PLAUGE ON ALL YOUR HOUSES
Chapter VI
FREEZING – it had been cold all night. Never before had she shivered so much as she slept than she had that night. Water dripped from the ceiling, hitting the dirt floor, turning it to mud. Another drip hit her legs, and another dripped above her head, which was more infuriating than anything.
Every loud noise had her flinching, and even when the thin blanket or a piece of straw touched her wrong, she flinched, her heartbeat raced, and numerous times she almost cried out. It wasn't supposed to be like this; normally she didn't frighten easily – yet why was it that every bump, every noise made her thing one of those men were going to go and grab her again? Finish what they started?
It was a long night, to say the least.
She woke with a start at the knocking on the thin, flimsy door. Stella looked down at herself; only wearing her undergarments, her white under dress and the actual dress – ripped as it was – were off her body, hopefully drying at the end of the bed. "A moment," she pleaded, as she scrambled to get the white garment on her body, her body twisting and tangling in the thin sheet before she stood, grabbed the white dress, and threw it on her body.
It was freezing and damp, despite her efforts in wringing the water out of it the previous night. She didn't feel comfortable letting the man who helped her last night see her in such attire, so to her loathing, she also put on the dress, and held together the ripped part with her left hand. "Who is it?" She asked, not wanting to open it up for anyone except the owner of the house.
"Noctis." A male voice replied, much to her confusion. Was that the name of the boy who helped her? Now that the day had come, last night seemed more like a horrible nightmare, a nightmare with scarring attributes. At least she was able to keep a clear head – after all, if he helped her, even going so far as not even sleeping in his own home, instead opting to sleep in an inn so she wouldn't feel uncomfortable. He gave her food and shelter, was patient and caring.
She had to give him a little trust.
That didn't mean she would allow for him – or any other man – touch her again.
Her silence must have told him what she didn't know, because the man, Noctis, spoke once more, "I helped you last night?" He tried. "This is my home?"
Stella steeled herself, and opened the latch, swinging the door open, revealing the same man from last night. In the grey morning light, she was able to tell his features better. Dark hair – not black, as it had appeared last night, but rather a dark brown – bistre, really – and he had dark blue eyes – she would guess to be a Prussian blue – nearly undistinguishable unless she looked really closely.
Rather good-looking, once she looked past the tattered clothes, the greasy hair and unwashed face His eyes were emotionless, almost dead looking, though his countenance showed his nervousness. Stella shifted unconsciously, as she looked up at him. Belatedly she realized he was waiting to be allowed in, after all, this was his home – she didn't have a right to not let him in.
She stepped away from the door, allowing him in. As he complied, Stella's eyes lingered on his clothes – soaking wet…
He said he would spend the night at an inn, but his clothes were soaking wet, as if he stayed out all night. Stella's eyebrows twitched into confusion, as she gazed out to the dirt street. It was still raining, the magnitude abating to mere mist of rain, but rain nonetheless. Stella's eyes swivelled to examine him more closely.
He was deathly pale; his hair was still wet, his clothes soaked. His form was shivering slightly. Horror spread through her – he hadn't, had he? She never thought of it before, never thought that it wouldn't be possible that he wouldn't actually be able to find other lodging for the night. Now that she thought on it, it did seem odd that he didn't put her in an inn, and he stay at his home. As she thought back, ruminating on the previous night, he had looked so… yearningly at the sandwich – the sandwich he had given up with no fuss.
She had been hungry, yes, but probably not as hungry as he was.
"Sleep well?" He asked, without sarcasm, but genuine – if not a bit exhausted – concern. Stella nodded. She swallowed, concerned for the boy, but not exactly willing to get close to him. Same ghost hands flitted along her skin – how long would it take for them to disappear?
"I slept fine… Noctis," she began, trying to maintain manners. "And you?" She couldn't call him on it, because she knew better than most a man's pride – her brothers did the most foolish things on that subject alone.
"That's good." He murmured, ignoring her question, as he knelt examining the candle. "I have breakfast." He announced, and Stella found herself hoping that he had enough for him too. Last night was chivalry; if he did it again it would be foolishness.
"Oh?" She queried, as he sat down on the straw bed, reached in his jacket and pulled out the same thin cloth as last night, and unravelled it, revealing a small loaf of bread. Stella almost wrinkled her nose at it, upon seeing the state it was in – probably mouldy here at that point.
He ripped it in two, and she politely took it, eating warily and avoiding any discoloured spots. She watched him eat, no, watched him devoured his share, and once again was faced with the fact that he was probably starving. Her own stomach twisted, but she figured she could spare herself to wait. She held out her barely eaten bun. "I… I'm not that hungry." She tried, not sure if he would be offended. Noctis merely looked at her, before reaching out – making her flinch – and took the bun from her.
Stella curled her hands around herself, and looked away. Before she had been so bored with life she thought herself as a living shell, thought of death as a sort of release, but would never act on it. She had been spoiled, she knew, though the implications never hit her until now.
She was lucky she never voiced her childish thoughts to anyone else, for she would feel like such the fool now.
"I'll take you home," he offered, as he stood. "Or take you as far as I can go – you are of nobility, I suppose." He nervously looked away.
"Thank you." She worded, more genuinely thankful to him than she was to anyone in her entire life. "For everything," Stella clarified, just to make the point clear. He didn't overstep the new boundaries she had suddenly placed around herself, and he gave her probably everything he had.
She watched him, and noted that while he offered to take her home, he didn't seem to be willing to leave anywhere just yet. Taking in his lightly shivering form, and the bags under his eyes. "Um," she began, biting her lip, unsure as to how she should word it, "you need more rest." She finalised. He glanced up, and watched her stand, giving him wide berth, and sit down on the other side of the hut, regardless of how her ruined dress got dirty – what did it matter anyway?
