To Love and To Hate

Chapter Seven

Lanmou Louisiana, ? 1860

Suppressing is messing with logic and sanity. Knowing irrationality barricades it not... Words hit barriers as feathers on rocks. Wishing falls empty in bottomless wells...pointless endeavors, then why can't I stop? Fears build up... clutching at straws, fingers outstretched into nothing at all.

She didn't know how long she had been in the root cellar, but judging by how weak she had become, and how she had moved very far beyond thirst and hunger, it must have been many days. Mae wasn't sure what had happened, but she knew she shouldn't have been down here this long. She was laying in the dirt on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands wrapped around them. Her eyes were closed, there was not anything to look at in the complete dark anyway, but also because she lacked the energy to open them. Ms. Benoit must have forgotten about her after she had locked her in this punishment place. No one had given her food, or water, or blankets to ward off the cold nights. She thought she heard someone, last night? Two nights ago? She couldn't say now. Her hopes had risen enough to give her energy to get on her knees and try to shout, but it had risen only to a whisper which couldn't fall farther than the little space she was in. 

Now, her energy was expended just trying to breathe, with even that becoming difficult. She knew she was dying, and it wouldn't be long. It wasn't such a bad thing, since it would take her away from the misery she was in now. Barely breathing, she  thought she heard someone in the cellar with her, but they weren't making their presence known, and she had no energy to look. She hadn't heard the big doors open, or footsteps come down the stone stairs. Yet, a hand brushed over her cheek, and she smelled perfume. Forcing her eyes open, she confirmed what she thought. 

"Momma?" She said out loud, or rather she thought she had, but Mae's mom nodded so maybe she did. Her mom reached for Mae's hand from around her knees and helped her to stand up. Mae felt her hunger, her thirst, and her misery fall away as the ground beneath her did. Standing in front of her mom, hands clasped with hers, she turned her head to look back at where she had been lying, where she was still lying. How had that happened? How was she there, and here? Oh. She looked back up at her mom with understanding in her eyes, and perhaps a tear or two. Then again, if dying meant being with her mom again, maybe it was going to be ok. Then, with a gentle tug on her hand to encourage her to walk, a small loving smile on her face as she did so. Mae and her mom walked slowly towards the cellar stairs, up them, and for the first time in too long, went out through the closed double doors.