Percival

Drea also sometimes noticed Percival. Most often she looked down timidly when they caught each other's eye in the street, but one time it also happened that she held his gaze fast.

That was about two years after he had first met her. He was standing guard in the square in the lower town, and she came there to get water from the pump. When she had filled her bucket, she looked up and saw him standing there in the corner of the square. Instead of picking up her bucket and going on her way, she slowly straightened and just stood there, looking at him with those immeasurably sad eyes. He gazed back at her, trying desperately to communicate to her without words. I have not forgotten about you. Be strong, Drea. Wait for me.

They kept staring at each other; Percival did not know for how long. It was like they had entered another world where only they existed. It could have been a few minutes, or an hour. When someone else who needed to use the pump addressed Drea, it was over. She turned and went carefully back with her full bucket without looking back at him.

Drea

I was fifteen when Elvin was developing a habit of staring at me. I did not like the look in his eyes when he did it. So I made a secret pocket in my dress and put my wicker knife in it. It was small but always very sharp. And at night I put it under my pillow. It turned out to be a wise move. One day Gertie and Elvin's daughter had a baby and Gertie stayed in her house overnight. Elvin had gone to the tavern after supper, so I was home alone. But in the night he came back, entered my room which did not have a lock on the door and tried to force me to go to bed with him. He got furious when I slashed him with the knife, but he was too drunk to really do anything. In the end I managed to fight him off. I ran from the house and spent the rest of the night hiding in a dark alley on the other side of the town.

The next day I was still very shaken and confused. I did not think my life was worth very much and the thought crossed my mind of making an end to it. But then I saw Percival in the square when I was getting water for soaking the wickers. He was standing guard there. As always I had very opposing feelings about him seeing me. In a way I desperately wanted him to notice me. But in another way, I felt the opposite because of my poor appearance. I did not want him to see me clothed in rags and I definitely did not think there was anything beautiful about me.

But this time I was so depressed that I did not really care. If I was going to end my life, I would have one good memory to take with me: Percival's face. So when he caught my eye, I did not look down. And the way he looked at me gave me new hope. Unbelievable as I thought it was, the look in his eyes told me that he had not forgotten about me. That he cared. I kept looking into them for a long time, hoping it would never end. It felt like nothing stood between us, and I wanted to enjoy it as long as possible. Again I remembered clearly why I felt the way I did about him. He was so strong, but also so gentle and kind. He was a knight. He protected the weak. I wished he would hide me in those strong arms of his forever. If he would, then maybe my life would be worth living.

From then on, I always made sure to stay away from the house when I knew Gertie would not be home during the night. Luckily it did not happen very often. It was cold to spend the night in the streets, especially one time when it had to do it in midwinter.

Over the next couple of years, nothing really changed. I just felt more and more like I was nobody. And I was always afraid that one day Elvin would catch me off guard and finally take what he wanted from me. I was always on my guard and made excuses to stay away from him, but I could see in his eyes that he was not going to give up, and I really hated him. And feared him.

If only I had been one of those people who always managed to stay hopeful and cheerful. But I was not. I was Drea the useless. Drea the stupid. All I had was my love for Percival, and even that was an endless source of frustration because I knew it could never bear fruit.

Some nights I sat awake, full of despair, and I would put my arm into the flame of the candle light, or slit my skin with the wicker knife. Just to be able to feel something, even if it was only more pain. Maybe I also deserved that pain. It caused scars, but I hid them by always wearing long sleeves.