elizabeth's hatbox

twenty-one;

dear noah,

polite, happy breigh saintcroix is much, much braver than i had thought. and much more experienced.

"so it's true? what i thought was true?" she wasn't surprised. her expression was a cross between elation and relief. she looked just as pretty, just as calm. and this made me want to reach out and hug her and hug her and hug her.

and i did. i hugged her tight and she hugged me back and i felt this unusual warmth and comfort between the two of us. something i had never witnessed before. and it was nice, noah. the feeling had confirmed how i could rely on breigh and vice versa. when i let go of her, i nodded. she let out a long sigh.

"i knew elizabeth was innocent. her face said it. it had an expression of pure protest and even though she was older than me, she was unbeknown to a lot of things. things i had faced earlier. things she would have faced, sara-emmaline."

"what do you mean?" i had asked her.

she smiled a sad, sad smile and then looked down. "allan was one of his, what, cronies? he had taught all of his loyal followers that we females were solely for their use, whether we liked it or not. his name was darren. darren ports. he was expelled after, well. do you get me?"

i got her. i got her all right.

"much further than mildred had gone with elizabeth. but i lived. i still lived." she looked away and a soft sob escaped her lips. and i was horrified.

two girls, noah. elizabeth and breigh. one died midway and the other lived through all of it. but they were people, and they were harrassed this way, and expelling that bastard was nothing close to justice. sure, breigh escaped the hate because people realized what was right, but elizabeth. allan was still here, and elizabeth was still hated, thought of in disgust.

and someone needed to change that.