Cry Me a River |✔️

Chapter 2- Betrayal

"Pain and suffering are the soil of strength and courage."

Chapter 2
River's POV

I pranced through the marketplace with a jump to my step. I breathed in the cool, crisp air. The smells of spices and fresh vegetables wafted past my nose like a swirling sea of pleasantry. My senses twirled, engulfing in the sound of the chitter-chattering of both sellers and buyers alike. Passer-byres pushed past me at a hasty pace, almost knocking me to the ground as I quickly steadied myself.

Don't get upset, don't get upset.

I took a deep breath, ignoring the rude beings as I continued on to the fruit stands.

The smell of fresh apples and pears whisked past my sensitive nose as I stopped in place, eyes shuttering closed as I smiled briefly to myself.

Aah, how I wished I could live in the market. To awake every morning to the smell of fresh fruit and foreign teas. To gain the freedom and sense of adventure that came with the vivid atmosphere of the brightly-colored marketplace.

Sounds of giggling and slight movement pulled me from my thought as I peered down. Two young children squicked, laughing playfully as they ran around my legs, chasing one another. I giggled as they smiled up at me with toothy grins before racing past me and around the legs of others, who seemed less than pleased as they grumbled and swatted at them. They remained uncaring, however, as they giggled lightly with one another, taking advantage of the swatting hands of foreigners and sellers by creating obstacles of them, dodging and jumping like two excited puppies as they continued on to the market square.

"Tom! Sarah!" A woman screamed, standing behind a stand of pears, waving a stained handkerchief in the direction of the small children before dropping it and mumbling aggravatingly beneath her breath and turning back to her customer, hands moving in all directions as she spoke in a foreign tongue.

The man dressed in a sparkling attire, unlike the normal dress in the village. We were a modest bunch, usually dressing in browns and grays. However, he dressed in a robe-like attire, appearing almost the same color as the red apples in the stand before him. But none turned their heads in his direction nor paid him any mind as he spoke in an unknown language. After all, this was a port. People from nations far and wide arrived here at all times as stop-offs to their destination. He was not the first to come in such a flamboyant attire and he was definitely not to be the last.

As he spoke I drowned out those around me and focused. I could pick up similar vowels and sounds, understanding to a degree what he was saying, yet not completely. After years of visiting the marketplace and listening in on the chitter-chatter amongst foreigners, I had begun to develop an ear for a couple languages, a strange familiarity for sounds and vowels that I could recognize yet put no name to. I wished I could know more, to learn all kinds of languages and aspects of knowledge, to be able to pick up any book and absorb anything and everything on the page. Though I couldn't. Because of my father, I had been pulled out of school earlier than I had wished, causing my education to be cut short. I wished I could have stayed longer, to have learned more. But that would only be in a perfect world; a world in which I could control my own future, my own present.

I continued walking toward the rows of fruit, settling on a small, apple stand.

"Good morning, River." Mrs. Havings smiled at me. I blushed and looked down.

After my repeated visits to the marketplace, it came as no surprise to slowly become familiar with those who manned the stands. Though, that didn't make it any less embarrassing when spoken to. I may have found enjoyment in watching others, but I most certainly did not want the act to be reversed. I knew how others viewed me, that no matter what sugar-coated words they'd manage to speak, they didn't like what they saw. No being in the right mind wanted to be reminded of their own vile appearance.