Sta.sh
Her once-blonde hair was dirty, tangled heavily, and the ends looked brittle as twigs. Her face was smeared with mud, and the clothing she wore could be better described as rags. Her fingernails were short and cracked and, whenever her hands shifted inside of the manacles binding her, I could clearly see the scars stretching around her wrists that said she had been a prisoner for a very long time.
I was a servant.
Perhaps, had I been a king, or even a free man of small stature, we would've met on better terms. Things might've been different.
The first time I set eyes on her was when I was delivering food to the inmates. I was ordered not to speak to any of them, not to even meet their eyes. I was just to throw their bread in and hope that, for their sakes, it didn't get soggy on the stone floor.
I remember what she said just before I threw in her roll.
"Don't." Her voice was dry and cracking from under-use. "You take it," she said.
I remember raising an eyebrow at her.
"I won't eat anything they give me anyway."
And I wanted so badly to ask why. But, instead, I simply ripped it in half and threw one of the halves to her. She caught it clumsily.
"I will if you will." I murmured as softly as I could, certain someone would hear me if I dared speak up.
She took a bite. And so did I.
And then I left.
...
"What is your name?" She asked the next time I saw her, weeks later.
She sounded just a bit better than last time, I thought.
"Fien." I bit a little off her roll carefully before throwing it in. "Your's?"
"Madeline."
And then I left.
...
The next time I did rounds, there was no roll for her.
Her eyes, the color intangible in the dark, were sunken in.
"Kill me," she whispers hoarsely.
"Why?"
"Because, if you don't, they will."
And then I left.
Her eyes, the color intangible in the dark, were sunken in.
"Kill me," she whispers hoarsely.
"Why?"
"Because, if you don't, they will."
And then I left.
...
I never saw her again. I didn't even really know her. She was just a prisoner.
And I was just a servant.
And if someone is to ever ask you if I helped her, if I was the reason she escaped that night so many years ago... If someone were to ask you if I saved her, if I harbor her still, if I love her....
You would say no.
And I was just a servant.
And if someone is to ever ask you if I helped her, if I was the reason she escaped that night so many years ago... If someone were to ask you if I saved her, if I harbor her still, if I love her....
You would say no.
I thinkI would ruin it if I tried continuing...
