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WARNING: This chapter contains a rape scene! If you do not feel comfortable please either skip the scene or redirect back to your previous page.

The Unforgivable Truth

She lay in bed; cocooned by fluid silken sheets, eyelashes brushing the ivory of her cheeks with the tenderness of a butterfly's wing. Plumb lips stretched open in a yawn as her spidery fingers massaged the tangled knots out of her long tresses.

The cool morning breeze fluttered the curtains, seeping in the soft rays of sunlight. The cold contrasted against her heated skin, decorating its heavenly glowing surface with goosebumps. With gentle tugs, she pulled away the constricting blankets, connecting with her beryl depths in the reflective glass of her mirror.

Scrutinizing her appearance, she observed her features before turning away, a slight hint of contempt noticeable in her posture. Throwing sender legs over the edge of her bed, she lowered her stocking clad feet, coercing them to make contact with the chill of the wooden floor. With her feet pressed into the floorboards, she lifted herself from the bed, wobbling for the slightest of moments before she regained her bearings. Assured of her stability, she glided toward her wardrobe, preparing for the events of the day.

Set in the farthest corner of the room, a vanity stood alone. Piles of leather bound books buried its surface, towering unevenly as they jutted out in every direction that even the slightest threat of a breeze would cause them to fall.

Resting on the peak of the furthest pile, an ebony leather bound book caught her attention. At first glance, it appeared to be just another one of her many books but on further inspection someone would notice there was something quite different about it. For example, there was no author or title printed on its spine, it was at least half width of the novels that surrounded it and with its caked, dry outward layer it appeared to look as though it had been deserted in the brutal summer heat.

In the middle of collecting her outfit for the day, a strange thought intercepted her thinking, freezing the muscles in her hand. At first, she was going to ignore the intruding thought and continue finishing her task yet her feet had their own agendas and insisted on dragging her away from the wardrobe and to the vanity, halting in front of the book that had captured her attention.

Without a second thought, she unfolded her arm in attempt to grasp the mystifying novelty when she was overcome by beautiful handwritten words as they slipped through the barriers of her memory, dancing in her vision. She could not seem to remember what they had said nor where they originated however she had this odd promotion they could be found in the unusual book. With that thought, she continued her pursuit, seizing the spine of the book in her pale fingers, carefully pulling it to her beating breast.

With a quiet breath, she uncurled the book from her chest, wrapping her fingertips around the worn cover's edge, gently enticing it open.

There is a secret that I own; a secret that I have not breathed to a soul for it is so terrible that if it were to be exposed, it would be my demise. Without a single doubt, I know that if it were to be found and informed to my family with just the bat of an eyelash they would strip me of my status, take my inheritance and throw me on the streets for the remainder of my life without a single glance over their shoulders.

I have only successful kept this venomous lie due to the many years of my father's training, however, I am on the last reserves of will and so I have chosen you, diary, to tell my deadly secret, to bear the burden I cannot bear.

I suppose I should start at the beginning for that is what I know that many of my favorite authors would do. Imagine it is the year 1856 on an island near the country of Great Britain. For many decades, my island has pledge loyalty to Britain with the promises to aid them in the emergency of war, to send them food for if they stricken with famine and to import desired goods to them. We have, of course, honored this written truce and there is not a time in my childhood when a British ship was not in our harbors with a constant number of men going in and out, bringing large boxes of cargo with them as they waddled down the wooden ramp.

As the years went by and the older I became, the ships arrived less and less with longer intervals of time between and this became our first sign of the terrible fate had occurred in our mother country. With the rest of the world, we watched as the Great Britain spiraled rapidly into decline and by the year of 1856 their last weak attempts to patch their broken economy and instable government had worn out and resulted in the earth shattering failure of their country.

As in our treaty, we immediately responded by sending them half of our army while leaving ourselves weak and vulnerable in the process. My father is a black smith and since the collapse of the British Empire he has been working laboriously. We all have noticed the extended time he spends in the shop, the way his feet shuffle as he drags himself into the house after a days of work, exhausted with tension in his shoulders and violet circles staining the underbellies of his eyes and most importantly how faintly his pocket jingles warning us of the shortage of money.

Annually, our island holds a festival for all those becoming of age, without the restriction of gender, and in 1856 I was to be one of those participants. However, due to the outbreak of war and the empire failing, our businesses and workers received a devastating blow causing the rise in price of products and the cut in wages of workers and a lower budget allowance of our government causing it to be practically impossible to hold the festival.

Maybe it is rather feminine of me but I had imagined that day since I was just a little girl playing with the dolls that had been gifted upon me by my relatives. So to claim I was rather disappointed would an understatement. I was livid. I felt that it was solely unfair that my dreams had to be taken away only for the reason that one could assume an assembly of older wiser men had failed to see their own ambitions would lead to the devastation of their beloved country.

I will admit to you, my diary, that I have a very adventurous, and if I dare say, rebellious spark in my character. It was created from the moment my father had trained me as if I was one of his few students who had come to him to learn the traditional ways of a soldier. He taught me how to fight, how to control my emotions, how to read and write and even math and science though he had forbade me from telling that little fact to anyone. The feeling further thrived by my constant readings of fairy tales and adventure novels that I had found in my father's library, which I read without my mother's knowledge in my spare time.

The reason I have informed you of this my dear sweet diary is because I want you to have a basis for which I blame my tragedy in the next events I will describe to you.

Filled with anger and bitterness, instead of keeping it inside and letting the feelings fade with due time like my mother would suggest if I had told her, I had decided in my mind to do something so incredible that it could compensate for the long waited and missed celebration I had dreamed of since I was a child.

Now my diary, you may find I will stray from the topic but I beg you to follow me for it will all make sense in due time. There is a legend in our island that has now become nothing more than a child's story. A band of pirates washed upon our shores with the idea that their every desire could be found on our island. They had heard many rumors about a prosperous land full of riches, beautiful women and even the long lost fountain of youth, all supposedly located on an island near the country of Great Britain.

After many months of travel, they had finally landed on our southern shore where they quickly found what they had heard was not to be the truth. After struggling to sail to our island with food shortages and many attacks from the British army, their tempers had taken over any judgment they had possessed and they raided our island. When our army was informed of the attack, they quickly retaliated and brought down the mongrels with their superiority and experience. By our government, the foolish pirates were sentenced to be hanged to which none of the citizens of our island had objected.

For many years after the deaths of pirates, the soldiers and civilians had attempted to push the pirate's boat into the sea and off our shore; however it seemed to embed itself farther and farther upward onto the land with every attempt that even the high tide couldn't pull it away with its amazing power. Accepting defeat, the people abandoned the boat and our government passed an act restricting our citizens from entering the shore. This met with no complaints also for everyone was ready to purge the terrible experience from their memories.

Then a few years later, a few curious children who were out playing had stumbled upon the shore and discovered the ship. That night they had found their way home, unable to stay silent about their discovery and at dinner told their families. Faced with a new dilemma, the fathers told the children about several disgruntled pirate ghosts that haunted the shore and they were extremely fortunate that they didn't see them for the ghosts killed any misfortunate souls that walked on their unholy ground. These children then told their friends, whom then told their friends, in which it rapidly spread, retold to generation after generation thus creating the legend.

All maps that showed the path to the southern shore were also banned and were required to be redrawn; leaving only a small portion of the older generations with the knowledge of its location. As time slowly chimed by, they had all began to pass and in no time at all no one was left who had knew of the southern shore.

