She is always here | #Wattys2016

She is always here

Alex kept reassuring herself that she had known the touch of this particular hand before – these delicate fingers grasping her bare shoulder. She could feel their so soft skin. Why are they so familiar? She thought, not being scared in the least. Though her mouth was gagged with a piece of cloth. Her whole head was covered by a thick straw-smelling fabric bag. Her hands were tied up behind her. And right at the back of her skull, a pistol. It was round three in the morning when she was kidnapped. That was why it was so quiet that sometimes she could even hear the person escorting her swallowing uneasily.

Then there was silence. The gun was removed from her head and Alex could feel the breath against her neck, hot and heavy, somewhat nervous, smelling like a type of herbs. Mint.

Summer, 1889.

After Alex's mother committed suicide, Alex and her father moved to a small village.

'It was your fault that my daughter died! You murderer! Leave my granddaughter here,' the voice of her granny echoed and faded into the air.

From time to time, Alex looked out of the window from the coach her father was driving. All she had wanted to do was to check on her poor old granny. The figure became blurrier and blurrier and eventually, like her granny's voice, it gradually disappeared into the dust behind. Turning back, Alex swallowed, but there must have been something stuck in her throat. She felt helpless.

Life went on. Alex went to a dame school near her house. The first day she was there, there was no sign of her father. Her whole body was sweaty and filled with the smell of straw and cow dung. Her hair was a mess, tangled. Standing next to her was Miss Ada. She looked at Alex warmly. Miss Ada had offered Alex a day off since Alex seemed quite ill to her. But Alex refused. Miss Ada then asked her to join her reading class after which Miss Ada walked up to have a talk with Alex's teacher.

Alex took a few steps forward and stopped at the front of the room. She clutched her hem, looking round wearily. Everything in here was quite shabby and simple: the wooden black board next to her, some old maps on the wall – their colours almost faded, and some potted flowers on the windowsills. There were about twenty students gathering into small groups. Because of Alex's appearance and smell, some of them didn't even bother looking at her and whoever looked at her, staring with a disgusted eye. In fairness though, compared to them, she was like a homeless girl. Alex looked down at her feet, pursing her lips. I never had friends anyway! She thought, trying to console herself but it didn't seem to work very well. Her thoughts then ran round and round – aimlessly. Is the death of my mother not enough? Is the existence of my father and the noises he makes in his bedroom with his women not enough? She swallowed up her mixed feelings of sorrow and upset, not letting a single tear roll down her cheeks.

At break time, the students diverged from the classroom to a huge yard rounded with wooden fence behind the house. While they played all sort of games, Alex found herself a mound at the far end and climbed up it, immersing herself in her own world. The sun rose up. She was alone. But out of the blue a vague human shadow crossed the ground in front of her. She turned round and seemed a bit surprised. A pair of pure blue eyes fixed on her. That moment she thought she had died and gone to heaven because the figure standing behind her was absolutely gorgeous – like an angel. She was slightly shorter than Alex. Her hair was curly, blonde, and rather golden to be exact. She was dressed like a princess – a little flowery hairband round her forehead, a cute polka-dot dress on her slim body, and a pair of milky-coloured doll shoes with bows on top.

'Hi! I'm Alisha! Nice to meet you,' said Alisha with a sweet voice. She must be about 6 years old, Alex thought.

'Alex.' Alex's reply was rather curt.