Disgrace
Bark! The sound of the hounds fills my ears. I don't care that they are getting closer. It's just me and the lake. This extraordinary lake. My extraordinary lake. The moon's reflection glitters on the surface of the water. I bend over and pick up a pebble and toss it into the phony moon. The image distorts before returning back to normal. I make my way to the edge of the lake and peer into the dark, murky depths. I see my mirror image; pastel skin covered in bruises and cuts as well as dark hair with leaves and twigs as accessories. My nightgown, tattered and torn, is comfortable for the first time.
I bend over and pick up a handful of pebbles. This time I aim them at my reflection. This amuses me even more than throwing them at the moon. I do it again and again laughing each time. It's been way too long since I've had fun like this. Maybe I'll have more fun where I'm going.
I look up from my reflection and gaze around the lake. The black waters are hugged by sagging tree trunks and mossy tree branches. The beaches are covered in lots of small pebbles the size of a pennies. I take a deep breath and relax. I step into the water and close my eyes.
Clack. The sound of the pencil falling out of my hand for the sixth time fills my ears. No matter how hard I try, I can't hold the yellow stick at all. It's too long. If I had a smaller one it would be easier, but Mother says that a young lady writes with large pencils and pens. I don't even know what that means. I pick up the pencil and try again. It slips through my grasp just like everything else I have ever held. I glare at the pencil on my desk. I pick it up tightly in my hand. I raise my arm. The door to my study opens. It's Father. My arm shoots down.
Father is an aged man. The stress lines on his face make him look much older than he really is. Years of keeping a company in tip top shape does that to many young men. He strides over to me and looks down at me. He glances at my blank paper and the pencil in my hand.
"You have yet to write anything, Hinata." He said in his bass voice.
"I apologize father. I have been having trouble with this pencil." I reply, holding out the pencil. My voice is to childlike compared to his.
"The problem is not the pencil," He said coldly. He turns away and exits my study not even sparing me a second glance. I jump out of my chair. I throw the pencil to the ground and violently stomp on it. By the time I finish there is nothing left, but a broken stick of wood. I tidy up my hair and brush some of the wrinkles out of my dress. I plop myself back in my chair, open the desk drawer and pull out another pencil.
Slap. I fell to the ground holding my bright red cheek. Tears stain the sides of my face. Mother stands above me looking at me in disgust. She holds out a piece of paper.
"What is this?" she asks, her voice dripping with venom. I stare at the article through blurry eyes. All I see is plain white.
"A b-blank sheet of paper," I tell her, the words come out cracked and horse. My throat is dry and my mouth is salty from the tears. I don't understand why she is so angry over a blank sheet of paper.
"Exactly," she says. "This is a BLANK sheet of paper. Didn't I tell you to write on all the papers I gave you? Why is this one blank?"
I open my mouth to reply but the words do not come out. Mother rolls her eyes.
"I asked you a question," she tells me. I try to voice my reason, but still I can't speak. Mother is getting impatient now. I can see it in the way she taps her foot waiting for me to reply. I swallow.
"I didn't know what to write," I tell her. "I had finished all the math exercises on the other pages and was unsure what to write."
She glares at me. She does not accept my reason.
"Then you should have started over," she began. "If someone tells you to do something, then you do it, even if you have to make up things. How can you expect to be a good wife when you come of age if you do not follow what your husband tells you? Behavior like this is disgraceful not only to yourself, but your Father's company as well. I suggest you write on this last page."
She thrust the paper into my face. I extend my unsteady hands and take the paper. She turns around and leaves me alone, her high heels echo throughout the deserted hallway. I stand up with shaky legs and pick up the paper, careful not to wrinkle it. I too head down the lonely hallway my shoes making faint scratching noises. Complete abomination.
Pop! The sound of a bubble popping in my face fills my ears. I glance at my caretaker, Maria. She is young and beautiful with raven colored hair and caramel skin. Her lips curve upward into a kind smile. She blows the bubbles from the bath toward me like a fairy would her dust. She breaks out into laughter after looking at me with her maroon eyes. The bells of her voice infect me and I too soon laugh. Is this what it means to be happy? To be a child?
Our fun didn't last long though. The door to the washroom burst open and the tomato red face of Mother appeared. She glared at me and then at Maria. To my surprise, she calms down and her face returns to normal.
"Maria?" she calls out in a dangerously sweet voice.
"Yes mistress," Maria answered in an obedient tone.
"I will speak with you after you have put Dahlia to bed," Mother looks at me then back to Maria. "Continue on."
My Mother leaves the washroom. Maria looks me in the eye. She smiles sweetly and we continue with our fun for this is our last time together.
Surely, when I woke up the next morning, Maria was no longer there.
Snap! The sound of twigs cracking beneath my bare feet enters my ears. I sprint through the forest, the moon as my compass. My heart beats uncontrollably as the bark of the hunter dogs gets louder.
"FIND HER!" Mother yells. Anyone who didn't know her would not be able to hear the anxiety underneath the harsh command. I can hear it, but the worry is not meant for me. No, Mother only cares about Father's company. His image would be tarnished if the world found out his only daughter ran away.
I turn sharply to the right. A root catches my foot. My body crashes through bushes and tree branches snag my skin and clothing. I land at the bottom of the hill with a sickening thud.
I try to stand, but a sudden jolt of pain shoots up my leg. I somehow endure the pain and manage to balance myself on my own two feet ignoring the blood snaking down my leg. I stumble forward and through another line of wild bushes and trees neither of which have been trimmed since they were planted.
The crisp, fresh smell of water assaults my nose as I arrive at a lake. This fragrance is so much more superior to the artificial natural odors and smell of expensive perfume I get back at the mansion. This is so much better. So free.
The moon's reflection shimmers on the surface of the lake. This place is…perfect.
Whirl. The sound of the soft night breeze fills my ears as the wind caresses my skin. I open my eyes and see the reflection of the moon shifts. The simulated moon shines in my direction as if beckoning me forward.
"Come here," she calls. I take the first step into the water and I feel the waves pull me towards her.
"Come closer," she continues.
Who am I to disobey?
I do as she tells me, ignoring the obnoxious howls of the hounds as they get closer. They appear by the lake. The moon glares down at them. They call for me to return. I pay no attention to them. Just the moon. Me and the moon.
"Closer child. You're almost there." She encourages. Her words provide the comforting boost I have always craved.
I pretend not to hear Mother's pleads to return to shore. Underneath that feigned concern is hope. Hope that I will not return.
Don't worry Mother. I won't.