Chapter Two
Sara stared blindly out at the streets. Cold and hunger took their toll on her and she conserved every ounce of energy she had. Ms Minchin had obviously spread word of Sara for none would hire her, not even for less than what Ms Minchin had paid her. Grimacing slightly as another pang of hunger bit her stomach, she adjusted her position on the cold cobblestone street.
A few passersby stepped around her and she held her hand out pleadingly, "Please, a coin for my hunger?" She hated to imagine how filthy she was – and she had thought she'd been dirty before, now, it was inescapable. There wouldn't be any place for her to wash until the spring when the available water would begin to thaw.
The man began to reach into his pockets, but his wife hastily pulled him away chastising him for giving money away to a little whore. He withdrew his hand and continued on his way while Sara felt the tears well up in her eyes again – not for the first time. It just wasn't fair; and the voice in her head kept on telling her that she'd been wrong all along about being special. If she were so special would she be here? Her sadness and fear turned to that of anger. Why had the war taken her papa away?
The tears rolled down in fat droplets across her thinning cheeks and fell to the snow where they melted it slightly. Sniffling a little she took a deep breath, habits that were long established were still in effect, she hated being seeing so helpless. Or was she? Perhaps she just wasn't trying hard enough. Gathering the few measly shreds of cloth that she'd found in various alleys, she folded them and tied them up in a square of cloth.
"I will not lose hope, I will not let Ms Minchin win, I will live."
A fellow homeless lady snorted and cackled, showing her rotten teeth and blackened gums. "That so, Missy?" She slapped her bony leg and laughed the harder sending herself into a painful hacking cough.
Sara stared at the deteriorated state of the woman and mentally shuddered, along with she told herself that she would indeed live, and not like this woman here, she'd live to see a much better life.
Two months later, a lot lighter in weight and not any nearer to success, Sara was looking painfully ill. Her cheeks were sunken into her face, her eyes were dull and there was nothing that could make her move at a pace faster than a shuffle. She ached and she easily exhausted herself. She was nearly dead to the world around her, for no emotion ever showed upon her pale face.
She turned her eyes to the muddy streets and watched distantly as little boys skipped and chased one another with pretend rifles, while little girls in frilly dresses and warm coats stepped cautiously over the puddles that would dirty their shoes. She'd once been like them.
This was her life, every day was the same and more often than not, she'd have next to nothing to eat. Begging at the back doors of fancy eating houses and rich households. She'd long ago given up the hope that anyone would hire her, especially with the way she appeared now.
Sighing deeply at the disgusting society surrounding her, she forced herself to blink. Even the simplest actions had to be focused on. Voices, loud voices. Were they talking to her? They drifted through her haze of awareness rather sharply, she better turn her head.
There before her were three men, just a little younger than she was. Had they scrubbed the sneers from their faces, they could have been deemed at the very least, smart looking. Obviously from the upper class; she wrinkled her nose, and they were very obviously drunk. Their breath could be smelled even from where she sat.
"Hey, you. Wench, I'm talking to you!"
She blinked again. They were talking to her?
One of the men nudged the other and gestured obscenely, "I'll give you fifteen pounds and consider you debts to be gone if you kiss her."
The man in question frowned heavily and staggered slightly on the spot, his speech was heavily slurred, "I'lls do nuthin of th'sort. Looks at 'er, she's more muhd than womans."
Another poke in the ribs, "No debt's from either of us and I'll throw in another fifty pounds."
At this, the more drunk of the three looked around blearily, "Tha's sisty five. I'm not doin' nuthin till at leas' 'undred." He struggled to cross his arms, found it impossible and let his arms fall back to his side.
Sara stared in shock and disgust at both the two men laughing at the other and at herself. She was too weak to even make an attempt to run for it, let alone scream for help – besides, who would listen to the pleas of a homeless person? She held onto the slim chance that perhaps they were talking about someone else.
"Fine, one hundred pounds and not a half penny more! Now remember, not just a little peck!"
The two men laughed and slapped the drunk friend forward, who glared back at them but staggered forward nonetheless. Toward Sara. She tucked her feet tighter to her body and hugged her knees, hiding her face in her arms. Whimpering in fright, she listened in fear as the man stomped clumsily closer.
"Come 'ere, l'il gurlie." He held out his hands, she saw that out of the corner of her eye and she shrank even further against the wall. Pain exploded in her head as she suddenly faced her tormentor. With a handful, of her once glorious hair, he could easily see her features. His face went blank for a moment and then turned sinister, "Yur a purty one."
Fear bubbled up within her and a scream fought its way up her throat, but it was never released as the man grabbed her by the neck and pressed her against the wall. Gasping for air and weakly clawing at the monster attacking her she felt the life drain away from her, even the cruel laughter of this man's two friends faded away.
