Thanks to everyone for your coments and yes this chapter is over double as long (chapter1: aprox. 500 words chapter 2: aprox 1265 words) sorry its taken sooo long to post but i ahve been busy with school and everything. This chapters from lorelles mums point of veiw.
I lie in bed looking up at the roof but I don’t see much, im too deep in thought to see much. I think about my life here as a peasant, spending my days cleaning, cooking, fetching water and teaching my daughter. My daughter, I have four sons but only one daughter. That’s what im thinking about most.
My daughter, Lorelle has been getting increasingly sick over the last few years. She started off as a normal healthy 12 year old girl but then she started eating more and more soon she was eating double what everyone else was eating easily. You would think she would start putting on some weight, however Lorelle started losing weight and becoming weaker. So where was all the food going? Well it was coming straight out the other end meaning she was visiting the lavatory a lot more than anyone else.
Lorelle is now 14 and no matter how much she eats or drinks she’s always hungry and thirsty. Her hunger and thirst is making her do anything for food or water and she can’t think of anything else. Our neighbors will think she’s been cursed by a witch and burn her. For this reason I have to locking her away in the shed where no one will see or hear her until she get better. If she gets better.
I have 4 sons and my husband. My Husband’s name is Ericson and my sons are Jonson, Michel, Gregory and Charles. They have all given up hope on Lorelle.
“It’s the survival of the fittest,” They all say “That’s how it’s got to be.
Although not my youngest, Jonson he’s a sweet kid. He’s 7 almost 8 and great friends with Lorelle; they always had a lovely time together out climbing trees and playing games. Lorelle would often help him with his chores as well as finding time to do her own. Sometimes she would teach him how to help with her chores but usually she would get up extra early and do them before Jonson awoke so they would have more time to play. If she had to fetch water Jonson would often go with her but he couldn’t carry a full bucket but she always said he was good company.
Lorelle was good friends with her other brothers too and would always help them if they needed it however being older than her the other three boys would never admit to needing her help. Lorelle was always ready to help and when she wasn’t helping her brothers or playing with Jonson she would be either be helping Ericson, helping me or helping our neighbor’s son who was her best friend. I always wonder how she found the time to do her own chores.
My husband Ericson who we all call Eric was especially fond of Lorelle, he loved it when she would help him in the field and she was always happy to weather it was planting or picking or just keeping him company. The boys would help to but it was never by choice although they knew it was help or starve so they would never refuse but they didn’t have the same attitude as Lorelle.
Lorelle was always happy and energetic with a very lay back attitude and Eric would talk nonstop about her. But now he walks away whenever the subject comes up, he’s never happy when he comes in from the field, maybe it’s because everywhere you look there’s a memory of Lorelle. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t her following him in laughing and joking. Although I think it’s because everywhere seems sadder colder and darker without Lorelle’s laughter filling the world, without her bright simile to brighten up the world and without her warm loving attitude to fill the house.
Her best friend was the boy that lived next door, he was the hardest to fool for the first week I make up loads of different stories about where she was but in the end I had to tell him what had really happened. Other than her bothers Thierry was the only child she spoke to because of this I thought it was only fair he knew the truth. When I told Thierry he begged to see her so I made a deal with him he was to see Lorelle for one last time but he must tell no one of what he sees and tell no one what I have told him.
He entered the shed with caution which brought a tear to my eye, what sort of monster has my daughter become for her own friend to have to approach her with caution? Once he had reached where she was lying he knelt down slowly and with the same caution he had shown earlier he reached out and touched her arm. For the last time Lorelle spoke word that made sense but even then her voice sounded weak and her words slightly distorted.
Thierry and Lorelle spoke until Lorelle was almost asleep but still Thierry sat next to her stroking her hair until she was completely sleep at which point Thierry - who didn’t want to leave but knew his mother and father needed him home - sat for a minuet more tears rolling down his checks as he continued to stroke her hair till he could bear to stay no longer. He then lent over his oldest and best friend and whispered goodbye into her ear before kissing her lightly on the check. With this he stood up knowing this would be the last time he would see Lorelle he walked out of the shed slowly promising to himself never to forget Lorelle and her warm hearted and loving soul.
Thierry later told me that when we was with Lorelle they had talked about the games they had played when they were little and what they would do together when Lorelle was allowed out of the shed again. Thierry told me how Lorelle spoke about how they would always be friends and how she would never forget Thierry even if they were to part. This was all heart breaking to know how Lorelle thought she would get out of the shed better, we all hoped she would of course but it didn’t seem likely somehow.
Every night I pray for her and every morning I open the shed hoping to see her better, but I never do. I hope she will say something that makes sense but her sentences only get worse. I bring her food and water every day but it’s never enough.
One afternoon, about 2 weeks since Lorelle was put in the shed I walk in and give her a chicken leg. When I walk in she’s curled up on her bed, I study her for a moment. She looks about as white as snow and her limbs are thin and boney. She is dirty and her hair has matted and had fallen out in places. She is perfectly still other than the slight rise and fall of her chest with every breath.
Lorelle cries out but it’s not a word, just a noise. She makes no attempt to move until I reach her. When she smells the chicken she immediately finds the energy to sit up and grab the chicken. I haven’t been this close to her in a while mostly I have left everything at the door. So what I see next makes me scream and run away, it’s horrible, it’s well im not sure but whatever it is isn’t my daughter anymore.
