Shrouded

.X.

"A message came to a maiden young, the angel stood beside her... in shining robes with golden tongue, and told what should betide her..."

I looked up into the face of the woman who sang. She smiled gently at me, and traced her fingertip down my nose. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle as she sang and gazed at me, full of...

It took me a moment to place the emotion I hadn't seen or felt in so long. Love.

Over the woman's shoulder, a tall and brawny man sauntered into view. He placed a large, rough hand on my head, and smiled at me, much of his mouth hidden behind his full beard.

He bent to kiss the woman who held me, and a tingling sense of recognition stirred inside me. It grew when he spoke.

"Are you feeling alright, Mary?"

"I'm fine, John." The woman's speaking voice was much like her singing: light and easy. There was a hint of laughter in her tone. "You worry about me too much."

The conversation, on the surface, sounded sweet. A man cautious and worried for the health of his loved one. But there was something... a fearful sort of tension in the woman's voice, an angry edge to the man's.

"If you feel so well," the man said, sliding his arms around the woman's waist, "why don't we..." he trailed off as he nuzzled her neck, his face becoming obscured by her long, dark curls.

The woman giggled. Nervously, I thought.

"Uh, maybe... Maybe not today, John, I-"

John's face grew stormy. "You know I need you, Mary. If you loved me, you'd do it."

"But-"

John scoffed. "The kid was born weeks ago. Get over him, already."

Mary's lip quivered, and her face grew pale. "He was our son. Just because it was a stillbirth doesn't mean it was any less hard on me." She hugged my small body closer, and I could feel her heartbeat fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest.

Suddenly, I was picked up, out of the woman's arms, and set into a crib on the other side of the room. I watched John walk toward Mary, and before he reached her, she glanced at me. The fear and sorrow in her eyes nearly broke my heart. She smiled at me, attempting nonchalance, but, before John blocked Mary from my view, I saw a single tear slide down her cheek.

-

"Skinny. Skinny. Hey," a voice said, in a worried tone. I felt light slaps on my face. "Skinny? Please wake up. Skinny, hey."

I opened my eyes to see Jaqueline crouching over me, her long blonde hair falling over her face and mine as she gently shook me.

I grumbled, pushing her off of me, and heard her sigh of relief as I rubbed my eyes.

"Ohmygod," she said. "I was like, so scared." She bent back over me, looking deeply into my eyes. "You were like, muttering, and, like, shaking? Like someone having a seizure or something! And then you started crying, and I really freaked out-"

I waved my hand, cutting off her worried rambling. I reached up to feel the soft skin under my eyes, and my fingers came away damp. I groaned as I sat up, leaning against the wall for support. "I saw the woman again."

Jaqueline sat up, and scooted over the floor to sit right across from me, one leg straight and one bent, and rested her chin in her hands. "Tell me what happened?"

I nodded. "I think I was, uh..." I closed my eyes, calling the memory to mind. "A baby."

"Like, a baby, baby?" She raised an eyebrow, a half-amused smile tugging at her lips.

"What other kind of baby is there?" I laughed a little, and she grinned. "Yeah, a baby, baby."

"Okay, well, what did you see as a baby baby?"

"Um. That same woman from my other memories was holding me. I think you were right about it being my mom. Her name was Mary."

Jaqueline smiled. "Skinny, that's great! Did you find out your name, though?"

I shook my head, and something in my expression must have given her a hint, because the smile faded from her face. She reached out and laid a hand on my forearm. "What happened, Skinny?"

I looked into her eyes, the blue of them so like the woman's, like my mothers. The concern and care was so evident, tears threatened to spill over again.

I looked away and rubbed my eyes, took a deep, unnecessary breath, and met Jaqueline's gaze again. "There was... a man."

"A man?" She gasped lightly. "Your father?"

"Maybe. Probably."

"Well..." she searched my face, confused at the sadness written there. "Isn't that good? Memories are coming back. You might know who you are soon."

I sighed, and motioned for her to come sit against the wall with me. She scooted around and slipped her hand into mine, a silent offering of support and understanding. 

"My mother seemed... scared of him." I kept the details to myself, about the apparent sexual abuse, the stillbirth of my brother. I just didn't feel comfortable saying those things aloud.

Jaqueline made an uncomfortable sound in her throat. "You think he was, like, abusing her?"

"I don't know. I won't know, until I remember everything."

We were silent for a while until Jaqueline spoke again. "I'll help you, Skinny. You won't have to do it alone." She laid her head on my shoulder and hugged me with one arm.

I smiled gratefully as the brown light of day finally faded into night.

-

"Please!"

Jaqueline and I sat upright, necks aching from resting against the wall most of the night. Dawn was barely breaking, the slightest lightening of the soil-dark sky giving an indication of morning.

Jaqueline tensed beside me, and whispered, her voice hoarse and afraid, "Did you hear that?"

I nodded, looking down at her. "I haven't heard anything like that here..."

"Me, either."

We fell silent, ears perked for the smallest sounds. Nothing.

"What do you think that wa-" my whispered question was abruptly cut off with another cry from outside. This one sounded closer.

"Please! Please, just let-" the cry broke off with a sob, a harsh and ragged and utterly terrifying sound. Other than Jaqueline and I, and the man, Pete, that we'd seen a few days ago, I hadn't heard anyone speak here, let alone scream or cry.

Jaqueline and I huddled together, listening to the voice sob. After a few minutes, the sobs withered into pathetic whimpers, and I heard the distinct sounds of something, or someone, being dragged across the ground.

I gently disentangled myself from Jaqueline's arms, and, despite her wide eyes and gestures to stop, I crawled to the door of our little dwelling. Reaching up, I slowly, gently turned the knob, every sense alert for danger, and eased the door open just a crack, barely enough to peek through.

What I saw nearly made me cry out. A red-headed woman, her brown clothing stained with blood, was being dragged along the street by two very large, brown-clothed men. Her hands were bound with brown fabric, and her chin scraped along the road as she was hauled away. I watched in frozen horror as the two men towing her off rounded a corner into a side-street and disappeared from view. I cracked the door wider, my face visible as I peered out at the scene, at the trail of blood on the street, at the terrified woman and her wild hair, matted on one side with dark redness and dirt.

Through puffy, tear-drowned eyes, the woman met my gaze just before she was pulled into the alley. Her eyes widened, and she began kicking and screaming, yowling like a mad cat. I panicked and, hating myself for my cowardice even as I did it, I turned away and gently shut the door.