Oh God, just make it quick. Please just end this pain, this misery, this torture.
She felt his lips drag across her cheek and quivered in revulsion as they made their way to her mouth. When they did make it, she snarled and bit into his lip. Hard. He screeched and backhanded her so hard that the world spun around her; he had let go though so she was able to drag in a few breaths before he hoisted her up to her feet by her neck.
"You l'il bitch!"
And this time, it was no backhand lash; it was a full forced fisted punch that knocked her mind away from the pain and the degrading actions he would likely take with her body. Blissful darkness overcame her.
She felt so clean and content, surely she must be in heaven now. Even the coverlets that covered her body felt like silk against her skin. A small smile touched her face, but it quickly faded as a lance of pain so strong lashed through her hazy vision. Was there supposed to pain in heaven? She didn't understand.
Moving her arms to stretch, she groaned as more of the pain flashed in her head and along her limbs.
"Ah, you're awake, about time too. We were all getting a little worried about whether or not that bloke had done any damage to yer pretty head there." Sara had yet to open her eyes, but she was almost certain that she wasn't in heaven. Tears almost spilled through her tightly shut lids, but she was alive and they stopped.
"Your lucky that the master came along when he did, otherwise that nasty man would have most likely had his terrible way with you. And then what? Where would you be then? Oh you poor lamb, you look like you haven't eaten in a year!"
That was closer to the truth than Sara would have liked to admit. But she decided to feign sleep, or at least to have fallen back asleep. She really could take the incessant chatter from the maid at the moment. She was almost disappointed in the fact that she would not be seeing her parents and that reason alone was reason enough to allow the damns set around her heart to open. Too long had she tried to keep everything to herself, and this was the final stage.
But the woman would not leave and Sara had no option but to let her tears to flow freely down her now clean cheeks. A hiccup was what finally drew the woman's attention to Sara.
"My dear, I'm sorry. Here I've been nattering on like an old hag. Come here poppet." A heavy weight was added to the side of the bed which Sara lay on. Soft arms came around Sara's body and enfolded her in an equally soft embrace. The woman was large, round and incredibly warm. "There there. Feel free to cry your heart out. You've been through quite the ordeal. Come, come." Sara didn't object and she let herself she cry herself hoarse. It didn't help when all this attention was being lavished on her as if she were naught but a young child waking from a horrible dream. Perhaps this was all a dream and she really was waking from it.
She opened her eyes.
Sara stared blindly out at the streets. Cold and hunger took their toll on her and she conserved every ounce of energy she had. Ms Minchin had obviously spread word of Sara for none would hire her, not even for less than what Ms Minchin had paid her. Grimacing slightly as another pang of hunger bit her stomach, she adjusted her position on the cold cobblestone street.
A few passersby stepped around her and she held her hand out pleadingly, "Please, a coin for my hunger?" She hated to imagine how filthy she was – and she had thought she'd been dirty before, now, it was inescapable. There wouldn't be any place for her to wash until the spring when the available water would begin to thaw.
The man began to reach into his pockets, but his wife hastily pulled him away chastising him for giving money away to a little whore. He withdrew his hand and continued on his way while Sara felt the tears well up in her eyes again – not for the first time. It just wasn't fair; and the voice in her head kept on telling her that she'd been wrong all along about being special. If she were so special would she be here? Her sadness and fear turned to that of anger. Why had the war taken her papa away?
The tears rolled down in fat droplets across her thinning cheeks and fell to the snow where they melted it slightly. Sniffling a little she took a deep breath, habits that were long established were still in effect, she hated being seeing so helpless. Or was she? Perhaps she just wasn't trying hard enough. Gathering the few measly shreds of cloth that she'd found in various alleys, she folded them and tied them up in a square of cloth.
"I will not lose hope, I will not let Ms Minchin win, I will live."
A fellow homeless lady snorted and cackled, showing her rotten teeth and blackened gums. "That so, Missy?" She slapped her bony leg and laughed the harder sending herself into a painful hacking cough.
Sara stared at the deteriorated state of the woman and mentally shuddered, along with she told herself that she would indeed live, and not like this woman here, she'd live to see a much better life.
Two months later, a lot lighter in weight and not any nearer to success, Sara was looking painfully ill. Her cheeks were sunken into her face, her eyes were dull and there was nothing that could make her move at a pace faster than a shuffle. She ached and she easily exhausted herself. She was nearly dead to the world around her, for no emotion ever showed upon her pale face.
She turned her eyes to the muddy streets and watched distantly as little boys skipped and chased one another with pretend rifles, while little girls in frilly dresses and warm coats stepped cautiously over the puddles that would dirty their shoes. She'd once been like them.
This was her life, every day was the same and more often than not, she'd have next to nothing to eat. Begging at the back doors of fancy eating houses and rich households. She'd long ago given up the hope that anyone would hire her, especially with the way she appeared now.
