Page 24 of The Shadow of Breninsol
Fuck. Fuck.
She took a deep breath and moved back, as a twisting sensation made her stomach riot. Eleanor moved another necessary step away from his overwhelming presence.
A noise of some sort came from behind her, attracting his stifling attention above her head, but she didn’t hear whatever it was, focused on getting away. As she fled from him, again, she knew she wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, again.
Chapter Ten
Stolen Light
Warm sunlight from long ago washed over her. The floor surrounded her in multi-coloured shapes and whirling patterns made from the stained-glass window that towered over her. Its presence dominated the chamber, mirroring the imposing figure in front of her.
Thick columns lined the vast echoing chamber, giving the shadows space to lurk away from the exposed centre of the chamber. She longed to join that darkened space, a refuge from the bright light in front of her. For she knew who sat in the core of the luminosity that was too brilliant to look at. At one time inher life, she’d have given anything to be this close to the figure sitting within the bright light, but now she knew better.
She tried to move away, somewhere not so exposed, anywhere but here, but her feet refused to move. She looked down, surprised that she wasn’t encased in thick ice nor moulded in solidifying lava for how firmly her feet were secured to the spot. No matter how hard she tried to lift her legs or move her feet, she couldn’t. She was thoroughly held in place, kept there by something unseen.
As she’d been tugging and pulling fruitlessly, a high voice had been speaking, saying something she couldn’t understand but knowing the words were meant for her.
A young voice pleaded, “No, please.”
It was a voice she hated.
A voice that wasn’t shaped by true heartache, and it was foolish. It belonged to a girl who thought each time she begged and pleaded that they might one day listen.
If she begged and pleaded enough, then she would…stop.
That it wouldallstop.
Stupid little fool.
Shenever listened.
No one would stop this.
No one would save her, not even the shadows would help her.
She was alone.
The woman descended the dais, each step brought her closer and away from the dancing stained-glass window. Features that’d been obscured from the shining light became clearer. The brightness giving way to a face she knew well, a face that she knew one day might look back at her in a mirror.
“I’m sorry.” Despite her words, the beautiful woman’s tone lacked true remorse. If the woman was truly sorry, then she wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t take what was not hers to take, and what didn’t belong to her.
Even though the girl before this woman was young, she refused to genuflect and resigned herself to what was to come. She would not show the beautiful woman before her how much this hurt, as it inevitably would; the pain, the pulling, the tearing herself apart, until she was left feeling…empty, less than. The world would become muted, slow. Even the colours would fade once more.
“What would you have me do?” the beautiful woman said as she grabbed her smaller hand. She let herself feel the pain. The all-consuming agony that felt like every bone and muscle was being torn apart. Her entire being resisted vehemently against the unnaturalness of it.
What would you have me do?
What would you have me do?
What would you have me do?
It was a statement, an excuse, not a question that required a real answer.
She wanted to scream, “anything. Anything but this, not this. Please.” The woman was an adult, a leader, someone people looked up to. Why was it for her—a child—to find the answer for an adult? An adult who should want to find another way, and who should protect her. She didn’t know what that truly felt like.
She wanted to rebel at their joined hands, but she couldn’t. She was tied to the moment. Everything in her fought against the pull. Every ounce of her would make this woman fight for it. She didn’t make it easy for the woman. Though she was young, her resistance was from years of having this treatment forced upon on her. She couldn’t remember how it felt to be free from this torment. Her upbringing included it.
She would not be weak. She would not show this womanweakness.
