I slipped softly into the numbness,
Down,
Down,
Down,
Through a deep cloud of blue.
The blood flowed, even though they tried to stop it. I knew I had cut too deep, but that was what made this so wonderful: it was intentional.
Maybe you want an explanation as to why a beautiful young woman, who had it all, would take her life. Yes, on the outside I did have it all: both living parents, money, jewels, a huge mansion, and the prospect of marriage on the horizon. But to realize the pain, the suffering I endured, would take a lifetime. What? You have time? Then let me begin.
I was born in a quiet townhouse on the outskirts of London. My parents, Merriam and Richard Wainscott, were wealthy merchants. They brought me back to their mansion, where my own private hell began.
When I was seven years old, it started. The horrors in the night. I would scream and cry for no reason, and wouldn't be able to breathe properly. My father became sick of it, threatened to have me committed to an asylum. It wasn't as though I could help it, though. My father began to beat me when I would scream, bruises, blue and red and purple, blossomed on my pale, milky skin. My mother tried to stop them, but he beat her, too, and she was silenced. When my father would beat me, she would stand in the doorway, tears slipping silently down her face. When he left she would tend to me. It became routine to wear high-collared dresses and astonishing amounts of powder.
One night it became too much for me to bear, and I ran into the streets. I wandered into the forest, footsteps plainly visible in the new-fallen snow. When I reached a fallen tree, I stopped, gasping for air. I sat down, just wanting a bit of rest before I returned to hell. As I sat there, a small blue butterfly flitted through the air, coming to land on a small, frozen flower. I frowned. Poor thing, shouldn't it have found some warmer weather by now? It was so delicate, it would surely freeze to death. I plucked the flower, and the butterfly waved its wings twice.
"There's no nectar there, little one. Perhaps my garden would be preferable." I carefully began the long journey home. When I reached the silent midnight streets, my heart rate increased. How would I deal with father when I arrived? He would be furious with me for leaving. I glanced around for a place to hide, when something small caught my eye. There were several butterflies, just like the one I found, fluttering near a filthy window. I tilted my head. Now why would they be there? I looked at the building. It wasn't a florist or even a fruit merchant, it was a fish market. I scaled the side of the building, my dress taking quite a beating on the way up. I peered into the grimy window, where a small glass case lay, a butterfly inside. Even more curious, I looked further into the room, where a thin boy sat, sketching away on a notepad. He had messy black hair and wide, fearful eyes. They became infinitely more fearful when he looked up and saw me. He obviously had trouble stifling a scream, and tumbled backwards out of his chair. I smiled sheepishly and pushed open the window.
"Hello. My name is Elizabeth." He sat up, clutching his chest as if his heart had stopped.
"H-hello...Elizabeth. Wh-why are you in my window?" I laughed nervously and climbed into what I can only assume was his room. It was small, and contained many beautiful butterflies.
"I was curious as to why there were so many butterflies outside your window. They're lovely." He smiled. He was rather cute, if a completely awkward klutz.
"Um, yes well, you see, I can explain..." I giggled.
"There's nothing wrong with it! Butterflies are beautiful!" He looked at his feet.
"Please don't tell my mother." I held out my hand.
"As long as you don't tell my father I was here." He took my hand.
"Deal."
After that, I began to see him regularly, and got to know him a lot better. I felt bad for him. His parents were William and Nell Van Dort, poor fish merchants who were near bankruptcy. His parents were very overprotective, and more restrictive than any of my corsets. Even at the tender age of 12, his parents were already trying to find him a suitable wife. I felt absolutely terrible for him. His mother never approved of anything, and his father was pretty much scared into submission by her. The only escapes he had were butterflies, and his dog, Scraps. He would often bring the dog with us, and we would play with him.
I ran into the small meadow, trying to find a hiding place from Victor. I climbed an old, rickety tree, and waited for him. A few minutes later, he came bounding into the clearing, calling my name. I giggled quietly. He would never find me up here! I shifted slightly, and a lump of half-melted snow fell from the branch, and landed on his head. He looked up, wiping slush from his face. I laughed.
"Awww you found me!" My joy was short-lived, though. Just as I tried to climb down, I heard a sharp crack. The branch sagged and swayed, and all the blood left my face. I tried to quickly shuffle backwards, but my panic only made it worse. There was another sharp crack, and I was falling. I screamed in horror.
"Elizabeth!" As the ground came closer and the wind whistled past my ears, I bid a silent goodbye to my family and Victor.
But the ground never came. I was left about three feet off the ground, caught by my heavy skirts. I sobbed silently. Victor ran over.
"How are we going to get you down?" I looked at him, hopeless, before my worst nightmare came true.
"Well, well, the runaway finally hangs." I peeked over. The local snot, Barkis Bittern, was staring straight at me, big ugly nose in the air.
"Please, Barkis, go away, I beg you." He walked over and kicked the tree. I swung violently but did not fall. Victor grabbed my hand and glared at him.
"Don't you have a girlfriend, Bittern?" Barkis turned red and glared at him.
"Yes, I do, but at least mine is a proper lady, one of culture. My Emily does not act like some foolish monkey. And I don't know why you waste your time with her. Last I heard, your parents were working things over with the Everglotts." Victor's face turned even paler than usual, and his hands became cold and clammy.
"Th-that's not true! My parents wouldn't!" Barkis walked off, laughing heartily. I frowned.
"The Everglotts? Like those crazy rich people that never leave their house?" Victor nodded.
"I don't want to marry their daughter. She's too proper." I frowned and thought.
"They can't make you get married. You're only twelve. It's not right." He sighed, it was the sigh of someone who had given up all hope.
"No. Not at the moment...but they can arrange it." I hugged him tightly. He stiffened slightly at first, then hugged back.
"I won't let them hurt my best friend. My only friend."