Eversight

Blondie

I heard heavy footsteps behind me. I turned a slight, using my peripheral. I pivoted, seeing the male's figure. A blonde, tall man, in a suit, stood above me.

"Niamh, who is this?" The man yelled.

I backed up a bit, placing my hand on the fireplace, quickly whipping it back, my hand was burnt. I turned back.

The man approached, grabbing my chin and squinting at my face. He examined my face for around 30 seconds, before letting go and turning.

Niamh stood, terrified in the doorway. The man glared at her, his face was almost as red as the fire in the fireplace.

I glared at Niamh, I could see the bruised skin under her gown.

She stood there silently.

The man turned back to me, pointing to the door.

I rushed out, into the crowded town, I ignored the stares, a 23-year-old woman in her nightgown outside was mainly frowned upon. I sighed. I glared through the window.

The man raised his fist, pounding Niamh's face.

I gasped.

Niamh was on the floor, the man kicked and kicked.

I rushed inside, I grabbed the man's arm. He turned in fury. Before he could land a hit, I slapped him, hard. I glanced behind him swiftly. Niamh was standing, her face was bloodied and bruised. I nodded at her a bit. The man regained his balance. Niamh punched his spine, he lurched. I kicked his stomach.

The man was on the ground.

"Stop, please.." He groaned.

Niamh kicked his head a final time. He grunted in pain. Niamh grabbed my arm, we rushed out, faster than an ox.

"Oh, my goodness." Niamh panted.

I grabbed Niamh's arm, running and pacing throughout the crowds, men and women, gowns, and suits. A parasol hit my face, I ran, holding onto Niamh's arm. I stopped in the forest, glancing around. Where is the house? I panicked, running in a random direction. The trees flew past, my feet slamming into the grass, the sun glared into my eyes. We stopped by a small, log cabin. Niamh coughed violently.

I grabbed her, rushing inside the cabin. The wooden flooring splintered my feet. All of my belongings remained. I grabbed the flint I left by the fireplace and lit the logs aflame. The fire gushed the cabin with warm air. Niamh had sat down on the small sofa, holding her forehead. I walked over.

"Move your hand, please." I sighed.

Niamh did as told, moving her hand and exposing the bloodied open wound on her forehead. I spun, rummaging in the drawers. I grabbed a pantyhose legging, dunking it into the small, metal, water-filled basin. I began to wring out the pantyhose, I turned to Niamh and began to wrap it around her head. Her brown hair was knotted and messy, it tangled with the pantyhose, yet I still bound the wound. She winced a bit. I wiped the rest of the blood off of her face. Niamh lied down on the mustard yellow, wool sofa.