"Love is not always happy endings; it can cause the most sorrowful endings of all."
Love
They have returned from the graves; everyone trudging in with exhaustion of the day. The maids and servants scampers like little puppies waiting for attention. Julia waves them away from her and moves slowly up the stairs, not bothering to listen to Waverly's orders or Lydia's questions regarding her health. She wants her bed. She wants to be left alone.
The hallway is unnervingly quiet. The windows are open and the soft wind blows in, the curtains floating as if they weigh nothing. The practiced compliments and greetings could be heard from the foyer below, but there is no one up here. Strange. Julia continues to walk up to her room, her eyes glancing back and forth at the paintings that rest on the walls. She gazes and once she reaches the door of her bedroom, she raises her hand to the handle. She stops.
"La la la la..."
What?
"Oh the navy men came running..."
Who is that?
"Oh the navy men came home..."
Someone is singing, their voice soft and tender, almost like an unseen angel singing her song of hope. But this is no angel. Someone is in her room. Someone is in her room.
"They saw my deep blue ey-"
The door slams open and Julia barges in, her eyes narrow in fury before they set upon the scene in front of her. It is a maid. Her chocolate eyes widen and her slim hands caressing her dark hair, what is brushing through the locks shocks the Boyle heir. It is her mother's hairbrush.
The maid, no older than nineteen, places the hairbrush back on the table and stammers. "My-My Lady! I... I can-"
"Get out." The words are full of malice, almost threatening to slice the girl in two. Julia's body shakes with uncontrollable rage as she grinds her teeth again. "Get. Out!"
No words could pass the maid's lips. Instead, she lowers her head and quickly runs out of the door, muttering apologies along the way. It doesn't matter now. Julia checked the room, seeing invisible markings that the maid has left in her wake; the smashed statue that once held her key screaming the loudest of what she had done. The key is gone.
She feels her knees buckle, her hand trying to keep the young woman afloat. "Oh Outsider no..."
She slowly turns her head, glaring at the hairbrush resting innocently on the table. She stumbles over to it and places both hands on the smooth wood, her breathing coming out as short gasps. She looks at the hairbrush, a few strands of dark hair that is lighter than her own visible in-between the bristles, and slightly drags her fingertips along the bejewelled handle. Looking away, darkness starts appearing in the corners of her eyes, her chest pounding wave after wave of agony and nausea through her entire body. She couldn't...
She couldn't stand any longer. Her vision is fading and her chest threatens to cave in on itself, the last thing she could feel is her body connecting with the floor. The last thing she could hear was her aunts' frantic footsteps coming closer to her and their screams. She sees nothing.
It is her aunt Waverly who calls out. "Julia!"
Darkness.
-f-
"Oh the navy men came running." The voice singing the words was soft. Gentle and soothing. The young Julia listened in on the words, smiling as the hairbrush slowly moved through her hair, almost matching the pace of the song perfectly. "Oh the navy men came home."
The woman sitting behind, long legs encasing the young child from the outside world, was singing very beautifully as she continued to drag the hairbrush through the black locks. Occasionally, her delicate fingers followed in the brush's wake, caressing the lush strands of hair. Her own was blond, shining magnificently in the warm sunlight. The garden grass acted like a cushion for them. The birds and the butterflies acted like the entertainment. They were happy.
A small hand grabbed the woman's wrist, and pale blue eyes stared up. "Mother, why do I have to stay inside all the time?"
"Because Julia..." Esma started, her nose buried into the young girl's head affectionately. "You are a sick child; we can't risk you getting seriously ill."
Julia gave a small frown. "But I won't mother, I'm a strong girl. You tell me that all the time."
Esma smiled against her child's head. "I know, I know. But if I were to lose you..." she trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish her sentence. Julia seemingly did not notice, or she did not let on that she did. Instead, she picked up a few flowers that were growing off to the side near them, and began to weave their steams together. The brushing continued, accompanied with the weaving of flower stems. Neither one thought of going back inside, nor did they worry about Waverly finding them out. They sat. And weaved. And sang.
