Thank you, Guests, for believing in this story and I am glad you both enjoy it.
AnneShirleyBlythe, don't worry too much about the mythology of it all, basics will do most likely. But yes, this will change her life forever and how she perceives the world. But there is more to the story, a lot more. So I hope you will enjoy it!
Achereon-The river of woe and misery.
The first time she is out of a bed she sits out on the verandah. Wrapped up in blankets despite the August heat. Her long hair is loose around her shoulders, while Susan tries to get her to eat something but the attempt is futile at best. It's been days since she ate anything larger than a nibble of toast or spoonful of tapioca pudding, enough to quell the emptiness of her stomach for a short while when she felt it at all.
She barely speaks, and her sisters seem to avoid her not knowing what to say to her, while her brothers are hounding everyone around the villages and harbour if anyone knows anything. Fisherman, a boat, travelling up and down the coast, it's the only thing that makes sense-no one from the village would ever do such a thing.
Still, she hears the word for the first time out loud anyway, coming from her brother's lips.
"You're saying that the hooligans that raped my sister cannot be arrested?" Jem says so curtly, that she doesn't believe it's his voice. Filled with rudeness and antagonization.
Rape, raped.
It hit more than the word assaulted that had passed her mother's lips in a cry and her father's quiet and matter-of-a-fact voice nights before
"We have no actual proof, Mr. Blythe," the inspector who travelled to Ingleside says sighing and her Father growls and hits something. "I am sorry, truly I am Dr. Blythe,"
He only spoke a few words to her, she barely remembers them in a haze of not wanting to talk about it. the way he tried to comfort her, squeezing her shoulder as he left. She cried out, shrinking away from him as her Father tried to calm her down.
She looks at the bookcase, and the books around her.
The adduction…no the Rape of Persephone
She never understood the grievances that Persephone endured being taken by Hades. But now she does, she understands all too well.
Did she struggle? Did she cry out for help only to be laughed out?
She struggles to keep her composure, and in the end, she races inside and up the stairs grabbing the washcloth and soap. Tears poured down as she rubbed her skin red trying to wash off the feeling of their hands. It's Father who comes after he takes the cloth away from her while trying to embrace her without overwhelming her more. She cries into his shoulder, curled into his lap he holds her until she is exhausted from every emotion. She hears her mother's voice and soft steps, He tucks her back into her bed and sits with her stroking her hair as Mother lays next to her.
She wakes up to nightmares almost every night, that internal memory of someone forcing something into her body without permission. The searing pain, and her screams before they slapped her to get her to stop.
'You asked for this,'
'Pretty little things always do' and when she thinks it's all finally over the one holding her down takes his turn, by then she closes her eyes, tears falling into her ears.
It's the same all over again in the morning, quiet at breakfast so she can't say anything at all it would be too embarrassing. Her siblings try to talk to her but don't know what to say so she just stares off blankly as everyone talks about the war. Right War, Hades had come out to play, destroying her world. Jem and Jerry were talking about going, Jem hesitating slightly at the sight of her kimono-clad form that curled up and jumped at any sound.
When Sunday rolls around she doesn't know what to do, but laying in bed seems pointless. The lack of callers told her that what happened was not a secret. There was little way to hide such a thing when you had a search party looking for you. But when she shows up dressed for church, Mother and Father look at each other. They don't question her willingness, or tell her that she can stay home. They just kiss her hair and Mother ties her hair bow for her. She stays glued to her parents, feeling completely out of place in her white lawn and lace dress. Innocence and purity she read once about the pretty lingerie dresses that were popular of the day.
She was far from innocent or pure. Not when her mother is counting the days and trying to appear hopeful that maybe everything will turn out for the better. She doesn't have the hurt to believe her. Still styles her hair in a way to hide the cut on her forehead that almost healed. Would she be welcome in church? There is a deafening sound of silence that falls over as she walks past people. It was Rosemary Meredith who came up to her first and wrapped an arm around her. Rallying in support, that felt more stifling than helpful.
She wants to be home again, to be in her safe little white room. Why did she think she could do this?
It's not mentioned of course but it's evident that everyone knows. She hears it in whispers around her.
"I can't imagine it was any of our boys."
"I heard from my cousin a similar thing happened a few weeks ago. Fisherman travelling up and down the coast. Hooligans and ruffians all make up those boats these days."
"WelI, I've heard that the good doctor has yet to punish his boys for leaving their sister as they did. I mean Such a shame, pretty young thing ruined forever because of her own family's carelessness?" She hears
Ruined.
"I told the doctor's wife that fifteen is far too young to be out to parties, not even in Queens and already at a party? She was fourteen last month. But Mrs. Blythe said she has three older brothers to look out for her, she'll be fine."
