Athenia's Choice (ON HOLD)

Athenia's Choice: Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Watching both horse and rider canter away, I sighed blissfully at the thought of being rescued. Even though it made my fingers bleed sorely, I smashed some more glass so that I could lean through the window. I watched the blood drip off my hands; I almost enjoyed the pain, the pure agony, this exhilaration running through me.

There was something so satisfying about cutting myself, the glass digging in. Piercing, hurting, slicing. I rammed the glass further in, getting to the bottom of my anger and loneliness. Sweat pumped through my body as the wound got bigger.

I wished I could tidy myself up, for whatever would Charles think when he saw my gawdy dress splattered in blood, and my hair resembling the style of the gorgon Medusa’s? I sat down, beginning to dream.

I was aroused from my fantasies when I heard another clip clopping (presumably of hooves) – Charles? I ran to the window with great haste. It was him! I gazed adoringly.

“Charles, I’m over here!” I called, leaning through the dangerously spikey glass. He waved, and then dismounted. Sand blew up from the path as his sturdy leather boots hit the floor. He was carrying a snake of rope and a woven basket. My face lit up at the thought of him rescuing me.

“You must keep your voice down, I don’t want my Father to hear,” I urged him. With determination and skill, he swung the rope over one of the jagged rocks that jutted out from the castle walls. Charles then fastened the basket to the two ends, knotting it all together.

I watched as he pulled the rope and the basket slowly began to ascend towards my prison. Soon, it was hovering outside the window.

“Do be quick Athenia, for it is quite testing balancing these two ropes,” Charles said, although there was no sign through his facial expression that it really was hard. In fact, he was grinning up at me!

I lifted my grubby skirts up, and then very carefully put on leg out the window. The dangerous drop down made me gulp. Then, after putting my other leg out, I lowered myself gently into the basket, which wobbled precariously, and then toppled to the ground.

I screamed, clutching onto nothing-ness, hair flying into my face. In a flash, I was lying sprawled on the grass, half-tangled in the basket. I caught my breath; I felt like I had been knocked out. Charles’ strength must have given way – unless, dear lord, was I getting too heavy to carry? I felt terribly dizzy though, when I stood up.

“Are you quite alright, Athenia?” Charles wondered, concerned, running towards me.

“I feel quite woozy,” I replied, somewhat faintly, looking down at my much bloodied hands. The sun was too bright for my eyes so I shaded them, whilst stumbling about. Charles caught me in his strong muscular arms. As he looked down, his tousled blonde hair fell into his exquisite blue eyes and gave him a roguish look. I had only been with him a few minutes the other day, so I had not realised he must be a good few years older than I.

“Perhaps it is concussion. Let’s be on the safe side, and have you rest, I will take you somewhere safe.” Charles offered, looking worried, and I did not protest as he lifted me on the back of his horse.

I clung around him tightly for the first few minutes, but then enjoyed the dangerous sense of letting my arms go free. There was air, air, around me, free space.

Charles rode slowly enough so I did not feel sick and so I had time to absorb the scenery. We passed under rows of apple trees, saw glistening ponds, and pointed at chirruping birds. All around us was the colour green. I hated the countryside, the stupid hills, fields, and the sense of loneliness and isolation.

I wondered many a time where we were going to, for if we were going to his mother's house, we would have branched off on the wider road ages ago.

The journey was a tiresome one, but we finally reached a crooked three-storey house by a bubbling brook, hidden in such peacefulness that I wanted to scream.

“What is this place?” I wondered, perhaps a little sulkily, as we dismounted.

“Here, have a drink,” Charles offered, holding out a flask. For some reason it made me rather giggly, my voice become all high-pitched, and my dizziness from earlier return. Perhaps drinking the whole flask was not the wisest thing to do.

Looking alarmed, Charles dragged me to the door of the house. The woman who answered looked at us disapprovingly, but let us in.

“Charlie wheres we goings,” I giggled drunkenly as he grabbed hold of my wrist. He tugged me firmly up the stairs, and I tripped many times. We ran down a corridor and into a dusty, drab room. I tripped again, this time over a stool, and banged my head. Something small inside me was screaming for me to wake up.

I felt dizzier than ever and no emotions ran through my body. Charles laid me to rest in the bed, which had a dull patterned quilt and squashed-looking cushions on it. I was so, so sleepy….

Dreaming? Was I dreaming? Quilt rustles. Pulled down, entranced. Pulled off, warmth closer. Dizzy, trying to pull away. This isn’t right. Pulled in tighter by forces, unable to scream, unable to breathe. Exposed. So, so dizzy…

I woke up, sweat all over me. Charles’ shirt was undone, exposing his tanned chest. He sat in an armchair, smoking his pipe.

“Are you awake?” he asked simply.

“Yes, I’m awake, and I don’t feel so dizzy anymore,” I told him truthfully, pulling up my dress, which seemed to have come undone at the top, making me look tarty. I pulled back the stuffy quilt, searching for my falling-apart shoes.

It didn't dawn on me at the time to ask how long I had been asleep, but my body felt full of bubbles and all the hurt from earlier seemed to have been washed away by the plentiful sun. I wanted this feeling to stay, I wanted to stay there with Charles, away from my father.

I linked arms with Charles as we walked out into the bright green space that surrounded us for miles. The woman from earlier was rolling her eyes as we exited the house.

He produced a small picnic from a bag that was attached to his horse’s saddle. We went down by the brook, which turned into a glistening meandering river.

“We can’t just steal it!” I protested, as Charles started untying a rowing boat from its moorings.

“What the owners don’t know can’t harm them.” Charles grinned mischievously, and a fizzle of rebellion flew over his perfectly painted face.

He rowed us downstream for a while, as I ate frosted biscuits and jam tarts. The cups of lemonade kept spilling but it was a pleasant endeavour. I skimmed my hand in the water, cool and refreshing for the cut on my hand, releasing the pain in calmer depths.

We chatted about many things. Charles was so kind, funny and an excellent listener when everyone else ignored me. I loved that cheeky twinkle in his eyes; mine compared to the dazzling-ness of his were a dull hazely-violet that looked like the colour of leaves.

“So have you lived all your life at Bodiam?” Charles wondered, resting a hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. I nodded.

“What is it like, being well-off?” he then queried. I blushed, remembering his tale of scandal. His eyes were fixated on me intently.

“Well, I suppose it provides comfortable living,” I responded awkwardly. Please don’t say anything about how we acquired the money, I screamed in my head, body tensing up. But he did. I froze.

Maybe my choice to meet him wasn’t such a good one. Because now, I was in danger of revealing the lie that I guarded with my life…