Now here is the part where I take my time to tie all the pieces together I have presented to you and make sense of this wild tale. As I was laying bed after receiving the horrifying news, I remembered the tale my father had told us long ago, the legend of the pirates. It was in that moment of devastation and depression; I had felt the rise of enthralling adventure and decided that rediscovering the lost ship would be a worthy equivalent for the festival.

For the next couple of weeks, I had charted down my parents' and my brother's sleeping patterns. I wrote down when they fell asleep, if any of them woke up during the night, if they did then when and how long did it take them to find their way back to the chambers and so on. With the math skills my father had taught me and the information I had gathered, I calculated the opportune time for me to depart was between the hours of twelve and one.

The only problem I had not solved was that even though I knew about its existence, I did not know the location of the shore. I had asked my father but like many of the newer generations he also was clueless. And then, by a miracle, I had found my answer.

My mother had insisted that day that I come with her to do a fitting at the seamstress's for more dresses. She claimed that with the day approaching so close that I would not have time to purchase any new garments and that it was much wiser to get it done sooner rather than later.

The journey to the seamstress's had lead past a navigation store where in my childhood I would observe many sailors entering or gazing at the latest maps and equipment that were displayed in the store's window. It was one of the more thriving shops, for the manager defied all logic and lowered his prices causing sailors to flood in whom desired take full advantage of this man's generosity.

As we passed by the window of the store, an aged map captured my attention. While my mother conversed with the one of the local women, I took the opportunity to study the map. I knew the chances were very low, if not nonexistent, of the location of the southern shore being labeled on it however I wanted to exploit every opportunity I was granted.

Most of the places I already had previous knowledge of until I sighted an area that was fairly unfamiliar to me even though it was in close quarters with my residence. I roamed my eyes once more over the map and before I had realized it, I was dragged away by mother, who was guiding me angrily through the streets as she complained about my manners and practically recited every rule that could be found in the book of etiquette.

After spending a gruesomely long day being measured, squeezed and choosing between fabrics that all appeared similar to me, we had finally left with my mother bustling with joy. My only saving grace during those tenuous and torturous hours was the aged map taped onto the window case of the store and how it was the last piece of the puzzle I need to execute my plan.

Yet I had another dilemma. I could not have just easily asked my mother to permit me to go to the navigation store and purchase a map that would allow me to sneak out of the house while she asleep. As we moved further and further away from the bustling shop area it was there I had found my scrape goat.

It was in the form of a slender, middle aged woman as she gracefully strutted down the center of the street with the pride of a peacock. She was robed in a bright blue dress, easily visible, her pearls and diamonds glittering in the golden sunlight. It was Lady Warsaw, a woman who knew my mother by an intimate basis and could easily provide a distraction to turn my mother's attention away.

With the subtlest of pushes, I guided my mother into the path of Lady Warsaw where collision would only be inevitable. Just as I had predicted, their shoulders brushed. By reflex, they both halted in place and for a moment I believed Lady Warsaw were going to tilt her head and glare at us with vile hatred. Instead, the smooth lines of her mouth curled upward in a smile and she apologized to us brightly. In turn, we smiled politely and also apologized, giving her the gentlest of curtseys. Before I was forced to participate in their lively discussion I promptly informed my mother I had misplaced my brooch at the seamstress's and I was going to go and retrieve it.

I didn't wait for her approval, though from the corner of my eye I watched as she waved her hand upward in the air, a sign that she had permitted me to go. Once I was out of my mother's hawk like stare, I broke into a run toward the navigation store. With one last glance in the window to confirm if my thoughts were correct, I entered the shop, bought the map with the money I had stored in my stockings and left with the map hidden in my stocking along with my remaining change as I journeyed back to my mother's side.

The rest of my days slowly passed by as I continued to spend my small amount of leisure time memorizing the painted topography of the map, almost ritualistically marking down the days on a blank page until the day I could act out my plan.

Then it finally arrived, the eve of my sixteen day of birth. The maids, whom were brewing with infectious excitement, had created an extravagant feast that could only have been brought to shame by the dinner of the king himself. Partially because of my own bubbling joy influenced greatly by the beautiful feast laid out before me and partially because I wanted to prevent any late night awakenings, I suggested to my father that we share a few bottles of our finer wine that we currently storing in the cellar.

It was to no one's surprise as he readily agreed to the idea and faster than a race horse was rushing down the cellar stairs, returning after what felt like a moment later with two bottles of mulled wine. The dinner was an extreme pleasantry filled with jovial lively discussions from ranging topics of politics to fashion as my brother supplied comical reliefs when arguments started to turn for the worst. The only possible way to create an even better night was to succeed in committing the greatest adventure of the century, an adventure that was going to occur in only few more movements of the hour's hand.

Once the food had been consumed and both bottles of wine had drained of every drop, I, along with the rest of the members of my family, dismissed ourselves from the table, descending up our elegant staircase and parted ways once we reached the respected doorways of our chambers. Inside the quiet of my room, I removed my evening wear and slipped into the clothes I had stolen from my brother's wardrobe when he had been out competing in a jousting tournament.

Supplied with the necessary materials, I remained in my room until I was confident in my belief that they were all deep in slumber, blissfully unaware of any of the events that would occur later on in the evening. The clock struck midnight before I had even attempted to escape, the moon already been seated in her throne in the velvet sky, her luminous light illuminating the streets below. For the next twenty minutes, I struggled to silence my footsteps as I travelled down the hallway and the stairs before resting in the vestibule. With quick eased movements, I grabbed my brother's tail coat and his favorite top hat, being careful to tuck every strand of my hair inside, before I proceeded to walk out the door.

The venture to the ship was one I found delightfully charming as I travelled down the barren roads hooded by a silvery silence. It was seemingly different then during the bright hours of the morning as the streets bustled with life and buoyancy, a mixture of smiles and laughter and flamboyant exchanges, the purest form of lives interacting with each other. As the moon shown through the branches of the trees lining the sides of the roads, highlighting the uneven cobbles in the street as tiny pebbles moaned pitifully in soles of my brother's boots I contemplated on meaningless thoughts, bring light to wandering ideas that were almost always pushed into the darkest edges of my mind.

Focused only on my thoughts, I had not noticed I arrived at my desired destination until I was facing the hill of the steep slope, following its winding road with my eyes, turning with its curving dirt trail lying leftward at its peak. Awaking myself from my distracted conscious, I retrieved the map hidden in my coat pocket, unrolling tenderly. With careful caution, I roamed my eyes over the face of the map, searching for the path that haunted my dreams. My days of studying had finally showed their merit for I quickly found it and began right away to match painting to reality. Reassuring my confidence of my practiced skill, I rolled my map up once more, placing it in my coat pocket, choosing to only rely on my blind hope to navigate me through the trials that lay ahead.

I lead myself through miles of thick trees, their branches so close they overlapped and intertwined around each other, leaves patched together so tightly they reflected off the moonlight leaving the ground blanketed in slithering dark shadows. I could detect the faint snoring of resting creatures, the gentle rustling of leaves as they sang quietly in breeze, the glowing warmth of the trees as I brushed the tips of my fingers against their rough barks. Integrated in its air there seemed to be this magic, a pulsing tingling warmth that spread infectiously from tree to tree, branch to branch, leaf to leaf, animal to animal leaving a palpable sweetness in the caverns of my lungs.

The last few miles I noted the growing distance between the trees, the thinning of the leaves as they allowed gentle rays of the moonlight to seep through, all warnings of an unearthly beauty that I would stumble upon in a few moments. When I had come to the edge of forest, in that brief second, I had believed I laid eyes on heaven itself. White flowers danced in the peaceful wind, shimmering in the color of moonlight as the moon lay high above them, her gentle face smiling as they all waved at her, desiring to capture her attention. As I waddled through the thick grass, I could remember how light I felt as if by magic my bones had been hollowed and I almost believed that if I jumped I would soar through the sky, free from the bounds of my earthly problems.