"They forgot about her, though I am told she was dancing with Kenneth Ford and disappeared for a good hour or so before showing up for the cakes and ices. Now I know the Ford's and West's and Kenneth is a good young man, but even that is suspicious."
"In my day you had to be AT LEAST seventeen to go out of a party, and of course your escort had to be approved by your father and you wore a dress your mother picked out for you and none of this painted nonsense. Face powder is fine, but the rouge they sell to young girls as a tinted balm never."
"Half of the village was out looking for her, one has to feel empathy for the child. I wonder what the Blythe's will do?
"I mean we can barely blame the girl, though I suppose if we see less and less of her in the upcoming months we know exactly what they will be hiding?"
Hiding?
What would she even be hiding? She felt her stomach revolt, making her run away from her spot by the wall while her mother spoke to people. Towards the tree as she biles raises up and out of her body.
"Let us go home?" Dad says quietly handing her a handkerchief. She can only nod her head, not wanting to cry, not wanting to show anyone that she was falling apart. "Crying won't make you any less of a person, it makes you human. You need not be brave for any one of them, not one truly understands how you feel." He tries to hug her, but she still flinches.
Her mother looks furious, talking animatedly to the women who had been gossiping. She meets them at the wagon. Her sisters who are still talking to friends, wave and rush over in their long dresses and done-up hair. Sunday best, carefree and beautiful as they always were. Walter and Shirley who was speaking with Carl and Una Meredith and other friends leave with a promise to meet in Rainbow Valley later.
Only Jem doesn't come home, he's spending his Sunday with Faith of course.
Her mother helps her change out of her Sunday dress putting it aside so they can soak it in the wash tub after being ill. She ends up in her summer nightdress and robe with her mother brushing through her hair. Her cheeks are pale and her eyes are haunted and red in the mirror before her. She doesn't want to look at herself but has no choice too.
They watch her push her lunch of cold chicken and salad around her plate and her father frowning until the telephone rings for him. He kisses the top of her head passing by her to collect his things.
"I shouldn't be long," he says to them, before kissing Mother goodbye.
Someone knocks on the door in the middle of the afternoon and Rilla looks to her mother. Callers have been non-existent since that night, so she curls into her blanket on the chaise, despite the heat as Mother speaks to whoever comes by.
"I just wanted to make sure that Rilla is all right?" It was Mrs. Meredith. "Bruce picked her some flowers, he was hoping that he could cheer her up. Being ill can be so dull at times?"
"Let me see if she is up for a visitor?" Her mothers say. "The flowers are very sweet of you Bruce."
"Momma said that Rilla was feeling blue from her tumble, I thought the flowers would help her feel better?" She hears Bruce.
A tumble?
Is that the story that the children are being told? That she fell? Rilla pulls herself from her spot, shocking her mother who was about to ask, but Little Bruce doesn't wait.
"Momma says you took a tumble and were hurt, so I picked you these for you," Bruce announces holding out his hand of flowers.
Rilla smiles weakly and takes them from him gently.
"Thank you Bruce they are lovely," she says as she sees him stare, she looks up at Mrs. Meredith, who appears to be slightly shocked, and then she realizes she has her hair in a braid and away from her face. The cut on her forehead and the healing bruise that was no longer covered in powder on her face.
"You must have a bad fall to look like that, sometimes I fall when I'm not paying attention Papa says it happens to everyone," Bruce chatters on.
"Come along Bruce, " Mrs. Meredith says tugging at his hand. "We should let Rilla rest."
"You can stay," Rilla says quietly. "We can play some checkers?"
"Of course," Mrs. Meredith says. "Just for a little while Bruce," she says to her son next. So while her mother and Mrs. Meredith sit across the hall in the sunroom with their tea Rilla sits on the floor with the young boy
"She looks like a ghost Anne," She hears the whisper. "Naturally so of course, but…she is so young how does she even comprehend?"
"We tried to explain with delicate honesty. She's so quiet about it until she breaks down. She crawled into bed with us the other night."
"When will you know?" Another hushed question.
"Soon hopefully? I pray that nothing will come from it, that state of life is never easy, nor is labour. I do not wish for her to go through that."
"What will you do if it does?" Rosemary whispers again. "I barely understood what was going on and I was much—much older than her!"
"Gilbert says the choice will be hers, this isn't some mistake or a lapse of judgment. There is no point in punishment for such a thing. Of course, she may very well take the easy road and want to give it up. If it does come to that, I hope that we can find a nice family for it. I never want to think of a family member growing up in an asylum."
"Well, I am sure John would help if needed, to find a family?" Rosemary tells her mother.
