Lost

Chapter 27

Belle’s POV

Weaving is all I do for the next hour. In and out-those are the only words I think about. I have never been so focused and so determined to do one thing in my whole entire lifetime, even if it is just weaving a strip of fabric in and out…and in and out and in and out. Really, truthfully, the task couldn’t be more boring. But my mind is clouded by the constant repetition and I can’t seem to think about anything else. I suppose this is a good thing, though. It’s easier if I don’t think. The more I think the worse I feel. If I could, I would stop thinking all together because I’m pretty sure, if I could think, I would think about how awful this place is, how much I miss my granny, how much I want to be with her, how much I wish I had never left my granny at the hospital, I how much I wish I didn’t lose that game of tag, how much I wish I never left the orphanage, how much I wish Bethany never left the orphanage, and how much I wish my parents were here.  But I really don’t want to think about it, so I keep weaving like it’s my sole purpose in life because I’m pretty sure it’s the only purpose I will ever have now.

 My tiny fingers easily glide in and out of the mess of strings and I am too absorbed in my work to notice that the harsh fibers of the strings are giving me rope burns.  I should feel pain, but somehow it just passes through me and I keep working. I only have a couple of strips left and then I will be done.  When I am finally on my last strip of black cloth, I scan through my masterpiece one last time to see how my first rug looks and I have to say… I am fairly disappointed.

It looks awful! I can’t believe I did all that work for nothing. My first rug is a disaster!

“Hey that looks pretty good!” Bethany exclaims enthusiastically, and, before I can say anything, she takes my loom away from me and stares at the pattern in awe.

Good? It’s awful! She must be lying!

“But it looks…”

“Great for your first rug. Belle these things take time and practice. I’m actually really impressed with you. You might have a talent for this.” Bethany smiles at me warmly as she compliments my hard work.

The loom is still in her hands when she motions towards me and like the obedient child I am, I come inch my stool closer to her in anticipation. Bethany grabs a pair of scissors from the table and snips the end strings of the rug that are tied to the loom. Once the patterned rug is in one piece, she sews the ends with a needle and thread and ta-da!

“Wow. Thanks!” I finger the woven bits of fabric in my hand carefully as I examine my new rug over and over again until I am completely satisfied with the results.

“Anytime.” Bethany pats my back half-heartedly and gets back to her work.

I guess it’s not so bad…yeah. Now what do I do?

“So now what?” I place the rug on the table in front of me and give Bethany’s shoulders a quick tap.

“Don’t worry. The working day is almost over.” Bethany listlessly comments as she eyes the thread in the needle cautiously.

“Workin-“

I stop in mid-sentence when I feel a dramatic change in the atmosphere. The room grows dangerously silent and then out of nowhere…the door opens. I am almost too shocked by the surprise visit that I nearly topple over my stool and fall. The presence of the two men gives me the chills-not the kind that means your cold, but the kind that gives you that eerie, creepy feeling that something bad might happen. I cower in my seat and shrink to half my size, letting my fear get the better of me. But it’s not as if I can help it, if I could. One of them quickly scans the room and then immediately fixes his eyes on the stack of rugs in the corner. His eyes glisten in greed as she snatches the bunch of them in his arms, without even giving us a sign of ‘thanks.’ The other one on the other hand…