And then I met reality as for at the edge of the meadow was a sea of yellow sand with the ocean slumbering at its edges.

On the sand abyss, there lounged a grey flecked rock which hid the ship behind its massive silhouette. I will forever remember as the waves overlapped the sides of the vessel, its weak shivers and moans as it stubbornly refused to be dragged away. The mast pole had splintered in half, most likely due to the efforts of a raging storm, causing it fall in a backwards arch, leaving it to be supported weakly by the rotting rail. The flag still remained hooked through the course ropes on the mast, the symbol worn to a mere shadow of its former glory as it feebly flapped in the shifting ocean air. On the bow was carved the name "Prosperity" which stood beside the wooden figure of a large snake wrapped around a pole jutting out from the ship.

Even now I can still find the deep scars I had received from climbing the side of the rotting ship in order to enter through one of the lower port holes, the taste of metal still faintly in my mouth as I remembered holding the handle of the oil lamp between my teeth. Once I was tucked safely inside, I took the oil lamp from my mouth and light it with the match I had placed in of the coat pockets.

If I were any other person, I would have labeled the ship off as a boring amusement and scurried off to home. Yet with every turn and every sight of worn out name carved into a wall, a chair roughly placed sideways, several empty mugs lined jaggedly on a table, I could detect the unknown undocumented series of lives and it made my heart leap with wonder and questions.

Time had slipped sly past me and it wasn't until the dimming of my oil lamp did I fully realize the number of hours that had passed. I knew I needed to leave if I wanted any hope of arriving home without any one's notice of my absence. In a panicked rush, I began to run down the path I believed would guide me to the port hole I conveniently used as an entrance, however after several wrong turns, I had found myself thoroughly lost. I was so desperate that I was even considering just stabbing through the walls and creating an improvised exit when a faint glittering sparkled in my vision.

I briefly debated whether to search for the source or not before my interest had grown so overpowering my feet practically dragged me to the questioning glimmer. In the receding light of my oil lamp, I traced the weathered golden painted design on a rotted door, marveling in its expertise and craftsmanship and knew in an instance moment this was the faint glittering I saw. With my curiosity piqued, I firmly grasped hold of the rusted doorknob and twisted it with all my strength and was not surprised in the least when I had failed. The door was thoroughly rusted and it wasn't until I placed all the weight and force of my body on its hinged surface that I was able to open it.

In the shadows I could feel it. It didn't have a form or any color pigmentation and it was presumably a safe thing to say that it was also odorless. The only possible explanation I can give you diary to understand how to perceive this "thing" was it was a heavy dark cloud that swept noiselessly around the room, chilling the moist air as it spread its tendrils from wall to floor to ceiling.

The hoarse voice of wisdom warned me against entering the room, advising me that it was best if I simply turned my back on it and continued my search on finding an exit. The raucous voice of youth had tried to convince me my pride was at stake and that it would be cowardly of me to just simply turn away without even a little peak. I had foolishly listened to boisterous voice of youth and ignored the aged voice of wisdom and entered the room.

A gloomy heaviness sank in the air, falling onto my slender shoulders as I entered the doorway. It had a faint pressure, nothing to heavy that would have weighed me down but it did cause my steps to have a slight drag to them as I traveled across the disintegrating floor. I paused once I had found a distance that satisfied me, not too out of reach for some valuable studying yet comfortably close to the door so in the emergency of danger I had a clear exit to escape, as I went about the process of familiarizing myself with my surroundings.

From their somber silhouettes, I concluded the room was occupied by two pieces of furniture; one appeared to a bureau and the other a bed. The bureau stretched across the western wall far better in appearance then I had expected for I was still capable of tracing the edges of the drawers and the gold handles gleamed vividly in the pooling light of my oil lamp. Attached to the rear panel was a considerably sized mirror coated with enough dust to even mute the ivory luster of my skin.

The bed was the one to fulfill my expectations as far as the subject of appearance. The wood support, including the decorated head board resting against the northern wall, was completely soaked from the inside to outward surface with one claw foot sinking into the grain of the deteriorating floor. The mattress was deflated of all air and dejectedly subsided under the set of equally miserable sheets that at one point in history were seemingly silkily white but under the cruelty of the elements had turned into a rotten yellow.

I roamed my eyes over the room once more in one long sweep to confirm if I had found all interests of value when I had noticed a glimmer emitting from the eastward wall. Tentatively, I advanced toward the quaint spark and found it was another door, painted with the identical mystical gold pattern of its sister.

My hand had already fallen in the tyranny of motion when the doorknob began to twist itself around with no coercion on my part. Deep in the layers of skin, muscle and bone, my heart pounded thunderously as it were a panicked humming bird flapping its wings with animalistic fear as it tried to free itself from the clutching claws of its predator. My gazed fixed unwaveringly on the ghostly doorknob; I stumbled clumsily backwards, ordering my feet to continue moving, a trembling whimper escaping my lips. I had managed create some distance between myself and the door but ultimately failed when my back collided into a wall, the room adopting a sudden cage like appearance.

As one would predict, fueled by a compelling pressure, the door was set in motion, torturously forced opened as it battled with rusted hinges and weathered wood. Lanterns were brightly lit in the chamber for their rays of gold pooled under the crack of the door, absorbing the dimming fog of darkness before splashing onto the toes of my brother's boots. With the door fully ajar, the light that origins began as a thin spidery tendril grew overwhelmingly, blinding my irises with such a large dose of intensity I had to direct my gaze away.

Once my vision had become acclimated, I turned my focus once more on the doorway. In the warm halo of light, I distinguished the shadowy silhouette of a man, his footsteps echoing against the floorboards as he sauntered in my direction. In a few strides, he was hovering near the edge of the door where he then reached out his hand and with the flicker of his fingertips, swung the door back into its frame, bathing the room once more in darkness.

"State your name and title!" That is what I remember commanding to him through darkness with no particular attention to the direction I shouted in. It was possible I could have created the disguise of confidence yet that was destroyed by the uncontrollable quiver that raised the octaves of my voice.

I received no reply, which lead me to search frantically for him only to be surprised when I turned to the sight of emerald depths reflected vibrantly in shivering light of my lantern. It was as if his eyes were a catalyst, the starting activation energy in which to change the cold shivers running the length my back into something much more horrible in nature. It began in the depths of my belly, an orb of ice which melted into liquid silk, swimming through the rivers of my heated veins. The frosty chill of the water bit at my muscles, constricting them into a numbed state. It travelled through the entire length of my body, my necessary organs stalling in their performing action. I was incapable of thinking; all my thoughts were halted, uncompleted and erased. Somehow this man had paralyzed me with a single glance, the true understanding of fear I would learn later.

Almost in a tenderly manner, he took the lamp from my slacking grip, arching his back to place it on the floor and then stood in perfect posture once the task was accomplished. The moon, who's light waned not only moments ago, suddenly gained a new strength, caressing the velvet sky with its dazzling rays as a few of them peered through the porthole carved into the northern wall, bathing the intruder with a veil of silver.

The man was stunningly attractive. His dark locks were sculpted in a long ponytail caringly fanning his shoulder. Seducing irises the hue of refined emeralds were framed by sooty thick lashes that would make any woman glow green with envy. His features were all in exact proportion, magnificently attractive against the strong line of his jaw only perfected by a set of very irresistibly kissable lips.

