't know.
Where do you live?
I don't know.
Where are your parents?
I don't know.
The men who'd found her had looked tired and the healers were in such a hurry and wouldn't look at her. Why wouldn't they look at her? Oh of course, she wasn't beautiful. She wasn't noble. She'd lain there in that clean bed in that dim room and watched as the healer left, closing the door quietly behind her. Then she heard her weeping. Why was she so sad? It didn't hurt so bad; not anymore...
What is your name?
I don't know.
Where do you live?
I don't know.
Who are your parents?
I don't know!
She tired of their questions. It was always the same ones, over and over and over again. She didn't know the answers and it was all she could respond with. Her body healed, but she couldn't remember anything before waking up in the healer's hut and having women too old to cry weep over her.
There had been searches conducted in the nearby villages, but no one claimed her. No one wanted her. She was tainted, this broken child found near death and violated in the forest. What she remembered, she remembered in dreams and forgot them upon waking.
"Mama, mama, look! I'm a princess now, see?." A clumsy ring of flowers sat lopsidedly upon her flaxen hair, and her smile was a joy. She'd spent all afternoon making her crown and could now proudly show it off.
"Yes, 'tis pretty my love." But her mother wasn't smiling, wasn't even looking. So she tugged on her mother's skirt to get her attention.
"Look mama!"
"Look at what?" Immediately she tried to hide behind her mother's skirts. It was him. Father. Only he wasn't her father. But she was supposed to call him that.
Heavy boots thunked loudly even on the earthen floor of their cottage and his shape loomed dark and huge in front of her. Nervously she stuck her thumb in her mouth and tried to inch around so that her mother's dress hid all of her.
"Look at what? What have you done now?" His tone wasn't neutral now. No, she'd made him angry and she knew what happened when he got angry. Immediately she started crying, sucking hard on her thumb to keep from being too loud. He didn't like it when she wasn't quiet as a church mouse.
"'Tis nothing. Some silly flower crown is all," her mother answered. So her mother -had- seen. She lifted tear stained eyes to her mother and would have smiled if -he- hadn't stepped closer and pulled her mother away. She hadn't kept the sound of fear out as she clutched at her mother's skirt and tried to stay at her side. He wasn't having any of it.
Harshly he grabbed her arm and jerked her away until she stood by herself, kept away from her mother only by the strong, hard arm of the man she called father.
"She will tell me. Why would you make such a thing? Have you spent all day doing nothing? Answer me!" She cried in earnest now and her thumb was red from sucking. He shook her hard enough to wrest her hand free of her mouth and she cried loudly. So he shook her again to quiet her and the flower crown slid down until it hung precariously over one ear.
"To be a princess." She blurted it out and for an instant that stopped him. She stopped crying for a moment, hoping that he would go away now that she'd answered his question. But instead he slapped her. Hard. Hard enough to leave her sprawled on the floor. The flowers finally fell and she clutched at them.
"You are NOT a princess. You never will be. Put these thoughts out of your head this instant. You are nothing but a filthy little girl." He tried to the take the flowers and she cried as she held on to them with all her strength. But of course she was no match for him and he jerked them free, breaking that tedious ring. Curling on her side, she held what was left of the crown in her hands and wept. Wept loudly enough that he growled and beat her until darkness swept down to take her away.
Then one day a lady came. A beautiful lady in beautiful clothes and she talked with the healers for a very long time. She was curious so she crept to the door and listened through the cracks, but still she couldn't make out what they said. Young fingers worked at the handle until the door cracked ever so slightly.
Then of its own volition the door opened completely and the lady stood there. Fear froze her and she looked up with wide, terrified eyes. The lady bent down and settled on her knees then, heedless of her beautiful clothes.
I am Esther. What is your name?
I don't know.
Then I shall name you. Jamieleigh. Does this suit you?
She hadn't answered, but she thought on it as hard as a child can think and finally nodded her head. Esther smiled then and it was a beautiful smile. It made Jamie smile in return, but it slipped away as Esther reached out to touch her cheek.
I promise you Jamieleigh, no one else will hurt you again. I will not let it happen. Do you believe me?
Yes.
Then she'd reached into a pocket and pulled out a single rose. It was blood red and smelled sweeter than any rose Jamie had ever smelled before. The thorns had been broken off so that the stem sat smooth and green in her soft hand.
Do you remember the day I brought you home, Jamie?
Yes.
I promised you something. Do you remember what I promised you?
That you would not let anyone hurt me again.
Indeed. It is time. I will make you strong enough to protect yourself. Strong enough that no one can hurt you unless you let them. Are you ready for this strength?
Yes.
She knew what her new mother was. Lycan. They lived alone in her estate, but Jamie didn't mind that. It meant she could do whatever she wished without worrying that anyone would find it displeasing. There were servants of course, but none of them seemed to mind her. She'd been there for 9 years and every time she'd asked her mother to explain her special abilities, Esther had hedged.
But not that night. That night she offered information freely and Jamie drank it up like elixir. And now her mother offered her a life. A beautiful life for the ugly child.
The ceremony was simply, or at least she thought it was a ceremony, and the pain that followed that night was easily forgotten beneath the joy of new found powers. When she awoke to a full moon and in her own bed, there was rose on the pillow beside her. As blood red as the first one she'd been given, this one still had its thorns and when she picked it up, the thorns did not pierce her skin.
Her life started with a rose.