The Daughter Of Illéa

Chapter 69

The palace was just a few shades darker. The sun wasn't raying through the stained glass, but cowered behind the clouds as it too, was scared to see me driven another day without my best friend.

My hair is tangled, rustled, and bombaric to sum it up. I hadn't showered in two days. I just layed in bed. At the normal eating hours, Wanda would bring my supper to my bed and leave so I can eat in peace.

Something about the last few days made me utterly sick to my stomach.
She, Char, was gone. I try to say her death done good in even the most awful way. Like my dad for example. I keep on assuming that my petrified stage of a loved ones death would bring us even closer, as he passed this with my mother. However the optimistic thoughts were only pushed away even further at the thought of her murder.

The investigator told her parents how it all went down. Charleston was leaving Feldspar's parents place in Labrador to meet them for the first time. They said she must've gotten caught in traffic, and without a cellular device available, went to a near by apartment to call her parents to alert them of her late departure. That's when it all started. The sector of Kent that was under attack is now just a place of destruction. Ashes and crumbles of bricks. She suffered for my selfish need of advice.

I also discovered a lot while in bed. One being of the fact that Willow was involved. She was the one who led me to a rape incident, and just so happened to be discussing some sort of plan with her father. They mentioned me, accusing me of knowing. Knowing what, is the question; that I knew about the Christmas party or of her certain plan? I was unsure. But I am positive that Willow Jennings was somehow involved in the rebel attack that led to the downfall of Charleston Tonks.

***

"Miss?" I rolled over, my eyes peaking open like heavy flaked shades, guarding my eyes from the world outside them.

"Yes?" It was Mrs. Martha, her heavily weighted figure coming to push back my covers, as Tinsley was warming the bath.

"It's been a week...I know I'm not here to offer direction, suggestion, or commentary, but as a friend, I'm here to help you." She lifted me, my wild lion mane like reflection yawning back at me in the vanity reflection. "So, I figured, this morning, you could at least get up and walk around..." I never paid much attention to Mrs. Martha. She was always the elder one of the group, but I never realized how much she cared.

Under her white bonnet is gray hair, frizzing out behind her ears in a small bun, hinting an accent of her used to be fiery red hair. Her skin is pale, almost like Charleston's was, except this go round it was shaded in years of age and wrinkles. Her eyes are small but hinted with her blue shade of her past, and her nose is small, unlike her hourglass shaped body.

"...you don't have to eat with the others, but at least go take a stroll in the gardens so Illéa won't assume your dead."

I obeyed.
For once.

I soaked in the bath for thirty minutes, removing the musky scent, and the tangles in my mane. Within an hour I was physically repaired...physically.

I was supporting a yellow day dress. It had buttons and floral sewn lace. I didn't pay much attention as my eyes weren't focused enough on my present stage of life. It was somewhere back when the selection first started. Those days when I was oblivious...lost, and how Char saved me.
My head jolted up when I felt the last braid around my head snap into place. With my makeup on point and my blonde hair braided like a cap on the crown of my head, I tangled the white beaded necklace around my neck. Sometimes I forgot I even had it, as it laid beside my mother and I's picture. I remember the day Aunt Francine gave it to me. The day of my departure from Clermont and to Angeles. The day she decided against her poverty and made something not equal too, but better then any pearl.