I lowered my gaze with the curve of his thick neck, secretly appreciating how his shirt clung to his lean muscles, curving at the just ideal angle. A black leather vest embedded with a striking gold dragon laid over his shirt paired with black wool trousers and leather boots. I could not deny that I found him strikingly attractive as he caused my heart to swoon so delicately yet nevertheless under that layer of flawless features I was not blind to the splendid power he wield in those finely tone muscles.

I let the silence settle around us before breaking it, all the while concocting a plan in the recess of my mind. "It is terribly rude you know to not answer a question when asked."

His lips pulled into a grin as amusement brought a vivid clarity to his emerald depths. "I could retort on the other hand that it was awfully impolite of you to demand information from someone without a proper greeting."

It was only natural that my mouth also curled into a mischievous grin for I had found that he had sly wormed his way out of responding to my question by smoothly altering the topic to scrutinize my appalling behavior. "Well I might just reply that it is generally bad etiquette to sneak upon a lady without a warning."

A rumbling chuckle escaped his delectable lips. "I fear that you have to forgive for that my crime, my lady. If it is any solace to you, I did not intend to frighten you but merely to greet you."

I dismissed the charge with the single wave of my hand, reassuring him I was not concealing my sincere feelings by the method of a beaming smile. Of course, I was still pursuing a plan in the inner workings of my head and even accepting the fact our brief conversation had already eased my anxiety, I hadn't quite reached the stage where I was willing to release my suspicions.

A silence one more coiled between us, darkening the airy mood that was vibrating so charmingly earlier. Filled with awkward emotions, I directed our discussion to a new topic. "May I inquire what are you doing here on such a fine night? A man as handsome as you should be settled in bed with your wife at this hour."

My heart drummed to a faster beat as I watched through the fringe of my eyelashes as the corner of his lips rose into seductive grin, a brief look of appreciation highlighting the soft accents of his irises. "And I could just as easily ask the same question, my lady."

As he spoke the statement, he took a small step closer, leaving only the distance of hair between us as I fell prey to the pulsating warmth emitting from his body. I observed as his eyes, focused on my irises, studied the plane of my face with vital interest before flickering lower, drinking in the curves of my figure before once more meeting my gaze in a heated passion. His orbs throughout our encounter had been vividly alluring and held the clear clarity of a diamond, began to change, darkened by dancing shadows as dull glints filled with lust.

Once glance had created a trembling wave of uneasiness in my body, my instinct warning me of a hungry danger lurking inside his irises. Throwing the weak semblance of the plot I had created away, I took a stumbling step backwards, my eyes firmly caught in the allure of his depths even in their hideous state.

He did not want me to go for with the speed of a snake he snatched my wrist, pulling me roughly toward him so I was flush against his body. A rouge blush dusted my cheeks and I swiftly turned my head away so he would not produce any ridiculous notions.

Tenderly, his fingertips trickled down the straight edge of my spine before he wrapped his arm around my waist; the other hand preoccupied with grasping knees. Once he had a firm grip, he lifted me into the air and commenced to guiding me to the bed. Of course, I had struggled with him in the beginning, flaying my legs in inefficient kicks and protesting loudly about the abundant flaws in his character. Cleverly, he silenced me with sliding the palms from their secured positions which resulted in my body's natural defensive of shutting my mouth and wrapping my arms around his neck to prevent my otherwise brutal falling.

The walk was short and it was too soon he was laying me gently on the right side of the bed as he sat himself on the edge, his piercing gaze practically pleading me to challenge him. We remained that way for a lengthy amount of time, glaring hatefully at each other, before he spoke again.

"To answer your question, I was looking for a woman."

I casted my eyes around the room and briefly glanced at the hallway through the opened door before I resettled my gaze onto his composed form. "You were looking for a whore in here! Have you lost all common sense or is it your brain has been rotted out by an incurable disease?"

He chuckled, his shoulders quivering lightly as his voice rumbled throughout the room. "No, I am just as soundly sane and healthy as you are, my dear, and it is not pleasure I seek from this woman but rather my deep desire to meet her. For you see, I have heard rumors of her tresses of scarlet silk and beauty that would make even Aphrodite herself delirious with jealously. They were so fantastically wonderful you see even you would feel the intense urge to pick up your bags and seek her out."

Benevolently, his hand was stroking the rim of my brother's top hat, lifting it from the crown of my head as my scarlet locks cascaded across the rippled surface of the diminishing mattress. With that same hand, he interlocked his fingers through my hair, wrapping the strands around his long fingers as a snake might wrap around its prey.

He lowered his mouth to my ear; his scorching breath tickling the exposed shell. "I am not begging you to understand or even to forgive but I want you to know this, what I am going to do is something that must be done and failure is simply not a privilege I have."

That was the end of our communication and the beginning of my nightmares. His hands, that held a gentlemanly kindness, adopted a sense of greed, gripping the collar of the shirt with rash haste as I was coerced to follow his forceful tugging or take the risk of heavy injury. With one hand gripped firmly around the base of my throat, the other began to remove the clothes from my figure, ripping them off with such animalistic pleasure. It was a grotesque sight watching as his mouth twisted in grin of sheer happiness, as he drooled over the sight of my exposed flesh. I did not know whether I should have pitied him, for the reason that something had driven him to such pathetic state or should have feared him for the actions he might commit under this ghastly desperation.

I wanted nothing more than to claw at his face, to do anything other than watch him with fearful eyes as I was forced to remain a helpless maiden. Yet I was not given that privilege for I knew even the smallest of movements would entice his grip to tighten, resulting in my prolonged suffering.

Once I was stripped of all garments and free to satisfy his every physical desire, he released his grip on my throat, coiling the limb to his side as he set himself to the task of undressing, nimble fingers unfastening the buttons of his vest.

And that is where he made his deadly mistake. I waited only for a second, for that is how long it took me wrap my hand in the shirt beside me, before I gracefully jumped over the opposite edge of the bed, landing with the prowess of a cat as I scampered to the door. I thought of only home. I dreamed of my brother, his comical comments, warm eyes and womanizing ways. Of my father, whose cheerful rumbling laughter could vibrate the entire foundation of our house and leave us breathless in contagious joy. Of my mother, her stern frown and kind eyes and her exasperated sigh as she dealt with her unusual family. My memories were oil in the lamp, the catalyst I needed to continue my running, to escape this dreadful hell and not give in to the temptation of wanting to collapse on the floor and cry my sorrows away, hoping if I placed my hands over my ears and shut my eyes it could get rid of the appalling reality of the present.

To my abhor, he was swifter than me and had crossed the length of the entire room as I reached edge of the entrance to the chamber, pulling me away by snaking his arms around my waist, pressing his legs between the folds of my thighs.

"Do you think I find pleasure in this? That I so wish to love you under such ill feelings!" He shouted to me despite our close proximity. "If I was not a desperate man I would have hid in that bathroom, until you curiosity had been satisfied and only then would have I left that room. Perhaps I would have not come at all and we would continue on with our lives never realizing how frightfully close we came to this ugly state of affairs." He shuddered with anger, his unclothed chest trembling against the smooth curve of my back. It was one of my more questioning thoughts I would admit, however I could not help but hear the sincerity in his hissing which began to sound more like a plea. "Yet I am a desperate man, willing to exploit every possible opening I am given and I am afraid my dear that you were one of them. Loathe me for the rest of your days if you must, curse my name with the foulest of words but do not prevent from me completing this task."