Sighing deeply at the disgusting society surrounding her, she forced herself to blink. Even the simplest actions had to be focused on. Voices, loud voices. Were they talking to her? They drifted through her haze of awareness rather sharply, she better turn her head.
There before her were three men, just a little younger than she was. Had they scrubbed the sneers from their faces, they could have been deemed at the very least, smart looking. Obviously from the upper class; she wrinkled her nose, and they were very obviously drunk. Their breath could be smelled even from where she sat.
"Hey, you. Wench, I'm talking to you!"
She blinked again. They were talking to her?
One of the men nudged the other and gestured obscenely, "I'll give you fifteen pounds and consider you debts to be gone if you kiss her."
The man in question frowned heavily and staggered slightly on the spot, his speech was heavily slurred, "I'lls do nuthin of th'sort. Looks at 'er, she's more muhd than womans."
Another poke in the ribs, "No debt's from either of us and I'll throw in another fifty pounds."
At this, the more drunk of the three looked around blearily, "Tha's sisty five. I'm not doin' nuthin till at leas' 'undred." He struggled to cross his arms, found it impossible and let his arms fall back to his side.
Sara stared in shock and disgust at both the two men laughing at the other and at herself. She was too weak to even make an attempt to run for it, let alone scream for help – besides, who would listen to the pleas of a homeless person? She held onto the slim chance that perhaps they were talking about someone else.
"Fine, one hundred pounds and not a half penny more! Now remember, not just a little peck!"
The two men laughed and slapped the drunk friend forward, who glared back at them but staggered forward nonetheless. Toward Sara. She tucked her feet tighter to her body and hugged her knees, hiding her face in her arms. Whimpering in fright, she listened in fear as the man stomped clumsily closer.
"Come 'ere, l'il gurlie." He held out his hands, she saw that out of the corner of her eye and she shrank even further against the wall. Pain exploded in her head as she suddenly faced her tormentor. With a handful, of her once glorious hair, he could easily see her features. His face went blank for a moment and then turned sinister, "Yur a purty one."
Fear bubbled up within her and a scream fought its way up her throat, but it was never released as the man grabbed her by the neck and pressed her against the wall. Gasping for air and weakly clawing at the monster attacking her she felt the life drain away from her, even the cruel laughter of this man's two friends faded away.
Oh God, just make it quick. Please just end this pain, this misery, this torture.
She felt his lips drag across her cheek and quivered in revulsion as they made their way to her mouth. When they did make it, she snarled and bit into his lip. Hard. He screeched and backhanded her so hard that the world spun around her; he had let go though so she was able to drag in a few breaths before he hoisted her up to her feet by her neck.
"You l'il bitch!"
And this time, it was no backhand lash; it was a full forced fisted punch that knocked her mind away from the pain and the degrading actions he would likely take with her body. Blissful darkness overcame her.
She felt so clean and content, surely she must be in heaven now. Even the coverlets that covered her body felt like silk against her skin. A small smile touched her face, but it quickly faded as a lance of pain so strong lashed through her hazy vision. Was there supposed to pain in heaven? She didn't understand.
Moving her arms to stretch, she groaned as more of the pain flashed in her head and along her limbs.
"Ah, you're awake, about time too. We were all getting a little worried about whether or not that bloke had done any damage to yer pretty head there." Sara had yet to open her eyes, but she was almost certain that she wasn't in heaven. Tears almost spilled through her tightly shut lids, but she was alive and they stopped.
"Your lucky that the master came along when he did, otherwise that nasty man would have most likely had his terrible way with you. And then what? Where would you be then? Oh you poor lamb, you look like you haven't eaten in a year!"
That was closer to the truth than Sara would have liked to admit. But she decided to feign sleep, or at least to have fallen back asleep. She really could take the incessant chatter from the maid at the moment. She was almost disappointed in the fact that she would not be seeing her parents and that reason alone was reason enough to allow the damns set around her heart to open. Too long had she tried to keep everything to herself, and this was the final stage.
But the woman would not leave and Sara had no option but to let her tears to flow freely down her now clean cheeks. A hiccup was what finally drew the woman's attention to Sara.
"My dear, I'm sorry. Here I've been nattering on like an old hag. Come here poppet." A heavy weight was added to the side of the bed which Sara lay on. Soft arms came around Sara's body and enfolded her in an equally soft embrace. The woman was large, round and incredibly warm. "There there. Feel free to cry your heart out. You've been through quite the ordeal. Come, come." Sara didn't object and she let herself she cry herself hoarse. It didn't help when all this attention was being lavished on her as if she were naught but a young child waking from a horrible dream. Perhaps this was all a dream and she really was waking from it.
She opened her eyes.