Give up a child? Babies came from marriage…that can only happen between married people. Isn't that what mother told her? But she wasn't married? Does that mean that it was more of a white lie because it was the proper way of doing things? Rilla could scarcely imagine anyone wanting 'That' time and time again for the sake of a child. Her mother made it sound romantic….and loving and it was anything but.
She finds her mind whirling and her chest heaving for breath. It's enough to scare Bruce who calls out for help. Her mother comes straight away, and her sisters come to look from the staircase.
Rosemary takes Bruce by the hand and leads him out with a nod of her head.
She doesn't leave the sanctuary of Ingleside for days after that, and her sisters are even awkward around her. It's a strange mix of anxiety when they see her most days which confuses her for days. So she hides out on the veranda, her book lying in her lap. She had given up on reading, especially as she heard the voices of her siblings filter through the open window of the room they were in above her. The garret most likely?
"She's a baby, I just keep thinking about it. Whenever she gets that look of horror in her eyes when Dad has to calm her down…I just keep thinking that it could have been one of us, we were supposed to be watching her." She hears Di, which makes her scoff lightly. She was not a baby, she couldn't be now given everything? She knew too much of how cruel the world could be now. Really they ought to know she can hear everything they are talking about.
"We were Di, but how were we supposed to know that the news would break as it did? She was safe and sound with you Ken or was she until you got distracted by the talk of war?"
"Hey! Don't blame this on me, I was being friendly but I was not your get-out-of-baby-sitting card for your sister." Ken cuts in rather loudly. "I don't expect any of my friends to watch my sister all night when she came out with me to parties, since that is my job as her brother. I would have thought as Spider's older sisters you would care a bit more. When we got back to Ingleside and found her missing, you were all blaming each other and trying to come up with an excuse for your mother. "
Spider…still a spider.
"So you have no guilt at all?" Nan asks pointedly.
"Of course, I feel guilty! If I just paid more attention and not let her go off with whoever she danced with I wouldn't have been running around with a bummed-out ankle shouting out her name, you didn't see her when we found her. I will never get that image out of my head, but you are her sisters and brothers and you just didn't even bother to look for her before leaving!."
"It could have been anyone's sister," Walter says speaking up. "All we can do is show her that we are here for her."
Be there for her?
As they talk about her in another room?
"There you are," Susan says coming with a tray filled with little things and tea.
"I'm not hungry," Rilla tells her.
"Fiddlesticks, you barely ate breakfast," Susan says. "You need something in your belly."
Rilla sighs and takes a sandwich she doesn't plan on eating. Susan gives her a look until she nibbles on it as her mother and father come out and sit down in the shade of the warm afternoon.
She pulls at her shawl that sits on her shoulders as they watch her, silently trying to debate whether to say something or not until Father speaks up.
"What happened should have never happened," Her father tells her taking his tea from Mother. Clearly, they feel as if she needs another reminder or affirmation that she has done nothing wrong.
"That isn't love, that is greed." Her mother adds.
"Will I have a baby?" Is the only thing she can ask for the first time and her mother gasps her hand to her heart as she looks at her last baby.
"We don't know, we won't know until you bleed or not," Her father says quietly.
"Bleed." She whispers to herself. How many times has she cursed her cycle, how it got in the way of life and ruin her petticoats and sheets? Now she was praying for it? Truly Was the only thing worse than getting it was not getting it?
"Rilla please know, that something taken with greed is not the same as something given out of love." Her mother tries to tell her, she can't think about it. She can't face the memories of her cries and screams. She shuts it all down, at least in the sanctuary of her room she can cry it out without people around.
"If I am?"
"The choices of what you wish to do will be yours," her father speaks out.
"Is there way too…" Rilla asks not knowing the words she is looking for. "Can one ask not to be…"
Her father shakes his head sorrowfully.
To keep a child born out of such horror seems like an impossible feat, she didn't even like children. She wasn't even married, but to place a child, to give up a child seems just as impossible. To watch it from afar feels more like a punishment than the actual punishment of bearing a child that no one asked for or wanted.
She gets up from her spot.
Mother tries to stop her, but Father beckons her to let her go.
She already has tears pouring down her face as she shuts her bedroom door. She lets an angry wrangled cry as she flops down on her bed.
People come to her door as she screams, but no one comes in. This means her siblings were still too afraid to admit to their guilt of the part they played without meaning to. She cries and screams until she has no voice and her father is trying to get her to drink a cup of tea. She doesn't want it, she doesn't want any of it, but he makes her drink it anyway with its familiar queer taste, that makes her eyelids heavy as she cries in his arms as he strokes her back and her braid lovingly.