"So that is what I am to do?" Fury entered my blood, boiling at my soul with a mixture of intensified emotions, flushing my cheeks the hue of rouge. "I am to listen obediently and permit you to ravage my body and violate my skin with that disgusting tongue of yours! I am to turn a blind eye as you bury yourself inside me, to stifle my whimpering cries when I am in anguished pain! I am to silence my tongue only for the simple reason that you have an objective that is necessary for you to meet!" I was drowning in my livid anger, unable to control the words that came out of my mouth. "How dare you suggest that of me? How can you have even the audacity to touch me and whisper those arrogant words in my ear. I hope God sees you for what you are, a filth scoundrel and throws you into the deepest pit of hell for the sin you have committed!"

My breaths were misted pants as I was flooded by emotions, crystal tears spilling from the corners of my eyes as I silently clawed at his hands. He strengthened his grip on my waist; our hearts beating in identical rhythms as he traced the golden curve of my neck.

"I am aware of the fact that the pain I will inflict on you is a deadly sin, a sin only suitably punished by a gruesome death and the promise of being thrown into hell to rot for the rest of eternity. It is a sin though I am afraid; on both are parts, which I must take."

His fingertips lightly traced the smooth curve of my stomach, lingering warmth over my breasts as he kissed the small of my back, his velvet lips whispering sweet nothings to the inert muscles lying deep below my skin. They were distractions, mere ponderings in which to lose myself in their ecstasy for he wanted me to disregard our destination and prepare myself for the terrible crime he was soon going to commit.

Through every thrust, through every grunt and agonizing wave of pain that rose and conquered my senses and body, I refused to gaze into his eyes. It was a sign of rejection, one of obvious notations in my circumstances. If he was in least infuriated by it, he did not express it, preferring instead to pay great attention to the curve of my neck as he generously explored it through a plentitude of kisses, nibbles and bites. As the night wore on and my emotions of disgust and hatred had faded in presence of pain, on a whim I gave him a momentary glance.

Curious by the new development, he focused his emerald depths to bore into mine, wordlessly conveying his inner thoughts. Exhausted from his senseless pounding, he tightened his fingers in the soiled sheets; contracting the muscles in his arm to support his weight. The fast pace he had implemented throughout the entirety of the night was beginning to slow, sluggish beats mixing into his smooth rhythm. He ceased movement minutes later, his stomach quivering against the lower portion of my belly, hot panting breaths scorching my cheeks.

Our eyes were only interlocked for a passing of time before he casted his gaze downward, trailing my features until pausing at my lips, gazing at them with vigorous fascination. With a hint of vindictiveness, I tilted my chin, bringing our mouths so close that if he were simply to slant his head it would conclude in the brushing of our lips.

It appeared as those he was debating whether he should plunge in and ruin his atrocious fate to unimaginable levels, when he glanced once more at my irises. I met his orbs fleetingly before he lowered his head down, burying his nose in my tresses.

"Your cruelty knows no bounds." He turned his head, bathing my throat with butterfly kisses, contradicting the affronting manner of his statement.

With a light chuckle, I pressed my lips to the exposed shell of his ear, tickling it tenderly with my breath. "I could never be as cruel as you, ma bête-noire." He particularly did not like this response for with vigor, he thrust into me, painfully colliding with a peculiar spot that conceived a crushing wave of pain in my muscles.

Satisfied with the exercising of his power, he rolled his body onto the side, lying beside my limp figure, encasing my small waist with his muscular arm, drawing me to his chest.

"My I find that your arrogant audacity rivals the devils. He must be sitting on his throne; fuming at the thought a mere human can be considered his equal. I can almost guarantee that he is already plotting your punishment for the day you will meet him." He showed no offense to the words, chuckling as he traced the blades of my shoulders with his fingertips.

There was wordless understanding between the two of us. He knew very well that I did not want to be laying his arms, tucked under his chin as if we were lovers, basking in the ecstasy we reached together from the climaxes of our love making. He knew I desired nothing more than to plunge a stake into the accursed heart of his, twist it as the organ struggled to continue its beating only to fruitlessly fail. Nonetheless there was a requirement of energy in those actions, something that I lacked in my weary lifeless body. Doing the only thing I was capable, I closed my eyelids, wondering how such vicious hands could twirl my hair so gently.

Tears of diamonds flowed down the curve of the girl's cheek, dangling on the sharp point that was the end of her jaw line before losing its grip, landing on the pages below with an echoing plop. Quivering hands gently grasped the corner, turning the page with frantic desperation. More beautiful handwriting peered at her, with eyes spoiled by the color of greed she began to read the next entry with vigorous desire.

Diary, how long has it been since I have written in you? Has it been a month or two, I cannot seem to remember. Is there any room in your heart to forgive me for abandoning you with such a personal and terrible event all alone? I suppose you don't have heart so it is quite a foolish question to ask.

There is something I feel obligated to inform you. I can assure you that it is not a secret for certainly the whole island knows or has at least heard. I am with child. Several weeks after writing my first entry in you, my faithful diary, I had gotten this unpleasant feeling in the depths of my belly. At once, I called for my mother and not a moment later I had to revisit the sight of my dinner in a chamber pot.

My mother knew at once the cause of my mysterious illness. I had prepared myself for the lecture that with certainty would be so grandly horrifying that those in the streets would hear it, gossip about it and it would certainly become so great that even historians would write it down in their books. Rather than performing my prediction, she simply smiled and ran a finger through my hair and whispered to me, "Congratulations, my lovely daughter."

That morning during breakfast, we enlightened my father and my brother of my condition. My father's reaction is a little difficult to describe, however, the answer I deem of best accuracy is he was of shock. His mouth went lax, his eyes veiled over, his grip loosened on his fork and I could almost hear the thoughts swirling in his brilliant mind. He was in a total ray of disbelief. He had always accepted the common knowledge that once he had formed a family of his own and produced children then they too would grow, leaving when society judged fit and they would also have families of their own. If anything it looked as if predicament was that he had not fully realized the reality of it.

Finally he had decided on his words, uttering about how younger generations were getting more liberal these days though I could see the gleam in his eyes that he was excited to have another bright pupil in his grasps. My brother went to fill in with some insensitive comment but mother quickly silenced him with a glowering look. In instant, his mouth snapped shut and my father raged with laughter while my mother and I giggled into the palms of our hands.

The one I was most frightened to inform of my illness was husband-to-be. If you had the capacity to talk, you would most likely demand an explanation on why I hid my marital standing. I cannot say you will be satisfied with my response that I will offer you, although, it will be the blatant truth and I believe will please you more than a well rehearsed lie.

I did not tell you for the simple reason that I could not. It ashamed me that I, a woman who was willing to give her life to such a wonderful man, could have placed the largest burden possibly known on him before we were even wedded. A burden so great we would have to lives in constant fear for the day of its exposure and its horrifying repercussions.

My mother and I had a carriage prepared and after a short chat with the driver, we were off to my husband's-to-be family residence. Through the duration of the carriage ride, I felt a terrible twisting of my belly, the fluttering wings of anxiety tickling my insides. It was enough to vanquish my courage and the instant I was to open my mouth and beg my mother to drive us home, we had arrived at the entrance of the residence, his parents staged outside the door with warmhearted smiles. My mother stepped out first, during which time I collected my wits, fanning my flushed face as to mask my distress. When a sufficient amount of time had passed, I too departed from the carriage, presenting myself by my mother's side once my slender feet were stable against the pavement.

With a low curtsy, we greeted our future family members whom also respectively curtsied and bowed to us, welcoming us cordially. Before engaging themselves with a delightful conversation with my mother, they informed me my husband-to-be was located in the dining room, running through the formalities of new orders and they would hold no offense if I were to abandoned them to converse with their son. Presenting them with another gracious curtsy, I lead myself into the lavish house, travelling through the grand foyer, temporarily pausing in the salon before I encountered the doorway leading to the dining room.

