Esme underwent a period of misanthrope as a child. The once laughing little girl became distant and withdrawn.
Death had marred her with a sadness that could not be eased away from her heart. And so instinct taught her to retreat deep within herself. Hiding from a world filled with sorrow.
Even her own recent brush with dying, seemed to worsen her inner emotional turmoil.
But though she was scarred internally from life, she continued to thrive within the confines of her new home. Barely coping, but enduring to survive as a last resort. But despite her infinite sadness, deep down she knew she had to go on living - must - go on to live life. Whatever that meant. There was no other way.
But there was always hope, however little of it there may be. And gradually with time and patience, but most of all - understanding, her grandmother's prayers were answered.
Esme was slowly learning to trust the woman whose house she was now residing in. Though she was unyielding at first, just as stubborn and valiant as her grandmother once was; she eventually learned that trust was not such a terrible thing at all.
And that it actually felt - good. It felt good to finally belong, to feel at home after such an ordeal, to have some of the emptiness filled. Knowing even though the void in her heart may never be completely filled. Though Esme was still very cautious and guarded; she finally allowed herself to be consoled from her grief, yearning it in secrecy but denied herself of it. For there will always be that fear instilled in her. Fear of losing loved ones. Fear of being powerless as the fates spun their thread of life, never knowing when the cord will be snapped at any moment as they decree.
But for the time being, none of those things mattered. For now, it was the inception of a new life for both of them. Everyday brought a new meaning and a new reason to look forward to the distant future.
Clementine learned a great deal from young Esme. Her granddaughter was silent yet implacable, and certainly headstrong. The time they spent together reminded the old woman of her youth; the promise it gave, the innocence it held, and how delicate life truly was. There were only three ways in which its path could lead, either nurture life, destroy life - or be destroyed.
Esme's own innocence was short-lived, her youth gone before it could begin. In a few short hours it seemed, she's grown so much older.
Like her grandmother, she was learning from the elder woman just as well. The first important lesson she learned in her grandmother's home was the value of patience.
Her grandmother did not tolerate incompetence and tardiness from her servants. And was highly reputable with her ire, but with Esme, it was different.
She was reasonably strict with the young child. But when it came to her episodes of emotional outbursts; Esme learned that Clementine's patience came not out of sheer necessity to placate her. Or because it was momentarily required for the sake of peace of mind, but rather out of her great love for Esme.
Clementine singularly understood Esme's volatile tendencies, because they mirrored her own.
She certainly was far more hard-headed than her grandmother. So instead of shouting vexations or cajoling punishment if she did not behave; she simply let the child alone. Allowing her anger to be spent till the storm subsided, then she would take appropriate measures for discipline. It was the only way the two could meet halfway. It was either that, or a compromise.
But perhaps the greatest challenge she faced as Esme's grandmother and guardian - was in educating her. Since her sight proved to be a great disadvantage, she could not read. She had to rely solely on her auditory senses. Clementine knew school was out of the question, but since she had experience as a school mistress in her later youth, she assumed the challenge would not be difficult.
This time, she was wrong.
And so, in order for Esme to actually enjoy listening to literary works, and to gain knowledge along the way; she would have to take the first step.
She was still very young at that time, but old enough to understand certain situations. Her grandmother took the initiative to commence Esme's academic goals for her, however difficult the task may be.
Clementine decided to start with simplicity.
The basics - so to speak.
Bed time stories.
An enticing stepping stone into the wonderful world of books.
Her grandmother would tell her if she was a very good little girl, and behaved like one, she would read her a story before sleeping.
The book her grandmother usually selected to read for her, was entitled 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll'. Clementine would read her one chapter before sleeping. If the next day she was still good, she would be awarded with another chapter again in the evening.
Some parts of the story, Esme did not approve of. She became very opinionated as a little girl, a quality she would retain in her later years.
"Why don't you like it?" Asked her grandmother one evening, as she tucked the blankets around her with ease.
Esme blinked twice. There was a muddled outline of a figure floating before her, it was as if she were looking through clouded glass. Sadly, the image disappeared before she could decipher it.
Esme leaned back further into her soft bed, before replying, "I do like it."
She felt her grandmother kiss her on the forehead. Esme could smell her grandmother's perfume, lightly mixed with the scent of sandalwood. It was a strange combination, but Esme liked it.
Clementine sat beside her granddaughter on the bed. She peered through her circle spectacles at the book; opening it as she deftly thumbed through the pages till she found the chapter she had marked.
Before her grandmother could commence the reading, Esme spoke again.
"But I think it is silly that she fell down that hole. She is too clumsy."
Esme's face was so serious, Celementine surpressed an amused chuckle.
"If you think it is silly my little one, why do you let me read it to you?" She asked the child; coddling her closer as Esme rested her head on her grandmother's lap.
