Chapter 16: Found, Again

As the days passed by very quickly, before I knew it, I had lost track of time once again; as it began to seem to slip through my fingers like grains of sand on a beach-- and one day was no longer decipherable from the previous-- or from the following. The insanity was beginning to return to me, and though not to the same extent as it had manifested before in the past; instead, it seemed to settle down, as if considering itself a permanent visitor. I was subject to mild insane outbursts every now and then, but for the most part, I was still myself, and I began to despise both myself and the insanity equally; considering them to be separate, and yet the same.

I simply loathed the madness that coursed through my veins-- my entire body-- my very soul, and existence; devouring everything in sight, and making my existence more and more miserable and unhappy with each passing second, but at least I was no longer suicidal. I knew that there was still at least some hope-- I had been saved once, surely I could be saved again. I told myself this over and over to comfort myself, and to keep the madness quiet. Otherwise, I would have been a drooling maniac. I didn't want that for myself ever again. I didn't want to be the Beatrice that Elaine had found in the oasis all that time ago, but it grew increasingly difficult.

Time passed.

I soon forgot who I was; being lost for a second time was taking its course on my mind as it had once before. All of the grief and sadness that I had experienced in the last five years returned to me-- becoming my entire life. If I were to scream, no one would hear me. If I were to bleed, there was no one to come to my aid, and give me comfort.

And the dreams also continued...

They all seemed to revolve around the very forest in which I was imprisoned, and Jacqueline, and a nameless ball that had never been held... The dreams frightened me, for they were a constant-- the only frightening occurrences within the oasis that were sure to never let up... Sometimes, the dreams were forgotten by the morning, while others would continue to haunt me for weeks on end.

An entire year passed in this fashion before I was saved for a second time; and when I would be rescued again, more tragedy would ensue-- but I did not know this. I could not know this.

I was still so naive.

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The day dawned warm and bright on that day upon which my life was shattered once again, and I was saved by a second stranger.

I had just finished a long drink from the stream, and had begun a small breakfast of the bitter berries, which I had grown quite accustomed to, though my actions were quite forced-- your normal day-- suddenly, however, my actions were broken by an annoying song in the form of a high-pitched whistle.

My first thoughts were that Jacqueline had finally discovered my whereabouts, and that she would at last kill me; I rummaged about the ground, and found the dagger I had kept from the attic. I held it outward; ready to stab Jacqueline, when she-- but then, as I listened a tad bit more carefully to the whistle, and realized that Jacqueline's return was impossible, for the voice that produced the whistle was far too low, and not nearly as tone-deaf as the one that belonged to the hateful bitch, I closed my eyes; concentrating on the merry tune-- and attempting to place it, for it sounded quite familiar to me.

The tune was quite happy and gay; it reminded me of a lullaby that my mother had sung to me up until the time I was about five.

I stared.

A girl had entered my oasis.

She was very tall and slender; my age, perhaps a year or two my elder. She had a look about her that clearly red arrogance, and yet, I remained unsure about what it was that she could possibly be haughty about, She must have money, I thought, as she was quite ugly; a homely looking thing. She clutched a very large basket close to her flat chest, and her mousy brown hair was tied up in a knot. She wore a loose-fitting summer dress that helped-- but didn't hide the fact that she was lacking in the chest area. She laughed at the sight of me, and after a moment's hesitation, I gave her a kind smile; relieved that someone, at least had wandered into my life-- even by accident.

She looked down at my stained face, and stared at the berries in my hands with an upturned nose, "Don't tell me that you've actually been eating those things raw," she remarked, with a smirk, walking towards me, and gesturing towards the berry-bush.

"It's not like there's any means of cooking them," I replied, bluntly, already vexed by the girl's attitude, and shoving a small handful of berries into my open mouth.

"You sure are a filthy little thing," she whispered, looking me up and down with her dull brown eyes, "Tell you what. Pick me a basketful of those berries for the jam, and I'll bring you home to my mother and father. You're just what they've been looking for."

I stared at her; somewhat surprised by her bluntness, as she thrust the basket into my chest-- it was empty, "Do it now," she commanded, taking pleasure in bossing me around.

Who does she think she is? I wondered, annoyed, and stopping myself from rolling my eyes. If I did not follow her commands, I could end up in the oasis for another decade, so instead of retaliating, I simply nodded and obeyed.

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After I had at last picked for her a satisfactory basketful of berries, she led the way out of the oasis, and down a narrow path I had never seen before, "Father just loves a good Royal Jam," she was saying; and though I was barely listening, for I was still confused about what I was so "perfect" for, and tried to ask-- though every time I attempted to interrupt, she would start talking even louder as if she hadn't heard me-- she probably liked the way her voice sounded, though I was not sure why.

On the way back to her "modest" home, the girl revealed her name to be Jessica-- not bothering to learn mine, and then passed the rest of the time by launching into a very boring, and very tedious story about her stupid family, and how rich they were.

I yawned throughout her boring story; nodding and shaking my head when the right time came; after this had ended, she began talking about how her father had hired three seamstresses to make the dress that she was wearing right now-- and wasn't it simply gorgeous-- and how much did I think it cost; I pretended to be mildly interested.

Her long story finally ended when I first caught sight of her "modest" home, which turned out to be a sprawling four-story mansion. She frowned at the sight of it, and I looked at her skeptically; had it been my home, had I a roof over my head, and one so large… I would have been thrilled.

I beamed at the sight of it, and followed her inside.