Set during the snowball fight between Gemma and Ann in Rebel Angels, sorry if it's not entirely accurate! Ann's POV because Ann is always the silent one, the one in the shadows.
I am lost in my mind again, unable to find a way out, "I haven't ten pairs of stockings at the ready, as you do" I had said, it repeats over and over, stinging each time. How could I have been so stupid, sounded so whiney. All I want is acceptance, but no one will give it to me, not even Gemma, I can see she tires of me, so I go back to my oldest friend as punishment for everything, anything I have done or said wrong; pain. Pain has always been my friend; I dig my nails into my palms now, letting the pain built, until I feel it in the half moon indent no doubt left behind, a reminder that will fade soon.
Head down I am unprepared for the compacted snow that Gemma has sent my way. I feign disgust at how she has once again made me wetter, not yet ready to let the gloom leave, only to have it return soon, too soon. But as another ball is thrown my way I cannot help but feel a splash of happiness at being included once again rise, I try to quell it, but it will not let me.
"Come on, then, Ann. Are you going to allow me to keep punishing you? Or are you going to take your revenge?" At that I feel a sudden onslaught of bitter anger, I want to punish her, I want her to take it back, she has no idea what I go through every day. Gemma has everything, friends, family, money, and she knows it, what she does not realise is that I have none of these things, not truly, and now she is accusing me of being too quiet. When behind every word I have to hide the scream that longs to be free, to tell the world that I am hurting, all the time, analysing every sentence for hidden meanings. And if, when I become a governess I let the screams free, then I will be dismissed with no hope at all.
I am throwing the snow at her in retaliation before I have time to think, for one second I have lost control, and that second could make her hate me, in my future it could mean worse.
"That isn't fair!" she shouts "I've no ammunition." I freeze, a rabbit caught in a too-bright searchlight. This is it, I know she'll never like me now, I have stepped the wrong way again, will it be the last time that I do? Mentally I prepare myself once again for complete rejection, never seen, never heard, as I was before Gemma.
Suddenly Gemma strikes, she had got ammunition, she lied. I feel the sting as the snow slaps my cheek, reprimanding me for trusting.
"You said- " I start, but she does not let me finish, perhaps it is too stupid for her superior mind. I try to stop the torrent of bitterness that envelopes me, but it is harder to shift than I would like.
"Ann, do you always do as you're told? This is war!" Yes, I answer her, yes I do, I must. But as she said, this is war, against loneliness, against oppression, again servitude. I will let go of my cares, at least for a while, I gather together another handful of snow to throw at her, and as she does the sense of friendship brings an unexpected high. I no longer care that my stockings and dress are sodden, I will get her, for fun. And then I shall take on the rest of the country and society that has always said I was rubbish, worthless. In that moment I feel all-powerful, able to take on whatever the world throws at me.
Then Gemma stumbles, her boots caught in the mud under the snow and a dark arm snakes out to catch her before she falls, dragging her into the trees. I am alone again. My smile fades, however hard I try to hold on to the euphoria that had held me moments before.
I am alone; I will always be alone, on the edge, never quite in there. I turn away from the trees, calling for Gemma, though I know where she is, she can have her privacy with Kartik while Fee moons over Pip. I shall turn once again to my old friend and tormenter. I see a stick under the trees near where Gemma and Kartik stand, talking and perchance doing worse, I do not want to eavesdrop, but I need to be punished for failing again. For letting them leave again. For not being good enough.
When Gemma returns from her rendezvous I act like the perfect friend, act like nothing has happened. Pretend I'm happy. Pretend I don't know where she just went. Pretend I'm not dying inside. Pretend there's not another gash across my arm, more savage this time, splinters stuck along its length.
This is me, always pretending, always hoping one day I can do something right. Hoping that one day someone will notice me; that someday I will move out of the shadows and into the light. I laugh at myself, at my romantic delusions that I know will never come true. Life is harsh, life demands that I serve and feign happiness through anything that happens
I want to tell the world what I think of its rules, but I know I won't, I will forever remain the silent screamer.