A Story Untold

“With that, the girl ran, knowing her one true love was alive. Just a glimmer of hope, a feeling in her heart. She knew, he was alive and breathing. She ran to the war zone, to the broken trees of the great fight. She heard the yells, but did not care. She did not want to marry the prince, she wanted to be with her one true love. No matter what. With him she felt alive, felt needed, felt loved even. Never had she felt these things until she meant him. There, holding his side stood a man. She look around trying to find her love. Her eyes blurry with the water, as her heart began to tear. She fought back the sobs, until she heard the familiar voice, ‘Lillian’ It called. The waterfall ran on her face, ‘Lillian, love, I’m here,’ It called out again. She looked over at the man, to see him staring back, with those purple eyes, those bright purple eyes. ‘Damien?’ She questioned, not believing her eyes. ‘Lily, shh my dear, I’m here, I’m okay.” The man came to her, and rested his rough hand on her soft cheek, and with the other pushing the fallen hair behind her ears, while wiping the fallen tears. With that she came to realize, her love was there, alive. She wrapped her arms around his waist, crying into his chest. He stroked her head, whispering loving things in her ear.”     “Mama?” I looked at my little girl in bed.     “Yes, my little star?”      “Why do you always say the ending of the story, I wanna know the beginning, how did the two meet? How did they fall in love? Why doesn’t she want to be with the prince?” My little girl rushed out, as I chuckled at her behavior. I notice my little boy crawl up in bed too.     “You never even told me the beginning mama, can we know?  Please, I’m ten, and Laveaha is eight. I think we are old enough please.” He drew out those pleases, and I heard the chuckles coming from my husband. I turned to face him, as he came, sat on the bed with me, and kissed my cheek.      “Alright, I guess mama can tell you the story, but know, it’s not a normal fairytale, it has death, love, lost.” My kids nodded excitedly. I sighed, thinking about the story.       “Darling’s it's not just those things, the girl in the story suffers from many things.” I told them, more like a warning. Making sure they understood.     “Mama, we can handle it,” my boy gave me a thumbs up, a huge grin to go with it. So big, it caused his eyes to shut. I ruffled my little boy’s hair.   “Well, let’s start from the beginning shall we?” With that I started the story, that I knew so well.         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~     I looked out the window, out at the free little birds. Oh, to be free, to fly, to feel the wind as you soar, oh how I wish to be a bird, to have no worries, to be free. Not locked inside. The little yellow bird landed on my window sill. It picked up the little seeds I had laid out for it, with its beak slowly inching closer, tell it faced me. I didn’t move, not wanting to startle the little thing. The little bird chirped, and tilted its head. I tilted mine, and straighten its head, gave a flap, and chirped again. Though it did not fly away. I lifted my head and gave a little laugh.      “Lillian!” The booming voice startled the little bird, causing it to fly away, I reached my hand out, hoping something would take hold and get me out. Sadly, the wish was not granted. The slamming of the door caused me to turn my head. I looked at the fuming woman.      “Lillian, you better get your ass down, now, and make me breakfast. Your father and I are starving. Hurry you stupid girl!” The woman, know as my mother, screeched. I lowered my head.      “Yes mother,” As I walked down. I kept my head down, since the day I could talk, I was taught to be the ‘perfect’ slave. Rules were driven in my skull, from keeping my head down, to only speak when spoken to, or given permission. I heard my mother scoff.     “Should of let the wolves have a feast,” Than throw yourself at them, I thought in my head, but dare not say-unless I wanted a death wish-as I reached the kitchen, I started a fire in the stove oven, blowing water, with crumbled leaves, little bit of mint, some honey, and the petals of a marigold. I knew they would want some tea. Than, cracked the eggs, from the chicken coop. ‘Only the freshest for my loving parents.’ I chuckled silently at the thought. Quickly  I looked around making sure they didn’t hear. With confirmation no one heard the chuckle, I started cooking the eggs, and after the water was done blowing, I removed the bucket, and poured some glasses. Lastly, cooked some meat from the cows my father had killed. After the table was set, food was done, I rang the bell to signal my parents. They came down and sat. I made a plate for myself, and went to my room. They did not allow for me to eat at the table, saying, ‘Ungrateful brats do not deserve to eat at the table’ All I have heard since I was little. By now I was used to the names they called me, the names they spat towards me. Sometimes they would spray it, and say it. For a while I had forgotten my real name, I was used to the horrid names they gave me, “b***h, Slut, w***e, Tramp, Brat,” That was just to name a few. I can’t remember one good thing my parents have done.     As I ate my food, I looked out the window, seeing a pair of birds, fly together, when I saw this, I always thought the two birds were in love, and flying together was there way of dancing. Oh, how I dreamed of falling in love, but sadly, I knew that would never happen. Love was not an option, I had two choices in my life, to be stuck serving my parents, or be put in an arranged marriage. To which, serving my parents would be the best option, for I knew, whoever my parents chose for me to marry, would be worse than them. I know the town has heard of me, and men craved to have a touch. To have a glimpsed. I’m shocked that I haven’t been sold off yet. Men have came to my parents, but they haven’t given me away. I was a little treasure for my green eyes were a rare gem. I was known has untouched, and the perfect bride, from my obiendece, to my silence.     With that, I got up, went back down to clean my plate, than the rest of the dishes, After getting the dishes clean, I cleaned off the table. As I turned to start my next set of chores, I fell to the ground, the side of my face burning.     “You little w***e, should of started on your chores sooner, hurry up I have a guest coming over. The house better be clean.” I felt the spit fly onto my face, as I looked at the ground nodding my head.     “Yes, sir.” No emotion leaked through, I learned to never show emotion around my father. . . You only get hurt. I heard a grunt come from him, and his heavy footsteps, as he walked away. I slowly got up, and started my chores. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~     “Mama?” I looked down at my little star, while telling the story she crawled into my lap.     “Yes baby?”     “Why are her parents so mean to her?” I leaned back into my husband, closing my eyes.     “Her parents never wanted a child sweetie, so instead of treating her normal, they treated her like a slave. That’s what she was to them, and the life she grew up with. That's all she has ever known, no one dared to show the girl an ounce of kindness. Her parents were well respected people, and all knew of the parents way. But all those people really cared about is money, and who would marry the girl. She was heard from all over, for her pureness.”     “Mama?” I looked over at my handsome baby boy.     “Yes?”     “You guys wanted us right?” He asked. I looked at my husband, back at my baby boy and smiled.     “You were a blessing from above.” They both gave me a charming smile, and my husband had placed a kiss on my neck. Agreeing with me. I loved my babies, and would do anything for them.