"Yeah." He mumbled, before switching his place to where hers was previous. He settled into the bed, acting as if it were the lap of luxury, and soon – faster than she would have expected – he fell right asleep.
Time went by; how much she could only guess, long enough for her own eyes to begin to drift shut, as she watched him sleep – out of nothing else to do, really. She flinched each time her eyes closed, thoughts and fragmented nightmares of those horrid hands jolting her awake, only to see that her roommate was still slumbering and, in essence, she was completely alone.
Hugging herself, she spent her time openly staring at the boy. He seemed innocent, in a sense, at least around her; though, in some aspects, he was not – like some war veteran in a new, peaceful surrounding. No, that wasn't right – what was she thinking? She must have been more tired and stressed than she thought, to think such… honest stupid things.
He wasn't like that – he was just…
Her mind buzzed, for a lack of a better word. It hummed in near malfunction. Why was she so tired? Was it because of the terrible night she had? Probably. Her thoughts drifted to sleep, fantasising on her bed at home, comfortable and soft, with silk sheets and pillows, and thick, embroidered bedspread, with a duvet made of small, fluffy feathers.
Her eyes drooped, as she thought on her own bed, finally appreciating what she had. Before bed she could order a hot bowl of soup, something with so much flavour and so hot she could feel the heat as it went down her throat before settling in her stomach. She would take tentative sips, savouring the taste, before taking larger spoonfuls.
She would devour it, as her own stomach added, and be happy and content before she slipped in to her bed, feel the watery flow of the sheets against her clean skin-
A bath; she would take a bath first, once she got home, a nice, long hot bath, full of soap and oils and spend hours there, alone, with only a maid – a female – maid in her room in case something happened to her. She would soak everything up in the water up, and rid herself of all the dirt and grime and memories that she had accumulated during her 'kidnapping'.
She would dress in the thickest, softest robe, before returning to her room, where the maid would have already prepared her nightgown, and the hot soup, of course. Then, when she finally went to bed, with her window firmly shut and guards patrolling the halls of her locked room, she would finally fall asleep, free of all worries and…
"Miss." A voice called, jerking Stella awake as she looked around frantically, trying to discern where she was and why she was there, before she realized that it had only been a dream; she was still in that boy, Noctis' home, still probably far from her bedroom, from safety.
Noctis stood, staring at her, half bent, as if to see her face more clearly. His head was tilted, and it looked as if he was going to shake her awake, before thinking better of it. Stella blinked up at him, before nodding, and standing up.
Her shoe caught on the hem of her dress as she stood, throwing off her balance, sending her forward, her arms struggling to untangle themselves- a hand shot out, followed by an arm, before she was pulled into a strong embrace.
The first second, as her body was still in shock, her mind and heart caused a blush to erupt along her cheeks; she had never been held like this, so close, almost comforting…
The next second, however, everything went to hell. Her body, which had been in shock for the first second, and thus unable to react, kicked into overdrive, and her mind began to scream at her, reminding her of their hands, his mouth. She screamed, and began to struggle.
Her mind reeled, trying to catch up as her heavy breathing began to slow. Where were the hands? Whatever heat there was had left, and suddenly she felt very cold. Stella blinked; looking up, and saw Noctis, looking concerned as he clutched his hands close to his abdomen. Stella swallowed as her mind pieced together what it was that her frantic mind had missed. It almost seemed like a foreign concept.
He had let go.
The moment she screamed, the moment she struggled, or perhaps even before that, when she tensed, he had let go. So quickly, so unlike what those other men had done. She had screamed and screamed and struggled with all her might; she even begged to be let go, for them to stop; yet they didn't. They pinned her down, continued despite her unwillingness. Noctis, however, had let go.
"I'm sorry." She breathed out, "I'm really, really sorry – I didn't mean-"
"Don't be stupid." He interrupted. "You're not the first woman to get raped; I understand." He seemed so understanding, even backed up, giving her a half-smile, before he reached for the door. "I'll just wait outside while you… um… collect yourself." He worded, looking embarrassed, before disappearing outside.
Stella didn't leave.
Her mind reeled, replaying that one word over and over in her head: raped.
She hadn't been raped. Not in the way he was suggesting. She hadn't lost her virginity and they never even reached that part of her – bare anyway, though she reckoned that the experience would have been far worse if their hands touched her bare, without the thick dress acting as a shield. Was she overreacting? She didn't think so – even Noctis' touch brought forward such fear in her. She didn't think she could make such a thing up.
They only touched her – a terrible thing, of course, her body still tensed in fear and disgust as her memories brought forward the previous night.
It could probably be because it happened so recently.
Still, Stella couldn't help but feel she was being spoilt again; was she shaming every woman out there who had been raped? Granted, Stella would have been raped, had the man she killed not interrupted.
She killed.
"Oh no," she whined, before falling back against the wall. "No, no, no!" She cried out, as she slumped down to the floor. "No, no, no, no…" She murmured, holding her head in her hands. How could she have forgotten? How could she… "No, NO!" She screamed out, tugging at the roots of her hair – some pain in compensation. He technically hadn't done anything to her, just a faceless, nameless man.
The door opened again, as Noctis came to see what the yelling was for. He looked at her, confused. Stella raised her head to meet his gaze, her eyes glassy with tears.
Guilt crawled at her as yet another memory from the incident that only just happened, really.
His face, his countenance, filled with hurt, as she screamed and struggled, just after he released her, before clamming it up, making it rather blank.
She was a monster; a monster playing the victim, really.
A/N: Sorry its a day late! I was feeling a little under the weather, and actually fell asleep at 7:30-8:00 and slept throughout the night! So, here's MONDAY's update! Sorry, again! Read and Review!