It was one hell of a day, one hell of a week. And I knew that from the moment I opened my eyes. Each day was a new kind of hell.
By now, I'd been to hell and back.
"Arya!" The voice snapped through my bedroom door, causing my skin to crawl, my hairs to stand on end, and a timely shiver running up my vertebrates. I clenched my jaw and turned my head. "What?" I asked, in the most polite way I could muster, which wasn't very, the voice behind the brown wooden door rambled on and on, becoming white noise.
I traced two of my skinny fingers down my cheek, then back up, over my dark brow and up to meet my dark brown hair, watching myself with hazel eyes in the mirror, each slow movement, each proving me with satisfaction or disappointment, the way the brown locks slid through the gaps in my fingers, tickling my hand, bringing a euphoric moment to my solemn day, or the way I would see myself, as an ugly child, underweight, bruised from beatings from my guardian, a supposed good friend of my mother's, or that's what I had been told. For that's all I knew, I didn't know my mother, nor the family I had missed out on. I was alone.
I couldn't see myself the way I wanted to, I stood motionless in front of the mirror, pupils widening as my eyes crossed the mirror with the reflection of the light, my index finger tracing my heart shaped face, the paleness of my skin, looking deadly in contrast to the black bruise fixed onto my cheekbone. I chuckled softly, the corner of my mouth turning upwards into the form of a smile, I was short, always had been. I could almost imagine the jokes that could come from it, the ones I'd tell my friends, if I had friends.
"Girl!" The harsh voice snapped.
The comforting hand fell from my face and when I turned to look at her, the bitch who had to look after me, my own face fell almost as sour as hers, she hadn't looked that moody for ages, and I knew I was in deep shit. I gulped and frowned. "I don't...I didn't do anything" I said kind of amused, I had to bring some light to these situations myself, no one else would. "No. But your mother has. And now, your 18. It's time to see, if you are what she was. That damn witch" she spoke loudly, bursting into the room and grabbing my hair. "She wasn't a witch." I groaned, rolling my eyes in defeat, I'd be surprised if this woman had met my mother once, I didn't even know my mother's name, though I guess I shouldn't care.
I picked my feet up just in time to keep up with her dragging, my short hair being pulled on only slightly making it hurt more than if it were long. "What do you mean...?" She hushed my with a slap to my face, pulling and yanking me every which way into the sun outside. I stopped, I could almost enjoy the feel of the warmth against my pale skin, bringing me life and joy, it was one of the secret things I admired, life, it's beauty, the nature. That was until the clothes on my body began to uncomfortably stick to my body, and my vision went blurry. I had been pushed into the outside pool, it was only a small thing, but enough to submerge me. I gasped, water filling my mouth and I immediately forced myself to stop breathing, I didn't need the water going down my throat. What. A bloody swimming test was supposed to prove if I was a witch. I writhed in the water, punching and kicking, my body practically convulsing as the panic set in, I couldn't swim, I hadn't had the love of any parent or sibling to show me how. I sank down. I closed my eyes, terrified, and I almost let out a gasp underwater feeling my feet collide, I pushed with the strength I had, with what little food I had in my system to keep me going.
I resurfaced with a coughing fit, grasping at the edges of the pool, hands grabbed onto my shoulders and hauled me out from the side, my hair was dripping, plastered to my face, blocking part of my vision, though I didn't wish to see how wet I was, for I could feel the chill setting in already, my top plastered to my stomach, to my ribs, letting me see every breath taken, though breathing now hurt. I heard her whisper in my ear. "Did you know, witches have spurned the sacrament of baptism, it's thought that the water would reject their body and prevent them from submerging. You know. You're not innocent. Just because you failed the first test." It was her opinion of course, the Salem accords hadn't changed anything in her mind. I sat hunched over on my knees, shivering. "First?"
The next tests, were not as pleasant as the first, they gradually grew worse upon my beaten body, I was tired, my throat sore with being made to repeat verses from the Bible, each time I made a mistake she'd scream witch and lash her belt onto my weak skin, making it appear red. I had tried again and again, the previous experience making my tongue tied and my mind unfocused. "Ask...ask and it shall be given you, seek, and you shall find. Her that knocketh, shall be opened unto you. For everyone that asketh, receiveth. And he that seeketh, findeth. To him that knocks, shall be open. That binds the kingdom, the power of the lord. Forever, and ever." That was almost a peaceful part of the day, to know that someone might be with me. I groaned and turned around.
I closed my eyes, shivering my body as I recollected the tests that ravaged my body to the ultimate extreme, my back sore and broken against the brick wall, the only cloth covering me was my bra and shorts, the things I had been allowed to place back on myself after the disappointment of the truth being revealed, a mark, the witch's mark, on the inner of my thigh, of course, the trousers were the last to me forcibly removed from my body, the sun burning my skin, my bones still cold, body still shivering. I had one arm held protectively over my breasts, they were an average size, not small, but not too large, and I was moderately comfortable with them, though now, she had ripped that away from kee too. I could only help but think about the way that the woman, my caretaker had poked and prodded at my body, hands pulling and my hips, my legs, groping my breasts, and the burns and punched and cuts she placed around my thigh, on my birthmark in which she had located, all the while whispering the ancient ways of a witch trial. "You know they can change shale and colour, numb and insensitive to pain." She had hissed, though I had felt every beating she'd given me. "No witches teat, no moles, scars, birthmarks sores, no tattoos either" she had hummed, yet, the mark still remained. Her words cut deep, I had done nothing, but my mother, accused of being a witch, she was dead, killed long ago in an unfortunate incident.
I felt a presence near me and flinched, my body hurt beyond anything I'd ever felt. "I'm not..." I whispered. The woman knelt down and eyed me up, her eyes traveling back down to my legs, she gripped what she could of my thigh, mails digging in, tugging up the leg of my shorts to reveal the mark I had upon my skin, my leg tensed and it wasn't until the cigarette in her hand touched the flesh of my thigh that I screamed, I shot forwards and my hand instinctively wrapped around her wrist, trying to pry it off my body, I could see her face fall and she backed up instantly. She turned around and dropped to the floor, I smiled slightly, glad she wasn't able to hurt anyone me. My eyes began to close and I enjoyed the silence, there was a humming in my ear, the wind picked up and I could see people running towards me, cautiously watching out for others, I was dazed, my body pushed to it's extreme, I didn't even have the strength to flinch when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Daughter" she whispered, her voice quite thick with worry, but also held some authority to it. I raised my hand to her wrist, shaky fingers grasping onto it lightly. "Ask and it shall be given..." I inhaled, then exhaled, the breath failing to come out without pain, the statement I could not complete. "Ask..." I croaked out.
"General" I heard someone say, though my hearing may have been muffled, that was definitely what I heard. I felt a hand cup my chin gently, and I widened my eyes to clearly see a middle aged woman, absolutely beautiful, a face structured so well, she was tall, she loomed over me, though crouched in front of me, I could vaguely acknowledge that her hair was the same colour as mine, longer, and fastened into a braid, before the soft, gentle hand cupping my chin sent my body into a state of warmth and comfort, into a net of safety so much so my eyes closed and my head fell forward onto the woman's chest, passing out from exhaustion.
All I knew. Was that a general had saved me.