I stumbled upon him positioned in plush chair tucked into the table, surround by a cocoon of piles of parchment, a quill in his hand and an ink well by his side. There was a pattern of continuity in his movements an obvious sign to my eyes that he had been toiling away at those papers, organizing, writing and reading them for hours upon end with the possibility he had not allowed himself a small time to relax.

I announced my arrival by a light tap of my shoe against the wooden floor. The sound echoed in rippling waves, abruptly waking my husband-to-be from his engrossed state as he stood up away from his chair, so quickly he nearly spilled the ink on the parchments he was only momentarily studying. His mouth twisted into a shy grin as he organized the papers in a discomfited manner, moving away from the table as he placed the chair in its proper place. With a heated glance, he sauntered to me with a breathless confidence.

General and commander of the Hope Isle army, John is a young twenty year old man sculpted by the hands of God himself. Graced with strength and lean muscle, he commands attention and respect, awing those with his astute military sense. His eyes are the shade of liquid chocolate and his voice as smooth as velvet, gentle and appealing that one found themselves unable to deny him if he so wished for anything, especially I.

When he reached arms distance of my figure, I extended my hand and he lightly grasped it in his calloused counterpart as he arched his spine in a customary bow. His lips teased the skin of my knuckles in feathery touches, sending shivers of pleasure through the veins of my arms. Certain our parents were engrossed in their discussion, he seized me by the waist and twirled me in circles, my dress fluttered around my legs. When he was satisfied from the giggles he has enchanted from my lips, he set me on my feet only to once more throw me off guard by locking our lips into a deep kiss.

"Do you know I have desired you so?" He whispered into my ear after breaking our kiss, chilled shivers winding down the length of my spine. It is audible in his husky tone his longing to see me and by method of his fingers, his warmth seeped through the material of my dress and burrowed into the muscles below my skin.

"Yes I do." I reply to him, my lips grazing the shell of his ear. "Yes I do."

Satisfied by my tone, which had suggested I had also felt the tug of loneliness without his presence, he had finally released his hold of me, taking a fluid step backwards so we met the socially acceptable distance.

"Is it possible for me to know the reason what has delayed your visit or am I not allowed to be divulged in that secret?" He did not inquire the question to gather information but rather than to state an unofficial challenge of who was the better tease. Silently accepting his challenge, I lowered my lashes, stepping subtly closer.

"Unfortunately for you, my visit is not one of blissful nature." His eyes had lost their cheerful ember, dulled by the sea of confusion. I consumed the warm breeze in the room, hoping it would supply me with courage to inform him of my predicament. "I have come here to inform you that I am with child."

I had expected him to share the same look as my father, lips lax as if they were ready to simply fall from his face, eyes clouded over with a hazy veil, lungs momentarily frozen, his breath is caught in throat. Instead, his lips formed in a smile similar to my mother's and eyes glowed under the light of the chandelier.

Without a single indication, he stepped closer, once more wrapping his arms around my waist as he twirled me in circles. Our mothers and his father had just concluded their conversation and were to join us in the dining room when they were stilled by the sight of John twirling me nonsensically around. And in that moment of ecstatic happiness, John had whispered to me, "You are my happiness, my love."

The crisp echo surrounded the room as the girl turned another page, engrossed by the diary.

My days are filled long and tiring waiting and my belly aches as my child kicks, threatening to burst into the world any day. I posses no energy and unable to do training so I spend my days with my mother embroidering as she entertains me with the latest gossip.

It is very impolite to introduce oneself by complaining about the pains of their life however I can find no other way to describe the days that have passed after my second entry, dear diary. To your comfort, I have not come to burden you with my moans but only to inform you of the tête-à-tête I shared with my mother.

It was any ordinary day; my mother and I were resting in my chamber, mother sitting in a chair by my bed side while I was located on the bed, a moistened cloth covering my forehead in attempt to cool my slight fever. I recall a peaceful air settled around the room and for the longest period of time the only sounds audible to my ears was the hum of my breathing and the fluid pulling of thread as my mother embroidered fabric for a dress she was sewing for my child.

"Mother, what should I name the child?" The question came much unexpected for my mother, proven by the fact she had pricked herself with the needle, something I never seen her do in the any of my days.

"You have not decided?" She inquired, disappointment laced in her tone.

"No, I have not." I had attempted to hide my agitation but it was very obvious to the two of us that I had failed in my efforts. "I felt it was necessary to consult you first. I want my child to have an exotic name, one that demands attention and admiration from those around her."

"That is what every mother wishes for her child, my daughter." My mother informed me. There was wisdom and knowledge in her voice, softening her tone so the syllables of her words were as beautiful as the notes of a song.

"I don't simply wish for it mother, I desire it." I exclaimed to her, pleading for her understanding. My mother sighed, bending her head downward into a nod, a sign I had won her support.

For the next hours, we debated names until we both grew frustrated and worn from our constant bantering. As I was about to propose we delay this mêlée for a later date, a name danced before my eyes, one I particularly remember being very fond of.

"Kori." My mother stared at me with narrowed eyes, detesting the name instantly.

"Where did you hear that awful name from?" She questioned me with no genuine interest, her gold orbs veiled by vexation.

"I read it in one of father's books." She did not show surprise by the statement, or any immediate distaste, though I could already hear the long lecture burning the tip of her tongue

When she hesitated to reply, I took the opportunity in hopes I could convince her of its gracefulness."Please mother, just say it once. If you don't approve, I will forget my fanciful notions and ponder over a new name." With this promise, she dejectedly agreed, nodding her head quietly once more.

It was short but it rolled off my mother's tongue beautifully and with her voice of notes it flowed, seducing the moonlight to appear in our window.

"It will do." My mother commented apathetically but even she could not hide the tender smile that twisted her lips.

Pages turned in long pale fingers as she drank in the diary, completely engrossed by the woman's story, causing her ears to be deaf to the knockings at the door. After several more unheard knocks, a maid entered the room, opening her mouth to inform the girl that lunch was prepared only to close it at the sight of the girl standing in front of the vanity, her face leaning into the spine of a book. The maid, who was wise and knew not to bother the girl, quietly left the room, and informed another of her service women waiting outside to send a meal to the girl's room.

In the August heat, I give birth to a baby girl with a doctor, his assistants, my mother and three midwives present. For several months, I spend time in my room recovering my health and my little girl is nursed by a plump wet nurse, thriving every day. Once we are both allowed out of confinement, there is a party of my husband, family and friends waiting to bear witness to our new child.

As we entered the room it is set ablaze with the noise of jovial clapping, warmhearted greetings and grins not unnoticed by my observing eyes. Smiling and waving, I greeted everyone graciously who passed my way before I reached John, whom was settled in the farthest corner of the room. Tentatively, he held out his arms for which I placed our small child in, remembering my giggles at the pure terror in his cinnamon irises. At first, he struggled but with the gentle guidance of my mother and I, he was able to grasp a hold of her correctly, gazing upon her with dazed eyes, creating a hearty laugh throughout the room.

As my mother passed our daughter around for the party goers to behold and cherish and father collected our gifts, I used this distraction to whisper our daughter's name in my husband's ear. With amusement, I watched as his lips tugged into a wide grin, the warmth of his eyes brightening the room in a golden glow. It was not a thought but more similar to the nature of an instinct, nevertheless I believed in that very moment that we would be able to suffer an ordeal, even my secret hidden in you, my diary.

