The Scarlett Maiden

Ten: Splinters and All

Chapter Ten

The most unfortunate aspect of living spontaneously was without a doubt the walking.

It was something I'd come accustom to over the years, and despite the light wind blowing the smell of roses to my nostrils, soft moon illuminating my path, and sharp squeak of cicadas in my eardrum I was still not a fan.

I arrived home nearly two hours after my self-established curfew, and the guilt clawed in my chest like a child who has just thrown his ball into the china cabinet. One glance at the darkened windows, and I was on my way to the guesthouse.

A very small part of me noted that breaking the window because of my lack of key wasn't something to be proud of, but once the deed was done, I found a triumphant smile cemented on my face for the first time all day.

I stumbled my way over to bookshelf, and in seconds the room was filled with the warm glow of candlelight. My eyes scan the perimeter of the room, now bare of any signs of the brightness that had lived here only hours ago.

Depression swallows me without any sort of warning, and with it comes its best friend, loneliness. My tooth grazes my lip at the feelings, and I find myself taking hold of one of the only books on the shelf. Without taking time to read the title I take it and the candle, and walk swiftly over to the double straw bed.

"Romeo and Juliet," I murmur to myself, setting the candle down.

Coincidently, it was one of my favorite works of Shakespeare. Most of it was because it was set in my hometown, but I also loved the tragedy of it. I love how they lived those few weeks of their lives brighter than anyone who lived longer had. It was true love. Swallowing, I relax my shoulders, open the book, and read with as much passion I can muster.

I'm instantly taken with the story, more specifically, the voice of the characters. Romeo is instantaneously a nuisance to me, but I enjoy the thoughts of his friend, Mercuito. It is in the fourth scene of the play, that my heart clenches with recognition. It is when the two are arguing on whether not to attend a party, just as I had when I met Alana. It is not, however, the memory of that night that makes me stop. It is the words that Romeo speaks- the exact same way I feel at the moment, in relation to my disagreement with Alana.

My fingers shake as I re-read the passage aloud to myself, the sound of my voice hardly audible. "
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn."

I shake my head, goose bumps invading my skin. I had not noticed the clarity to his statement the first time I'd read this story. I could, however, remember the response to it.

I breathe deeply, and my eyes only glance at it for moment before I'm on my feet, blowing out the candle and walking to the door.


"If love be rough with you, be rough with love;Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down."

There really was no question as to where I was headed.

I start off in a light jog, my feet sliding against my trousers at only a slightly faster pace than normal. When my destination comes into view, my legs go into an all out sprint, and I know that my thighs will have red spots from the friction. I could care less, and I simply keep running until I'm where it is I need to be.

I find her just outside the front gate, and the sight of her does more than erase my confused thoughts. My entire world seems just a few shades lighter, and I quite literally feel like falling.

She sits on the porch, her hair surrounding her face as she lightly strokes pencil against paper, completely oblivious to my presence. I nod to myself, forcing my breathing to a normal rate and realizing that I am not in the slightest sure of what it is I want to say to her. She's completely scattered my brain, just by being here.