The Lady's Game (Completed)

10 - Dear Mother

Chapter 10

I close the door behind me softly and turn to see Auntie sleeping on a chair with her head on the kitchen table. I tiptoe to her quietly, guilt washing over me as I see her small frown and uncomfortable position.

'Auntie,' I whisper, shaking her shoulders,' Auntie, wake up.' She groans softly and moves her head slightly.

'Here,' I say, lifting her up and wrapping her arm around my shoulders. Supporting most of her weight, I put her in my bed and tuck her in. She instantly snuggles deeper in my pillow and falls back asleep.

Back in the kitchen, I sigh and nurse a cup of strong tea as I brood over my day. And especially an event that leads me to think. Really think. As a girl, what am I? What do I stand for? What do I want to stand for? The girl I was, she had no choice, she was used like an animal, like nothing.

Men are bigger, they're stronger and they don't mind hurting people as much as girls do. Girls are more sensative, not as strong and try to avoid these kind of situations. It makes sense that in terms of strength, they're more powerful, but women are there for a purpose too, just not the same purpose. I sigh and look out of the window into the dark, dark sky. Girls are ... used? Definitly not as respected... worth less too? But why? Who put this idea in peoples' heads? Is it the men who want to control their surroundings or the women who give men whatever they please without dignity or pride?

I massage my temples and try to think about what I want to be. I want to be respected, I want people to not hate me and yet not follow me blindly like boys do to Jack. I want ... I want to lead people, to help them and make sure everyone is treated well. I want to do so much, to achieve so much, and yet in this world I can't do anything because I'm a girl. Simple as that.

All this is just so overwhelmingly wrong. It's hopeless.

I quickly finish my tea and put the cup away. Since I have no bed, I make myself comfortable on Auntie's arm chair and rock myself soothingly. The movement reminds me of when I was a child, and I had a fever which wouldn't come down. Mother would always cradle me in her arms and rock me back and forth the whole night to make me feel better.

And of course, it always worked when she did it.

But now, alone, all it does is being back painful memories of a past so deep and raw that despite all my efforts, a lump forms in my throat and my eyes swell up with tears of grief. I mustn't cry, I repeat, closing my eyes in an attempt to stop the tears, I'm past that stage now.

I remember waking up every morning urge to do so many things: to see my caring family; to eat delicious things; too ride Belle as fast as she could go; to play with Isabel and Lauren; to tease Frank; have peaceful time in the library to read for hours on end; to do so many things that would bring a smile to my face.

Now, I wake up with a frown and with a sole purpose: to survive.

I wipe my traitorous tears with the back of my hands and think back to my past. My joyful, burden-free past. How did it all change so quickly? How did I go from Lady to peasant? The my eyes harden as I recall that dreadful day. The answer is simple.

They were murdered.

My parents were taken from me by a murderer.

A mixture of rage and hopelessness fill my mind. I smash my fist against the wooden arm in frustration. What right did they have to take what was mine? What should still be mine!

Why? Why would they do this? Did they not know what they took from me? What they are making me feel like?

What monster would do this to some-one?