Esme fingered the beaded detailing on her grandmother's skirt as she answered, "Because I like what happens, after she falls into the rabbit hole."
Clementine looked at the young child resting before her. She stroked Esme's wild caramel hair that sprawling over her lap. She was now nine years old, her grandmother marveled at how quickly she had grown. Only yesterday she had been so small, so defenseless, so fragile.
"Why do you like what happens to her after she falls?"
Esme shifted mildly, "Because, she escapes into another world..." She responds sleepily.
Clementine noticed her soporific voice. She decided to save the chapter for another evening. She closed the book and set it down on the night stand.
"Sleep well, love."
As Esme grew older, Clementine began to introduce her to Greek literature and arithmetic.
Esme adored the Greek myths, but detested math. She was an easily distracted student, prone to day dreaming during Clementine's lectures on roman numerals.
One late afternoon when she was twelve years old, they were in the sitting room drinking tea. It was raining outside, and they had been going over her studies for the past hour. Esme was sitting near the window, listening to the sound of rain. Her grandmother's voice was fading in the distance as she concentrated on the drumming of the storm outside.
"Esme, have you heard a single word I said?" An agitated Clementine spoke, closing the book in her lap with a loud clap.
Esme sighed and sunk back to her seat. She toyed with the hem of her indigo satin dress. Clementine had asked her a mathematical question.
"I'm awaiting your reply." Her grandmother said sternly.
"No, I did not hear a word you said, grandmother." She replied in the same tone as Clementine.
"Esme..." Said her grandmother warningly.
"I do not know how far a kilometer is, nor do I care what it's precise distance is!" She exclaimed in annoyance.
"Because you were not paying attention as usual! You're mind wanders constantly." Clementine admonished. She saw Esme shake her head, "How many times must I tell you to please, at least, show a little enthusiasm for your lectures. Or at least have the decency to listen, so that you will be informed!"
Her grandmother's regaling complaints echoed into her ear.
"Please grandmother. I do implore, pray tell this great importance of knowing the exact measurements of a kilometer. I barely leave this house. What is the importance of such information to someone with my condition?"
Clementine sat there fuming at her words. She knew what Esme meant. She had been hinting it all week. "You impertinent child. You know exactly why you are not allowed to wander by yourself."
"Because I'm blind! Say it grandmother!" Esme shrieked, folding her arms across her chest, "Yes, I'm blind. But I am not exactly a porcelain doll that should be caged."
It was Clementine's turn to sigh. She quietly placed the book on the table and stood up, "I think we need a little breather. You will remain here, our lecture is not over. Perhaps you need time to ponder on your own thoughts or knowledge, or lack thereof..."
Clearly today's lecture was not going well.
Esme listened to her grandmother's movements across the room, followed by a soft closing of a door.
She sat still for a moment, lost in her thoughts. Esme was becoming restless over the course of the week. She was beginning to tire of the mundane rituals of her restricted life. Locked away in the shadows, the cold four walls that kept her hidden from the world. She was safe as could be, but terribly unhappy.
A few minutes later, she could hear the grandfather clock chiming in the hall. Which meant another hour would begin. Another hour of lectures, both educationally and morally.
Even though her grandmother instructed her not to leave the sitting room till their lessons were over, that did not mean she was going to follow it.
She slowly took off her shoes and tossed them to the side. She allowed her feet to guide her past the carpeted floor till she could feel the door. Esme pressed her ears against the wood to make sure no one was in the corridors. Once she knew it was safe, she quickly opened the door and slipped past the servants discreetly.
She ascended the stairs in an inordinate fashion, quiet as a spider. Confident that she was out of earshot, she headed straight for her room and locked the door behind her. Esme wanted a chance to enjoy the rain while it lasted.
Once inside the privacy of her quarters, she took a wooden stool and positioned it exactly in front of the window. The rain had lessened to a sprinkle, but it did not matter to her.
Using her delicate hands, she caressed the window glass so that she could find its opening. The glass was cold, she could feel the wind just on the other side beneath her fingers. A minute later she found the sill, and used all her strength to open it. A soft gust of wind brushed past her as she lifted it to the top.
The sensation of the outside felt wonderful. Absolutely lovely. The air smelled of fresh rain, as it entangled itself into her hair. She took a seat on the stool and rested her elbows against the windowsill. Esme closed her eyes as she reveled in the soft kisses of water against her cheek.
It was a bitter sort of happiness. A dismal sort of stolen freedom. Just below the sidewalks, she could hear children playing in the distance. Their laughter filling her with envy, and a desire for a joy she could not fathom. She rested her head against the moist sill and started to quietly sob.
Esme was oblivious to the strange man who had been looking at her from his window.