Thanx to the CalGal for her story The Fairy Ring, read it, it's great, and for her idea of Marguerite and her fairy playmates, I hope haven't said too much. It is a must read!
Warning: this chapter deals with serious issues, please do not take offence, it is my explanation for a lot of Marguerite's personality 'flaws.' I don't believe she was born that way.
Statistics say that 1 in 4 people will be physically, emotionally, or sexually abused at some point in there lives. There are five occupants in the tree house, chances areā¦
An eight-year-old Marguerite Krux sat at her vanity in the room of her uncle's house studying her reflection. She had spent the whole day outside running among the standing stones, playing hide and seek with the pixies. The children of the village thought she was daft and saw things, but the fairies were as plain as the nose on her face. They were the only reason she liked spending the holidays with her guardian, Uncle Frances.
She hated that man. He had been there from the very beginning, in the first memories of her life, where there should have been memories of her mother cuddling her, and her father bouncing her on his knee. She had no memories of them at all, but Uncle Frances was quite adamant about the fact that they had nothing to do with her from the moment she was born until their deaths when pirates overran their private boat off the coast of Taiwan. Then she had been sent to live with this man. No, monster.
He hired the meanest governess' he could find until she was old enough to be shipped to boarding school. She was removed from the first one within a month for cutting another little girl's hair in her sleep for telling her that she was crazy after she had caught Marguerite talking to the flowers in the garden.
The next school was the same. But Marguerite was smart, and soon learned how to execute revenge without getting caught. She was still being kicked out of schools, but the only official reason for it was that she was unable to make friends. Uncle Frances seemed to delight in her mischief instead of condemning her for it, and encouraged her mistrust of others to grow. In one school she had actually made a friend, but as soon as he received the letter in which she told him about her he withdrew her from the school. "At least he can't take the flower people away from me," said aloud.
She could hear Uncle's 'friends' downstairs laughing, drinking, and breaking things, and feared what the night would bring. It was always the same when he got drunk. The servants would lock themselves away the nights his friends from the pub came, and waited until they were all gone to come out and clean the mess left in their wake, but Marguerite did not have that luxury. She simply prayed that he would pass out before he found her door. She had fought him at first, kicking, scratching, biting, anything to get away, but he was too strong. She locked it once, hoping it would keep him out, but the next day he had the lock taken off the door. She would try to hide, but knew if he found her she would get much worse than what he originally planned. Now, she pretended to be asleep, and praying to anyone who would listen that he would go way.
She heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall, blew out the lamp, and jumped in bed facing the wall, and pulling the covers over her head. When she heard the telltale squeak of the door, she closed her eyes tight.
Marguerite sat up straight in bed, drenched in sweat. She looked around the room, not recognizing it at first. As realization dawned on her the not in her stomach cinched a little tighter. She felt like a little girl again, trapped by this evil man.
