Listening Snow

IV

She could tick off the reasons on her fingers and may never stop till after a time. So to him our herself, Alice began counting.

One: His handsome physique was a product of being constantly under the knife. It never mattered Webber’s she suffered as a result of his cruel jabs driving home the point that she was ugly and fat. So much so that she wore oversized clothes to hide her size twelve body.

Two: that lovely dark hair he so bragged about was dyed every now and then and had extensions strategically inserted within to conceal his thinning hair. Yes it still didn’t matter one but when he called her full-to-a-riotous-bunch red curls dead and likened her waist length tresses to a mop. So much that she wore head covers constantly to keep her hair hidden.

Three: That s****l prowess he so loved to brag unabashedly about was a product of over the counter or bought-online aphrodisiacs because it was either too shabby to be noted or outright non-existent. Once again it didn’t matter that he had received her twenty-four year old virginity with so much disgust and scorn; and had her calling to apologize for being a virgin and foisting it upon him countlessly before the last day he had invited her over – thankfully – to make up. Only to have friends calling days later to inquire how low she could sink to have a s*x take of hers online.

She had died then and even more when having gone to confront him had found him in an orgy and he had gone further to play the video there and had made public fun of her, her body and all that she was.

She never resurrected from that death even after a self-imposed three years exile to the countryside.

His taunting smile and remarks still kept her eyes red-rimmed and her heart and soul very broken.

Four: The ancestral fortune he broadcasted without any editorial service was simply her own inheritance from a lavishly rich great-grand Comtess aunt. Oh yes, it still don’t matter that he rendered her penniless. Thank goodness she hadn’t let go of the paper is the castle lands as well.

Five: The height he seemed to flaunt was determined largely by the block heels his customized shoes housed. Invariably it still didn’t matter that at six feet two inches he had made her feel much less than the flattest thing ever.

Six…..

It’s no use counting, she scolded herself.

She rose from her seat, schooling herself on the demerits of August-gathering, mounted her bicycle and began pedaling back home.

The roads at this time here were majorly free, so she pedaled without her mind to it. Only that her mind was heavy with the thoughts of one man in another continent cavorting and carousing no end, doubtlessly with her money, his dark heart and a fake personality.

So feel was she in thoughts that she that she do not hear or see the oncoming truck zipping down on high speed, lights all glaring, confident that the road at this time would be free.

By the time she glanced up and into the bright headlights unprepared, she gasped out loud, lost her grip and hold on the bicycle; and with a sharp swerve, ran into a Boulder and was launched into the air.

Not a struggle, not a scream.

Good thinking there handing the castle papers to her third cousin, Grant before retiring herself to her self-imposed exile. Otherwise it would be sitting ducks for those with sticky minds and fingers like August.

Through the cool predawn air she knifed until gravity drove her to the muddy bottom of the lake. Conveniently, her life as she regrettably knew it, started flashing horribly before her eyes. Until her skull collided with the sharp edge of a boulder and the light that had suddenly appeared in her emerald eyes began to smolder, then die.

Or so she thought as her kids drifted shut from the burn of the headlights. She could see the lights’ reflection in all their strength. But then it became just a shimmer of light over there floating over the water surface. A small silvery patch.

Recalling how fishes moved under water, she began to move, kicking, pumping until she reached the surface and broke right through with a loud splash and gasp. Thinking to dissuade the truck driver from taking her to a hospital or seemingly caring at that.

Mayhap she could school him and set him straight. He had no right running the roads in that hurried, light-blaring speed. Even if it were still dark and all, people still plied the road!

She sure was going to give him such an earful that for days his ears would still thrum from the reeling effect.

Determined, Alice flicked water from her face confident she was looking positively peeved.

That was until she felt for her mobcap and froze. Nothing. Just clogs and clogs of sodden hair.

She blinked hard.

Her eyes opened to focus on the man deep halfway down to his chest in the water. He was staring at her in a rather odd manner.

Wait a minute. He’s a p*****t. He cleared me off the road, she told herself angrily, and now he’s ogling me. I’ll show him. I’ll set him right.

She swam to the closest edge and climbed out of the bath, all the while aware the man stood rooted watching, no glaring at her. Hands akimbo, chin jutting, hair clinging to her and head covered in wet clogs, eyes blazing emerald fire, Alice Wendy Alistair faced down her assailant.