The day the news came rose dark and foggy; winter was coming, a winter that no one in the whole Kingdom could forget, later remembered by the name of the Lady Earth's Vengeance. The wind blew strong and ice-cold, freezing and slicing anyone on its path, and the snow fell timelessly long. The herds died, the plants didn't survive and the population suffered from countless losses. Even the Royal family seemed not to be immune to the nature's wrath, the Heir-Prince almost losing his life to one of the countless diseases originated from the cold. Because of the latter one, the Prince was now missing half of his right midget finger. During the mentioned period, the sun was always hidden, covered by tempestuous clouds, and so was the joy of the people.
However, before all causalities took place, a bigger tragedy strolled shamelessly uncaring upon the girl's life. She had just gotten used to the ambiguous way the woman – pardon, mother – treated her – when her father was present it always sounded: darling this, darling that; however, when he was away, a smile was never present –, when it happened.
That day's afternoon was already dark as evening and the fireplace of the leisure room held supposedly warming flames, but cold didn't let itself beat easily. The embroideries were taken out, as well as the tools to finish them, but the shaking hands couldn't see a way to complete them. The woman had taken the girl's deceased mother's seat, the closest to the fire, her minions had matching stools arranged around it, and the three sucked all of the fire's warmth, sharing it with no one else.
The girl's usual seat, when her father was not present, took place near the window, whose view lied upon the street. That meant she sat the furthest away from the fire and the closest to the cold. Trembling under her woollen shawl – the only warm clothing she was allowed to wear –, the girl tried to push the uneasiness that kept pricking her senses away by focusing on the unwise peasants on the street. Who would sanely go out in such an unpleasant day? Eyeing the dark figures, her gaze set on one stranger, who stood out. The black, warm cape seemed too expensive; the man clearly didn't belong to the lower classes. Why was a wealthy man on the streets, when he could be wrapped with a warm house's comfort? Her interest for the man grew, as he approached her house's doorstep. The bell rang and a servant opened the door. The girl's gaze moved from the frosty window to the room's door.
One minute later, the man entered through it. He had let his black cape be taken off, presenting himself dressed in a matching expensive attire. His greying dark hair stood messy; the wind having it shaped that way. His tired features held a taste of sadness. Gravely gazing the women, the man cleared his throat, his eyes showing uneasiness, as if he were searching for words.
'Mme. Reillier, Mademoiselles...' He paused. 'I... Monsieur... Well...' He passed a hand through his bewildered hair and was no longer eyeing the women, concentrated on the tapestry that hid the floor. 'I come in the name of M. Lagalle. As you may know, M. Reillier was staying at my Lord's manoir... The maids found him dead in his bed. He was as white as chalk and very cold...'
The girl had lost the man's voice, while she slowly processed the content of his speech.
Her father was dead, he was dead, dead. How could he be dead? He was dead. DEAD.
Reality finally hit her brutally and she violently started trembling. Tears fell unwillingly, though she made no sound. HER FATHER WAS DEAD.
While she was hysteric, Mme. Reillier had let some tears fall and Anise had gasped at the news. Dabnise lowered her gaze, not wanting to show how unaffected she was by her stepfather's passing away. The governess, who had followed the gentlemen, had made her way to the crying girl and was trying to soothe her.
Composed, Mme. Reillier spoke to the man, who hadn't moved. 'I thank you, M. ...'
'...Frank.' He supplied.
'...Frank.' Mme. Reillier smiled slightly. 'It would be nice if you talked to the head-steward about the procedures... I hate to be so inhospitable, but I would advise you to leave as soon as you can.'
'I understand, Mme.' He bowed and a servant led him away.
The moment the door closed, the woman shot the girl a deadly glance. 'Will you shut up?' She barked. When the girl made no motions to calm down, the woman turned to the governess. 'You.' She snapped. 'Make her stop, now!'
'Mme.' The governess dropped her mouth faintly. She knew how unladylike Madame could be, but she never knew the woman to be as heartless as that.
'Fine.' She retorted. 'If you don't do it, I will.' The woman stood up and made her way to the hysterical girl. Her hand hit dryly on the girl's cheek, a loud, hurtful noise echoing through the walls.
The frenzy stopped being replaced by an astonished silence.
'Go to your room.' The woman commanded. 'I will call you, after I'm done with the others.' The woman was pure venom.
Still too surprised to retaliate, the girl made her slow, weary way to her room. Fatigue bore into her as soon as she lay on her bed and briefly enough her eyes closed. The darkness pressed into her lids should have felt more harmful, she noted, but it was nothing compared to the lack of light she felt within her, as it sliced through all pureness that was left.
With her father, she was now gone as well. The girl she buried herself into the void of life, disappearing completely and leaving nothing behind.
Minutes dragged to hours and she still hadn't fallen into unconsciousness. She wondered if it had to do that there was no consciousness to shut off, if the nothingness she was when awake had no way off to an insentient oblivion.
She wished to have the strength to ask why her. She wished to blame all the tragedies that took place in that life she is forced to call hers on someone else. She wished to wish, because if left with nothing, there's only emptiness waiting ahead. A sweet, dark, and heavy emptiness.
As the clock kept ticking, the obscurity thickened continuously around her, strangling her until it stole her breath.
Then, nothing more.