The tray had long ago been brought to her, sat upon the only available space on her vanity. It laid untouched as the girl buried herself deeper into the word's world.

I do not have the pleasure of time to write as detailed as I would prefer, my diary, for my mother and I have to pack my belongings for I am now moving into my newly built house.

To give you the brief history of events that have occurred John has spent a small fortunate on building a new residence for our small family. He has been sure to use every half a penny to its fullest and it is easily the grandest house in the area. I believe my mother is full of petty jealously but she refuses to admit such feelings. Kori will also be living with us for now I am considered in perfect health to care for her, a time I have been rather excited for though to the other women I have no reason to. We have employed a few maids to help us, an older one in case I am lost or in need of an assistance. The carriage is waiting outside and I fear I must go. It will be much later until I can write in you again, my precious, so until then au revoior.

At the start of the new entry, the girl briefly glanced at the date, calculating how much time had passed between the two.

The day before I am writing in you now, my dear diary, was our daughter's first birthday. In celebration, the maids have cooked us fabulous feast, once more rivaling even the king's meal. With wonderful delights in her belly and laughter in the air, our daughter fell easily into the realm of sleep after our wonderful dinner; comforted with the warmth of plush blankets as we tucked her into her bed. Reassured she would not awaken, John and I left her room, leading ourselves to our shared chamber.

For an entire year now, I have been observing John. I have noticed on many occasions as he stands in the doorway, scrutinizing Kori as she coos at my teasing, her emerald irises reflected in his liquid chocolate ones. I have come to believe he has searched our family history, seeking members with orbs the hue of emerald similar to our daughters and his search most definitely was fruitless. And with supple time to mull over his thoughts, I suspected he would confront me tonight on the subject, something I was ill prepared for.

Anxious thoughts consumed my mind as we head toward our room and by the time we arrived at the door, I was in a state of complete hysteria, shivering and clenching my fists in my skirts. Futilely searching for courage, I entered our chamber, followed closely behind by my husband. As I journeyed deeper, he turned around, guiding the door to a fluid close. The noise was piercing in the silence, vibrating against the walls, sending my heart racing in my left breast and I barely managed to collect my wits for I did not want to raise his uncertainties any higher.

Dancing to the notions of my heart, I settled into one of the plush chairs settled by the fire place. His eyes immediately veiled with suspicion over the new change, leaning against the door, his eyes seeking answers in my perfectly postured form.

"She is not yours." I told him, praying it would be enough to throw him off guard so I could end the conversation before it began.

"You know very well I know that. I don't believe that you ignorant to the searches I have had on our family lineage." His voice was suave and silken, a parry to my attack.

"Then what is it you wish to know?" His lips twisted into a smile for he was amused by my blunt ways, amazed by the devious in my words.

His smile flattered as he strained to turn his gaze away, his efforts futile. "Who is this man? Who is great enough to turn your attention and worm his way into your heart and then abandoned you impregnated to face the wrath of your husband alone? Who is this coward you would risk your entire future?"

A furious glow burned in the depths of his orbs, my heart lurching at the very idea this wonderful man who stood before me believed he was not worthy enough of my love. "I can assure you it was not an affair out of love."

I did not know at that time whether he would believe my words or not, yet whether out of the emotional ties of love or duty he had not stormed out of the room, an indication of his willingness to at least consider my accountant of the tale.

He sneered at the response, narrowing his eyelids as spat out his words. "Then why is it I am raising another man's child!"

Rouge flushed my cheeks. "You were not coerced to care for this child nor have I pleaded with you too. There have been many opportunities for you to throw my daughter and I onto the street and never turn our direction once! But here I sit, stilled sheltered in the home you had paid for and our marriage not annulled."

I had become the hue of red from the roots of my hair to the plunging of my cleavage, my voice rising drastically higher with every word. "It was obvious from the beginning this child could not be yours and now that it is a girl, you know very well she will bring you neither wealth nor glory. So why marry a deceitful woman such as I or care for a child clearly not your own. No other man would tolerate my whorish behavior yet this clearly does not seem to frustrate you as much as you imply now for you still had wedded me and had the bravery to declare that child as your own."

A silence had pursued one for he had not replied back, his eyes suffocated by the presence of an undecipherable emotion. When he showed no warning of his words, I continued to plead for his understanding, placing every emotion I had experienced in my years into my words.

"I do not expect you to believe me however I beg you to listen. It is my greatest wish that I could fully express the sincerity of my emotions. When I am near you, my heart starts to pound at alarmingly pace and I develop this tingling from the crown of my head to my toes that I can almost deluded myself that if I were to jump I would develop wings and fly to our heavenly lord's home. That man was nothing more than a nightmare, a glaring mistake for which I have placed the burden on you and my daughter. It is my greatest sin to love you and my most tormenting guilt to know that you have found room in your heart to love such a cruel woman as I, a woman undeserving of your attention and time."

He stepped closer, his footsteps echoing as they connected with the floor, his tone as gentle as silk. My heart beat in my chest, singing as lightly as the chirp of a bird. "Why did you let this man in? Why did you let him destroy you?"

"I did not choose to let this man in!" I had screamed, trembling in my chair. "I never wanted to be near him. He violated me; he stuck that lecherous mouth of his and licked every hole in my body. For hours, he continued to torment me until I bled and I screamed and I screamed. I tried so hard to escape but he caught me and pressed into me and I could not free myself." I was unable to speak for the sobs broke my voice, tears streaming from the corner of my eyes.

He stood close, a breaths hair away, pulsing a gentle warmth as it surrounded me, washing over my frame. With tenderness, he grasped my hand, coercing me to his frame, engulfing me with his arms.

"Why do you hold me? Why do you hold such a sinful woman such as I?" Hot tears trailed down the length of my nose, dangling for a moment's notice before it fell.

"It is true I married you with full knowledge this child was not mine. I will not try to deceive you and claim I was not angry however the sight of your face filled with joy under a façade of anxiety I knew of your love. That man had committed his grandest mistake by letting you go where despite you fear you ran to me, ran back into my arms regardless of your inner turmoil."

His hands, callous against my skin, held my face, fingers stroking away my tears, lips sparing light kisses over my eyelashes. "Is that not the proof enough? Does your loyalty, alongside with your beauty, intelligence and kind heart mean so too little to you?" I had tried to pull my face away; to step away from him before my presence tainted his saintly soul anymore than it had.

"You are my wife. It is my expected duty to not only love you unconditionally but to protect you and help you cope with your dilemmas, whatever they may be. That child, while by physical means is not mine, however is indeed yours and therefore that makes it my duty to raise this child as if it was mine and provide its need to the best of my ability." He placed a light pressure on the line of my jaw, compelling my eyes to stare unhindered into his.

"This is our family. This is our life. This is our love. We can't help the circumstance we had come together nor can we change them. We have to make do with what we have in our possession. There is no time to worry about the ifs of our life nor would it be productive. I simply wish to love you, to hold, to have pride in the fact that you have chosen me of all men to stand by your side for the rest of your days. Will you deny me of that too?"

I grasped his hands, tenderly shaking my head. "No, I will not."

X-x-X

She scavenged through the pages, empty and lifeless without words and she had come to the realization that no more entries were written. With her curiosity satisfied, the book folded to a quiet close and once more she reached out her arm, this time returning it to its original resting place.

As she was about to collect her tray and head toward the door, to replace the chilled food for a warm meal, the door was pushed ajar. The visitor had slipped inside without her invitation, closing the door behind their slender figure as they leaned on its wooden surface.

