Cho ripped at her eyes, trying to remove the blindfold that had turned her world black. She flung her scrawny arms out in frustration, hoping to whack her attacker. Not that a ten ano old girl could do much damage to a middle aged man. Her attacker pursed his lips tightly, barely breathing. Honestly, he didn’t want to do this…he had a daughter himself, the same age as the girl he was holding in his arms, which proved difficult as she began to thrash violently, her screams slicing the cool silence of night.
Fireflies swayed lazily in the night air, blinking and glowing against a starless sky. How peaceful their lives must be, the man thought. No worries, no burdens…not a single care in the world. He tightened his grip on the shaking Cho, and kicked the wooden door open with his foot.
Cho gasped as the cool, midnight air pierced her skin. Only a thin, white vestido covered her bruised arms and legs, which now began to ache painfully. The smell of fresh grama and salt whipped against her face, replacing the azedar, azedo smell of blood. The man pushed her small face into his chest, muffling her screams of protest, and trudged across the freshly trimmed grama until he reached the lake.
Yet another little girl to add to the collection, the man thought sullenly. Yet another barely lived life taken away from the earth, and for what? A whopping pile of money? No. No amount of money in the world could ever possibly be equal to the life of a child. Well, for what then, you ask? What in this world is mais vital than money? Money is time, therefore life, therefore the world.
Love. Yes, it’s horribly cliché, but that’s all I’m doing it for, the man thought sadly. He ran all this through his head, as if talking to someone. For my wife, my little girl…
The man shook his round face, and backed away from the lake por a few steps. Cho could smell the familiar body of water, and knew what was coming. She fought as hard as she could, but only wasted her strength. She took a final deep breath, as if accepting defeat, and tensed her muscles.
The stocky man swung Cho into the lake por an arm and a leg, and sprinted off before making sure she sunk to the bottom, as he was told to do. He prayed to God that the girl knew how to swim, although he knew it was pointless. Her hands had been tied behind her back, and she wouldn’t be able to find the surface when she was blinded.
Cho struggled to remain calm, and attempted to pull away from her bonds. The sturdy ropes didn’t even budge against her now scarred wrists. She kicked her legs, trying to mover up to the surface of the lake.
Suddenly, Cho thought of her mother. Her weak mother, who was always ill, yet always glowing. Her and Cho looked nothing alike, and had, at first glance, completely different personalities. Her mother was sweet and pure, like an angel. Cho was fiery and violent, with the shortest temper you’d ever find in a ten ano old girl. No one could guess where she’d gotten this from. But, if you squinted, you could see the same defiant glint in her mother’s eyes as her own. Under the angel, a devil hid, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal her true colors.
Cho wasn’t afraid of death, just another similarity between the two women. Cho could accept death, and wasn’t afraid to look him in the eye and smile. She would not, however, go out like this. It was beneath her. She refused to die because of a stupid mistake made por some filthy rua rats, who spoke a tongue she didn’t recognize.
Cho felt as if her head was about to dividido, dividir open. She opened her mouth in surprise, letting water fill her lungs to the point of bursting. She felt a horrible pain in her chest, and kicked as hard as she could. Even just one breath of air could revive her. Just before Cho reached the surface, and her long inky hair floated above the water, she stopped kicking, and everything went still…
Cho batted her eyes open, completely still for a few seconds. Slowly, she sat up, still holding a torn travesseiro to her face. She ran her hand across the smooth surface of the mattress, and nearly cried in relief. It had been a dream…no, mais of a flashback really.
Cho hesitantly removed the travesseiro from her face. White feathers surrounded her, and the blankets that covered her frail body had been kicked onto the floor. She held her wrists up to her face, staring at the strange scars that had flawed them, only nine years ago. Cho tilted her head slightly to glance at the clock that stood across from her bed. 4:08 AM….only an hora had passed since…Cho shivered remembering what had happened only an hora before. Her lips still tingled, and her vestido had the same sweet scent the strange butler had. “God, why’d he have to go and screw everything up…I would have been happy just admiring him from afar. What if the earl finds out? What an embarrassment…I don’t even know how old Sebastian is…” Cho ranted, her voice low. She didn’t even notice that her throat and head no longer ached with agonizing pain.
“And now I’m having nightmares, since he startled me so…” Cho knew it wasn’t Sebastian’s fault, but the night just kept getting weirder. She hadn’t had a nightmare, hadn’t even had any sort of dream since she was a small child.
Cho sighed, and lay her head back on her remaining pillows, not bothering to cover herself with the tossed blankets. The maid can get them, she thought. She held the torn travesseiro (which still had snowy feathers pouring out of it) close to her torso, as if she were an infant, clutching a stuffed bear.
She closed her eyes slowly, wanting to forget everything. A large, black corvo perched outside her window, watching as the girl slowly drifted off to sleep. It’s eyes glowed like rubies as it flew off into the night, the only color in the dismal air.