Desire

Chapter 1

Arianna’s P.O.V

I cowered in the darkest corner against the ice cold, concrete wall. Pangs of agony ripped at my stomach and my bruised limbs throbbed uncontrollably. A thick, warm liquid oozed out of my gashes, it was probably blood I couldn’t be sure though, not that I cared. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I probably never would.

I could hear the muffled voices through the thin wall- heavy with alcohol, the faint frenzy of the nearby Inn and the distant echo of a young child wailing. ‘Mamma, please, I can’t eat no more’, I heard it whimper. I was takenback to last Christmas Eve when I was the same, yet here I was, trapped, stranded in desolation. On the very brink of death itself.  Now I couldn’t have wanted anything, more than food. Salty tears formed in my eyes rapidly, I bit my lip so hard it began to bleed. Crying showed weakness, vulnerability and defeat. That’s what I was told.

Suddenly I heard loud, clumsy footsteps approaching fast. I desperately scrambled but my limbs were lead and my battered bones refused to budge. In despair I took a deep breath and slumped against the wall, closing my eyelids and hoping for at least a measly flicker of tranquillity. I was faced with a dark implacable abyss. It was no use. Nothing was any use. I knew what would happen.

It took everything in me to finally force my eyes open again, returning to the dark, unforgiving hell hole. A blurry figure lurched towards me from the shadows. Brandishing a thick, leather belt, cursing wildly under their breath. Before I had time to think, the figure lashed out. Pain instantly tore across my midriff leaving me stinging, tender and winded. In a feeble attempt to protect myself I hugged my stomach and looked up in anguish as tears pricked my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I heard a malicious, humourless laugh- ‘Don’t cry, crying shows weakness’, they spat.

 A bolt of silver lightning slashed the cloaked night sky leaving it miserable and dreary as raucous roars of thunder shook the village to the core. A storm. This was bad news. Storms meant suffering. The day my life was shattered into shards, there was a storm. This was not good.

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I opened an eye and saw what looked like a distorted outline of a tree. Instead of the overwhelming stench of sour alcohol, urine and the reek of acrid smoke; I was met with a flurry of earthy, sweet, pungent and fresh scents. The sky had a pale blue hue adorned with delicate woolly clouds which were framed with slender, leafy trees, bursting with vibrant blossoms. Vivid birds fluttered blissfully singing in shrill, harmonic voices and bottle green insects darted between luscious bushes, softly humming in glee. I heard a tiny plop and turned to see a dainty pond speckled with delightful flowers I had never laid eyes on. The water was a deep sapphire blue and softly stirred where tiny creatures had disturbed its stillness. I was utterly infatuated with the poise and serenity of the scene. As I carefully peered into the sheet of water before me I glimpsed a girl. Around 15 I would guess. She had long, knotty, chestnut brown hair, cascading in gentle waves far past her shoulders to around her hip, it was matted with blood. Her eyes were dark brown with a bright sparkle and a curious expression, edged with long, thick lashes which somehow seemed familiar. Her skin was pale white but covered in bruises and sores giving it an unhealthy greyish tint. I lifted my finger tip so it lightly grazed the water, causing it to ripple in response. The girl did the same. Then I realised it. I was faced with my reflection.

I was shocked but curious; the last time I saw my reflection must have been years ago. Maybe if I knew it was possibly the last time I would ever see it for about 10 years, I might have looked a little harder and longer. Last night was just a vague smudge on the canvas of my mind but as I lightly ran my tongue over my teeth, tasting my own blood, memories came rushing back.