Long crimson hair cascaded down in smooth waves, eyes the color of the sunset glowed brightly under the shadows of long eyelashes, caressing her upper cheeks. A curvaceous figure was shaped by an exquisite gray formal gown; her skin illuminated to the hue of silkily ivory.

"Oh, mother." The girls stated in soft surprise, a smile lighting the beryl depths of her irises. "I apologize for not coming to lunch. I was fascinated by one of my books and I simply could not find it in my will to put it down."

Golden irises shifted around the room, studying it with an uneasy discomfort before glancing at the chilled tray in her daughter's hand. The girl followed her mother's gaze, peering at her untouched food without regret.

"I was about to go give my tray to the maids in the kitchen. Do you wish to join me?" The smile twisted higher on the girl's face, emerald depths filled with a vivid clarity.

"Please sit down." Her mother had suggested, directing her hand at the chair settled under the vanity. "For this is going to be a long conversation, my precious Kori."

Author's Notes: Well I have finally written a version I am truly satisfied and happy with. Only took me several years but I got it done. Okay I have a few notes I want to make to you so without further adieu.

1. I have tried my best to keep Kori and her mother as historically accurate to a Victorian woman without bending their thoughts and actions to the point that I don't even recognize them. I know that some the etiquette and social behaviors might be incorrect for I do not have as much knowledge as I wish about that subject. For those who know the Victorian era especially well I have to ask you to over look it or advise me on how to correct my mistakes.

2. As you all know I have set the location of the story on the fictional island Hope Isle which I have stated many times is geographically located across the United Kingdom. On a map there is a piece of land or island near England and that is Ireland. For the sake of this story and less confusion, it will not exist in my little story.

3. In the Victorian Era to have sex before you are married is one of the biggest sins any woman can do. Even if Scarlet was raped, it is an even bigger sin and scandal to have another man's child while you are married. Now in real Victorian time, her husband would be allowed to divorce her but if he really loved her he could recognize that daughter as his own and thus not make the baby illegitimate or they would have either kept the fact a secret as long as possible.

To understand the plot of the story better I have made a timeline for this chapter. I will do this for every chapter I repost. The timeline will have additional information that would interest you and possibly you better understand the events of chapter. As a reader, I suggest you at least glance at it.

X-x-X

Chapter One Timeline:

July 3, 1755

While out fishing, a group of English fishermen discover an island just off the shore of Great Britain. They quickly sail back to England, where they collect their families and then travel back to the island where they create a new colony with their own form of government. They name the island Hope Isle after the name of one of the daughters of the fisherman.

August 15 1758

Officials hear of the disappearance of the fisherman and their families and investigate into the matter. They retrace their steps and by luck a current leads them to one of the shores of the island.

September 9 1759

After several meetings and discussions the fisherman and the British officials come up with a treaty in which the fishermen pledge loyalty to the King of England and are bound to the requirements to send men and ships if an outbreak of war, food during famine and free trading. In return the fishermen are allowed to have a self government and create their own army for protection purposes.

August 11 1760

The first trading ship is sent from Britain to Hope Isle with goods of clothes, weapons, beer and medicine.

September 19 1760

The first trading ship is sent from Hope Isle to Britain with native tropical food that can't be found in Britain.

July 23 1778

After months of traveling, a band of pirates land on the southern shore of Hope Isle after hearing rumors of an island near England filled with money, beautiful women and the fountain of youth. Furious at the incorrect description of the island, the pirates attack the nearest town but are quickly beaten by soldiers of the Hope Isle's army.

July 27 1778

The pirates are sentenced to death by hanging on the orders of Hope Isle's government.

July 30 1778

Soldiers of Hope Isle attempt to push the pirate's ship into the sea but are proven unable.

September 20 1779

A large group of civilians attempt to push the pirate's ship into the sea but meet the same fate as the soldiers.

May 10 1800

Once again another large group of civilians try to push the pirate's ship into the sea but also fail.

May 13 1800

A ban is passed not allowing citizens to enter the southern shore, for the reason of the pirate ship. After the shore is discovered by a group of children, all adults meet and devise a unified story. They tell their children that the shore is haunted by the spirits of the disgruntled pirates, which is the first known tale of the legend. All maps that show the location of the southern shore are banned and required by law to be redrawn. By the year 1806 no one knows the southern shore's location.

April 6 1827

Eight year old Richard Anders is told the true tale of the pirate's visit from his father who had read it from a hidden book in his father's (Richard's grandfathers) library.

July 31, 1836

John Andrews is born to Marie Lacroix and Sebastian Andrews.

December 22 1840

Scarlet Anders is born to Richard and Elizabeth Anders.

June 10 1842

Edward Anders is born to Richard and Elizabeth Anders.

February 23 1846

Scarlet Anders begins her first training lesson with her father.

January 5 1848

On a snowy day, in their family library, Richard reads the passage in the book found by his father that tells the true tale about the pirate's landing on the island to his children Scarlet and Edward.

September 12 1854

During a play created by the children of the town, Scarlet Anders is distracted from the show by one of her many suitors who is demanding an answer to his proposal. John Andrews comes to her rescue by excusing the suitor, who is his younger brother, and apologizes for his rude behavior. Scarlet immediately thinks of him with high regard.

November 10 1854

John Andrews and Scarlet Anders once again meet when they are found going to the seamstress, John accompanying his sister while Scarlet is following her mother. As the introductions pass along, John and Scarlet engage in a conversation. By the end of the two girl's fittings when John comes to collect his sister, he asks for permission from Scarlet's mother to let him take her to the opening of the public gardens.

November 15 1854

At exactly five o'clock, John Andrews collects Scarlet Anders in a carriage to take her to the public gardens. Scarlet Anders, accompanied by the presence of her mother, enters the carriage a little after John Andrews arrives, after he is introduced to her family and then they leave for the gardens. During the night, John and Scarlet, manage to isolate themselves in a quieter part of the gardens where John confesses he is enamored by her. Scarlet admits having the same feelings and they both share a kiss.

November 18 1854

John Andrews is named the general and commander of the Hope Isle's army.

November 21 1854

While passing their residence, John Andrews invites Scarlet Anders and her mother to lunch at a local cafe. They both accept and meet up with John's parents where the group shares a delightful meal and jovial conversation.

November 27 1854

After meeting in several more parties and lively lunches, John Andrews goes to the Anders's residence where he asks Richard and Elizabeth Anders for the pursuit of Scarlet's hand, where he presents them with many beautiful valuable gifts to show his ability to support their daughter.

November 30 1855

John Andrews proposes to Scarlet Anders in the public gardens they held their first date. He presents her with a ring and a decorated fan from Japan. If she accepts the gifts with her left hand than she accepts his proposal and if she accepts the gifts with her right hand she declines it. Much predicted she accepts the gifts with her left hand.

December 1 1856

The British Empire falls.

December 15 1856

Half of Hope's Isle army is sent to Britain along with several navy ships and trading ships full of food, clothes and weapons.

December 21 1856

Scarlet Anders is raped in the abandoned pirate's ship on the Haunted Shore by an unknown man.

February 17 1857

Scarlet Anders writes her journal entry about her rape in a black bound diary.

March 5 1857

Scarlet writes her second diary entry about her pregnancy and her family's reactions to the news.

June 4 1857

John Andrews and Scarlet Anders are married.

July 17 1857

Scarlet writes an entry about deciding the name for her child with her mother.

August 21 1857

Scarlet Andrews gives birth to Kori Andrews. She writes a journal entry about the experience a couple days later.

August 22 1858

Scarlet Andrews writes about the conversation with her husband John as she tells him the story of her rape and how Kori is not his child.