My Victorian Valentine #dreamewritingacademy

Harsh Realities

CHAPTER 1: Sixteen

As a young lady Annabelle Hellson was ignorant of the harsh realities that facilitate young adult-hood, such as; surviving, providing, breathing, eating, sleeping and furthermore evading death himself. I know, “She was such a young girl how could she have ever manage all the harshness of life?” Well, it was no easy task I’ll tell you that much, let’s just start with Dwight Conrad the Earl of Steinberg. Words- the shattering pieces to her heart lingering across her sore body from the harsh terrain, Annabelle couldn’t help but remember what her blood father had spoken to her. The heartless, cold nature he chose to speak to her, the words he had intricately chosen in general. Those so very crushing words dictated by her father—resounded so bitterly throughout the entire sanctuary of her thoughts. Never again shall Annabelle be the same, she is and always will be forever changed; encountering her very first trial- tribulation and betrayal.

“Annabelle, you are now sixteen years of age. You are, of an age of maturity entering into womanhood, it is now time for you to leave my home. You have not shown any sign of effort in helping with payments of any sort towards the property taxes: you are nearly worthless in value you have no ambition to launch forward with any job position or even marriage to a man of status and wealth. Although, since you are a woman there is nothing that can be valued in you. There have been no callers—no man that has bestowed an eye on you and I believe there may not ever be. As you know this farm house and fields are dying out and becoming nothing, with the loans and unpaid payments I am afraid I can no longer house you or most of the servants I have acquired for you. Now don’t go into a state of self-pity or sadness it is what it is and there is nothing more you can say or do that can sway my minds decision it is time for you to become your own adult—your own support. I Love You but, you have to leave now goodbye Annabelle.” Joseph Hellson spoke so coldly to Annabelle. “Father are you denying me kinship between a father and a daughter? Are you telling me I am more protected outside in this violet world, alone with no knowledge of the world than in the farm house here with you? Please tell me you are just Jesting father! Please don’t send me out in this world without any help or protections, FATHER I WILL DIE!!! Please daddy don’t throw me away.” Annabelle, shrieked in a sad attempt to convince her father to keep her just for a little while longer. “Annabelle, you are sixteen, I am sure someone will come take pity on you and house you, maybe even send you to school maybe even a servant’s job so you can support yourself.” Joseph Hellson retorted with such a swift coldness, Annabelle could see her father’s decision was already carved in stone-contorted into his mind’s eye. “How can you be so, soulless, cold and detached from me, your daughter that you raised since I was a newborn infant? I don't understand father what have I done? But for you to insult me! With false hopes! Severe even Dangerous employment tells me there is no more love between you and I. Unfortunately, now father, I have no suitor to even protect me, if I end up dead tomorrow would you feel badly of your decision? No I suppose you won’t, my own blood- forsakes me rejects me, before I reach eighteen—may I treat my children with respect honesty and Love.” Unable to stop to watch her father as he began spewing venom throughout his pores-exiting out the hateful look in his eyes. Joseph began to make his rebuttal but Annabelle had already muted the tones of his cold voice and started walking away from her once childhood sanctuary into the unknown world of Steinberg Romania.

As Annabelle was sorely evicted she had no time to collect anything, all she possessed was a tattered bland grey chemise with a scarcely held together skirt. Poor girl had no shoes to protect her delicate feet. Making her frost bitten walk towards homelessness, Annabelle began to realize the severity of her situation. Her heart leapt into her throat, her ability to see dimmed down blurring into a mesh of transitioning failure of all senses including the high pitch ringing sealing off her hearing. Anna’s tender heart had been shattering every step from her home rather, her father’s house. This was just the pieces of her heart and spirit falling into the bottom of her soul, what was she to do? The only thing she could do, beg in front of Seaman's Tavern in hope’s a drunken old man would take pity—drop some change into her small cup or even some food. For several long lived hours of begging and relying on pity—the drunkards looked at Annabelle with an eruption of lust lingering just beneath their soulless eyes. Those same drunks leaned in close to her, taking in Annabelle’s innocent scent revoking her of her essence. Speaking lies of hope—reaching out and forcefully attempting to violate her innocence—forcing their will but not a single drunk felt pity enough to drop change or food. Trying to avoid another drunks attempt on touching her, Annabelle dove behind the Seamen's Tavern leaping against the darkened wall. Annabelle’s whole being stood on edge as each drunken man stumbled further and further away, clearly this was no place for a young (girl) woman.

Annabelle must admit, she wasn’t the brightest little twit, nonetheless she was determined to survive. As the final drunkard retreated from Seaman's Tavern Anna released a sigh of relief a little too soon, as a slight but evident presence sideswiped her right shoulder. Startled by the brief encounter, Anna froze --instantly in place. A light breath overflowed on to the back of her neck. The foreign breathing became cooler more defined, more distinct, inhale, warmer, exhale, going in sync with breathing—not that of Annabelle but that of another. Shivers spewing under the chills sent-- echoing vibrations down her spine and through her bones. Whatever this was, Annabelle knew the pure black aura surrounding this stranger meant tragedy without a doubt, would pursue her.

‘Great! Now what have I done to myself! I should be in a bed sleeping somewhere but NO! Instead I took myself to the most dangerous place in town, Seaman's Tavern! How could I be so INSANELY STUPID! Whatever, it won’t matter anyway the damage has already been done!' Annabelle silently screamed using great effort to restrain the tears building.’ Don’t be a coward Annabelle Rose! Don't you dare cry, don’t you BLOODY do it! DADGUM IT! Annabelle Rose!’

Not wanting to acknowledge the danger standing behind her, her mind began racing at the possibilities

‘is it a mugger? Does it matter if it’s a mugger! Uh, No! What does he want! Why can't I run (her built up tears began to slowly stain her cheeks) I’m a young girl with no strength whom is sixteen, whatever man is behind me I’m sure he’ll out rank me. Just face it and LET IT BE DONE! Nothing good could come from this......’

Reluctantly, she slowly turned to face her doom, to her confusion instead of death; it was an illusion of tranquility she felt. DWight Conrad was Annabelle’s first encounter with the brutal and malicious town’s men of Steinberg. DWight was of the age twenty-six, even in his young age cruelty and torture dwelled within his being. Pure evil aide’s him in portraying a gentleman skillfully, hiding his ill intentions flawlessly. Dwight’s six foot ‘three shadow with wind whipped dirty blonde locks clashing into his blazing blue eyes, created a beautiful illusion of a gentleman. GOD! DWight was every young girls ‘Victorian Valentine’. At the present, those blazing blue eyes were fixated upon Annabelle, in her innocence he would betray her, ‘what does it matter it’s not like this man would hold an interest in me, I’m a homeless beggar’ how wrong she was. The deceptive man took an uncharted interest in Anna, a demented s*x fiend interest with the wrath of ‘Dracula’, flanking his will to be done.