bluebird {h.s. - au}

.19

The door swung open and the person I saw, standing there, was probably the last person anyone had expected to get us out of this mess.

"Meg?" Harry managed to say through his pain. I had my jaw open in disbelief, but Meg didn't stop for pleasantries. "We've got to get going," she commanded. "They're not far behind."

"How are we going to get out?" I demanded, stepping out of the closet, holding up Harry. Meg moved to his opposite side to help support the weight. 

Meg stared at me. "I don't actually know," she confessed. "I didn't think I'd make it this far."

Harry squeaks, "How'd you get away from Ella's mother?"

Meg blushed. "I was in the loo and heard the latter part of the conversation." She shrugged. "I knew I had to help you guys."

Harry stood up, fully supporting his own weight. "And why?" He shook his head. "Why are you helping us now?"

Meg stepped closer to Harry, nostrils flaring in the dim light. "You know what, Harry? Maybe Ella isn't the only one who's been changed for the better in the last few months." Her eyes flashed multiple colours and emotions, but one remained.

Anger.

I tore them apart, forcing myself to think. "Listen, this isn't the time for fighting," I warned them. "We've got to get out of here."

Harry groaned in pain and nuzzled his head into my neck. Meg rolled her eyes and bit her nails, trying to think.

"We'll have to walk," I said out loud, and Harry muffled a desperate whine into my shoulder. I ran a hand up and down his arm, trying to calm both him and myself down. "We'll walk to Charleston and get a ride back to Auntie Ida's."

Meg nodded. "But how to we get out of here? And how to get Harry to Charleston?"

I chewed on my lip. "My dad used to be in a wheelchair. I'll grab that from the library if you get Harry outside through the window."

Meg rolled her eyes, nodding. "Alright," she promised, taking Harry into her arms. I tried not to be jealous, but Harry grabbed my hand as I turned away.

"Kiss me," he begged, and I complied. The severity of the situation seemed bearable now; a sort of weighable grandeur that existed through the compliance of a wheelchair and a window.

"Meet me by the road," I said softly. "And don't let them see you."

Meg nodded and I left the room softly, creeping down the hallway. The shadows hid me; the muffled sounds of the dogs barking outside only intensified my fear for our escape.

-x-

I got the wheelchair and managed to get it and myself out a downstairs window without any problems. I ran to the road; gasping for air and trying to remain brave. I didn't dare look back; I knew gazing upon the home where I had grown up and spent so many years living would surely mess with my fragile state of mind. 

I did not look back.

I breathed a sigh when I saw Meg and Harry leaning against a tree. Harry's features softened when he saw me; he breathed my name as I neared and pulled me into his soft lips for another kiss before sinking into the wheelchair, wincing slightly.

I ran a hand through his curls, smiling sweetly as his eyelashes fluttered shut at my touch. "Let's go," I said to Meg. 

And so we set off, through the underbrush towards Charleston. And I never went back. I never saw Roselands or my beloved home again. Because, if there's one thing I've learned: it's that sometimes, life starts running, full speed, ahead of you. Danger and oppourtunity do not wait for you to catch up. You either run with life, run wherever it takes you, or you sit back and waste your life away.

I'm glad I chose to run. For, without the running, I wouldn't be where I am today.

I - Elizabeth Marshall - married Harry Edward Styles in the fall of 1865. Meg was my maid of honor. We had a small reception by the stream, and Harry built a house close by. We had our first child- Betsy Anna Mae- in 1873. 

I heard through the grapevine that my Mother and Dr. Phillips married that year, after I left. Dr. Phillips took her money and then proceeded to divorce her and marry someone else entirely. She sent Auntie Ida frequent letters begging for her help, but Ida refused. And I never contacted Mother. I learned she moved to Europe with some actor and died there.

Meg married a boy from down the road; Louis. He was a Britishman himself; he and Harry got along rather well. Meg was genuinely happy with Louis, and they had lots of children that eventually grew up to be important government officials.

As for Betsy, I never saw her again. Every day I'd think of her and wish she could've joined in the freedom this life offered us. She had given everything up to help me and Harry, and I was eternally grateful for that. I may have gotten my happy ending, but she didn't. Sometimes that made me sad; but I know that she was happy to give it up for us. Or else she wouldn't have done it.

If there is one thing I would like to say to end this memoir, it is this: take life as it comes at you. Catch what you want to catch and throw what you want to throw. Deal with life and make each and every moment count. Because life is full of moments; full of moments of love, heartbreak, courage, sadness, tears, laughter and even anger. Moments is what makes up our everyday lives. So make sure each and every moment of yours counts. And don't waste your life. You may only have the day after that to live.

Make it count, my friend.

Make it count.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth Marshall

December 17th, 1901.

T  H  E     E  N  D  .