Caesaria

IXX

Lucy was alone, for the first time in many mornings. Normally, she embraced solitude; she could read, or she could daydream, and normally, explore. Of course, with a busted leg, that was out of the picture. She'd thought she could be lazy for a few weeks -- the leg was an excuse to avoid many of the chores she didn't particularly like -- but she quickly concluded that she'd rather be entertaining suitors or hunting with Hanson than lie in bed all day.

But besides that, this wasn't the right kind of solitude. It was almost like abandonment. But for what? There was something wrong; Lucy felt it in the air, felt it prickle her skin. Mother had given her a quick, skimpy explanation of, "having duties to attend with your father". Official business, speaking to the tribe about all that had happened this past month. Okay, Lucy had thought, what kind of duties? Amelia had been short in that regard. Just speeches, love. Nothing to worry about. I should be back before noon.

It had only been perhaps an hour since her mother had shut her bedroom door, leaving her in her covers. But Lucy had simply been sitting and staring, all with a growing sense of unease. What was going on?

She thought of something. She looked to where her crutches would've been, in the corner next to her bed. They were gone. She searched the room for them, already knowing she wouldn't find them. Yeah, she concluded. Something's going on down there and mom doesn't want me to know.

She felt the heat rise in her stomach, the anger reddening her face. But she was quick to quell it. This wasn't the first time her mother had pulled a stunt like this. And this wouldn't be the first time Lucy overcame it, or at least tried to.

Carefully, placing her good hand on the bed to hold her balance, she shifted her legs, placing her feet upon the floor. Even that small amount of weight was enough to make her groan. Face scrunched, crying in pain as jolts shot through her broken bones, she forced herself to stand. Almost instantly, she crashed to her knees, and felt agony overtake her. Her knee exploded, and she screamed bloody murder. She fell to the floor, writhing, gathering herself; she was at least grateful she'd managed to fall on her good arm, but her bad arm still complained. Greatly.

She wondered if anybody would've heard her, but nobody came. She came to two conclusions; everybody was either down in the village (save perhaps some guards along the hill), or they had been instructed to leave her in her room. Lucy was even willing to bet her mother had locked her bedroom door.

Get up, she barked at herself. Get up, get up right now. This is nothing. You fell down a waterfall, you can get up from a fall to your knees.

She put all her weight into her good leg, gripping the bedpost. Tears pooled in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and blotting her deerskin shift. Standing on one foot, fighting the urge to drop, she thought her chest might split open.

She grappled the post like she might rip it off the bed. She cursed her mother, that bitch, taking her crutches like that. She glared at her bruised and broken body, teeth clenched.

"You don't need a crutch," she hissed. "She should know that by now."

She forced herself to her feet once more, ghosting the tips of her broken toes on the floor. She stifled a gasp, and, releasing the bedpost, took her first step. She wanted to cry, roll up in a ball, even if her ribs might've killed her. But you can't. You can't. You need to get down there. You know what's happening. You need to stop it.

Her first goal was the wall. If she could make it to the wall, she could skirt next to it until she got to the door. She would grip the crown molding and shimmy along through the hallway, until she reached the stairs. And so she did; when she reached the wall, she lay her back to it, fingers wrapping around the shallow, crumbling particle trim, leaving divots with her nails. She felt the dust under her nails as she slid along, focusing hard on that sensation to distract from the pain. She turned the doorknob, surprised at the fact her mother hadn't locked it, and almost questioning it. She made it a few steps out into the hall, but caught one of her toes upon the wooden flooring in the doorway. Again, she crashed, this time, on her chest, and she saw stars. The pain made everything go dark, like her chest was filled with knives. She couldn't breathe.