Bloody Honor

My face seemed hallowed, with my baggy eyes, and my cheek bones sharp beneath my skin. My cloudy grey eyes stared intently at the reflection. I finally sighed and let my fingers run through my charcoal colored hair wondering what I did to deserve this. Tired of not sleeping, tired of seeing how bad I looked, and emotionally exhausted, I rang the servant’s bell. Within moments my servant, May, was at my door.
“What can I do for you miss?” she asked breathless, and still in her night clothes.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need a bath. If you’ll get the hot water, I can handle the rest…” I said.
She nodded and left. I pulled out my tub from the closet, and set it next to the fire place. I quickly lighted a fire, and found some nice bath soap. May came back up the stairs, into my room, and looked horrified at the fact I had done all of what I did.
“Miss, I could’ve done that for you!” She cried.
I laughed dryly, “May, believe it or not I am capable of doing some things.”
Her gingery red hair and hazel like eyes shone in the crackling fire light, “But not when your sick miss!”
The words stung, I hated being called sick. I turned my head, “May, I am not sick. I can’t sleep, because of the nightmares. I can’t eat, because the sight of food makes me sick to my stomach. It seems bad right now, but it will pass. I t always does.”
“But miss your in such a fragile state! It’s never been near this bad! You haven’t slept but a wink all this week, and the only thing you’ve eaten is a couple pieces of toast that you almost spilled on the floor! If you want to do something miss, relax!” She said almost angrily.
I almost slapped her senseless, but felt sick just at the memory of eating that horrid toast. I felt the taste in my mouth, and smelled the marmalade. I felt woozy remembering swallowing it; I didn’t even keep it down. When no one was looking I threw up. I turned my back to her and sat down while softly saying, “The bath water’s getting cold.”
She didn’t say another word as she filled up the tub, and poured in the bath soap. She finally finished and stood, “Good night miss…”
I didn’t answer, just waiting for her to leave. She did and I slowly got up, and un-dressed. Slipping down into the hot water I felt relaxed, and untroubled. Leaning back my head I listened to the crackling fire. I closed my eyes and let the memories take over…

“Come on darling, it’s time to go.” My mother said trying to lull me out the door.
“Where are we going mummy?” I asked.
She smiled, “We are going to see a handsome young man that you,” she pocked my nose affectionately and we both giggled, “Are betrothed to.”
“Betrothed?”
“It means your going to marry him when you get older,” She said.
I wrinkled my noise, “But what if I don’t like him?”
“Well how about we see it we like him first, and then decide on that one, ok?”
“Ok… Mother, what’s his name?” I asked as we made our way to the carriage.
“Timothy,” She said. “It means honor.”
“Can I call him Timmy?”
My mother laughed, “We’ll just have to wait and see won’t we?”
I nodded and for the rest of the carriage ride, we counted sheep, horses, and other animals. When we got to the house, I excitedly scurried down from my seat, and out of the carriage. My mother told me to be polite as possible, and took my hand. We walked up to the door and saw a young boy sitting on the steps. He had dark hair and eyes, and seemed to be just about my older brother’s age. This made me very happy because I loved my brother, and we together played all the time.
“Timothy?” My mother asked.
The boy looked up and smiled politely.
“Hello darling, this is Angelina.”
“I’m Timothy,” he said standing up.
“Well Timothy darling, I’m very glad to meet you.” Mother smile was uneasy. “I was also looking forward to speaking with your parents; do you know where they are?”
He nodded, “They’re inside talking to Lord Cirillo.”
My mother suddenly paled, “Cirillo?” She croaked.
“Yes, he’s my eldest brother really, but he’s not very nice; not very nice at all.” Timothy said.
I waited for mother to say, ‘Now that’s not very proper is it?’ But she didn’t, she picked me up and said, “Timothy, I think you should come with us…”
Timothy took her hand, and I was scared because my mother’s voice was scared. My mother was never scared and the fact that she was, scared me.
“He’s not that bad, but he bites people…” Timothy said. “He bit me once, and he bit mummy and daddy too.”
Mother completely dropped Timothy’s hand, “He bit you?”
Yes, was what I thought he was going to say, but Timothy now looked guilty and said softly, “No…”
“Darling if he bit you, it’s ok, but I need to know…”
Timothy nodded, and mother suddenly seemed to have a new light on the situation at hand. She put me down and said, “I want you two to hide in those bushes, and I don’t want you to come out, no mater what!”
“But mother?!” I cried.
“Shh, darling this is very important and I need you to be brave, ok?”
I sniffed, and nodded. Timothy and I ran to the bush and hide.
A tall, towering figure came out of the building, and my mother seemed to know him. He had dark hair, and blood red eyes, and a sneaking sort of smile.
“Why, hello! It’s been such a long time; tell me did you bring your daughter?” He asked.
“Why are you doing this, Cirillo?” My mother said coldly.
Cirillo frowned, “Now, what kind of manners are those?”
“I said why, Cirillo!” My mother yelled.
Cirillo replied angry now, “Because I want power… I want to be a Lord, and you have been, are, and that daughter of yours will be. Therefore, I need to kill you both.”
He smiled and flung my mother to the wall.
No, is what I wanted to cry out but my voice wouldn’t let me.
Timothy stood in front of me as I tried to run out, “She said no matter what.” His voice was calm. He took me by the hand and pulled me to the stable. I heard a blood curdling scream, and tired again to run back to her. “No!” Timothy said. He made me step up onto a stool and then helped me onto a large ginger colored horse.
I had been crying before because of my mother, and now noticed a cut on my cheek. It was bleeding and Timothy must’ve noticed it too. He got up on the stool and stood on his tippy-toes whispering, “Hold on tight to Spice’s mane, hug his neck if you have to, but don’t stop. He’ll take you all the way to town, and then you’ll have to show him how to get to your house.”
“What about you, and mother?” I asked.
He hesitated before saying, “We’ll be fine.” He kissed my cheek and I swear I saw him lick his lips of the blood. He slapped the Spice’s rear end and it went running full speed. He ran past my mother, and I saw Cirillo holding her around the neck, and blood dripping down her forehead. She smiled and me, and I yelled, “Mother!!” I reached back for her, but the horse kept running. I kicked Spice’s sides, and yelled for him to stop. I finally gave up and hugged his neck, letting hot tears spill down my cheek and sting the cut across my cheek. I never saw Timothy or my mother ever again.

I cried remembering my mother’s face. The blood, the smile… That was the vision that haunted my nightmares. I also have never had much of an appetite after that. Seeing food, smelling food, swallowing food, it all makes me gag. Doctors have said that is was a side effect of the traumatic experience, and had told my older brother and father that if I were to die it would be of starvation. My father couldn’t handle that along with the loss of my mother, and drank himself to death. My older brother made me promise not to starve myself to death. He said that he wouldn’t know what to do if I died. I promised, and now after eleven years I have kept such a promise. I realized that the water was now cold, and decided I would try once more to sleep.