Tweet.
Tweet.
Tweet.
The calls of the birds rang through the summer sky. Small blue birds happily soaring through the air, nothing hindering their wings or flight. Julia smiled as she watched them, her hands busily working away at her secret masterpiece. Esma carried on with brushing and singing, only occasionally stopping to watch the world live on. Finally, her daughter stood up and presented her mother with a gift; a flower crown.
She added with a smile. "I made this for you, mommy!"
"It's beautiful!" Esma gasped. Her hands drifted over Julia's as they moved to place the crown on the queen's head. Queen of their own little world where no one said mean things, and no one murdered each other. It was just a child's world. It didn't mean anything when the child would grow up. People said things and people killed each other, no matter how much she wished for it to not be.
She didn't know those would be numbered, until it was too late.
-f-
When Julia awakes slowly, the familiar feeling of a warm hand on her forehead could be felt, causing hope to rise in her stomach before she finally comes too. Lydia is sitting there, a look of pure relief takes over her once-anguished features, and she sighs softly. "You scared us Julia..."
"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice a gravelly croak. "I didn't mean too."
A soft smile twitches at the corners of Lydia's lips. "I know." Removing her hand from the younger's forehead, Lydia stands and turns to the door, her hand touching the object as she whispers instructions to the maid. Julia does not bother to listen. She knows them like an actor would know the lines off his script, reciting them in her head while they were spoken by her aunt. The maid nods softly and passes the Boyle woman. Slowly, Lydia disappears into the vast maze of hallways, the tell-tale click-click-click of her shoes slowly fading away.
The maid then speaks. "Your meal will be ready in a few moments Lady Boyle."
A nod. Julia says no more, as there is no more that needs to be said. After what happened mere hours ago, her aunts will surely tighten their invisible grip on her, slowly suffocating the woman with rules and regulations that she must follow. She didn't ask for this. She didn't ask to be a sick child who everyone would cuddle and kiss her pain away, no one could do that. N one ever will.
Surely, the food on the silver platter comes just minutes after, carried by one of her personal servants. He places it on her lap and takes away the lid, showcasing the delicious food just for the woman's picking. He bows and leaves, not sparing a single syllable to Julia, not that she minds. The food quenches her protesting stomach and slowly but surely, her strength starts to return.
As she eats, the maid looks at the spot where the statue was knocked over. "It is a shame my Lady, that truly was a beautiful statue." She sighs. Julia ceases her eating and glances over to the maid, her nose crinkled and her chin held high.
"Yes," she started. "But came from a wretched man."
Giggling, the maid nods and turns to her master, curtsying politely before leaving the room to carry on with her duties. Finished with the food, Julia places it by her side and removed the duvets from her body, standing slowly so she doesn't wind up feeling dizzy. The room is cleaned. The shards from the broken statue cleared away and look as if it never existed. The key however, could not be found and is most likely lost forever.
Running her finger through her hair, Julia snorts. "My aunts better have fired that maid. How dare she touches my mother's hairbrush?! Defiling it with her mere presence?!"
As she continues to rant and rave at the empty space in front her, her back facing the window as she once again looks at the mirror, she suddenly spots a small letter cleverly hidden in the mirror's frame. The maid mustn't have spotted it, or mistook it for one of Julia's love letters that she never responded to. Plucking it from the frame, she fails to hear a slight thudding from behind her.
To my love...
Thud.
I miss you so...
Thud.
But don't worry...
A cloth snakes around Julia's head, soaked in unknown chemicals that she quickly and unintentionally inhales, causing her head to start swimming. Her hands grow limp and the letter floats to the ground, laying there as the unknown stranger proceeds to throw the woman over his shoulder and disappear through the window, leaving no trace of what happened. The last line of the letter is bolder, as if the person writing couldn't contain his excitement.
We will meet in a few hours. My love. My precious. My Julia.