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Blood spattered on to the cold stone wall. She could feel where she had been hit; it was numb. Gently, she placed her index and middle fingers on to the corners of her lip to assess the amount of blood that was dripping. She gasped at the pain that occurred during the contact and pulled her fingers away in one swift motion. She realized quickly that she had made a noise and her muscles tensed automatically, waiting for the next pain.



“You insolent brat! What the hell did you do this time?” he mother shrieked. She held out her whip and turned away from her to face the door. “Why the f*** did you have to be my child? Why couldn’t I have had a son?” she said, a look of disgust cast upon her face as she turned back around to face her child who was squatting on the floor, her face and arms tucked. Oh how desperately she wanted to hurt her, but if she did her family would be suspicious. “If your father was still alive things would be much different,” she explained, “but he’s not here is he, Grace.” She rubbed her finger under her chin gently. “Grace. That’s what your father wanted you to be named. And because I loved your father, that’s what I named you. Personally, I think Ebony Adriana would have suited you better, much better.” She stretched her whip out and pulled in over her back.



Just before it hit her, her eyes flashed open and she drew in a powerful breath of summer air. The forest overwhelmed her and as she was standing up she stumbled backward on to the tree she was napping upon just a few moments ago. She couldn’t remember where she was, her nightmare still consuming most of her. She drew in another breath; it burned in her chest. A cough escaped her delicate lips, the nightmare leaving as well.



She placed her hand upon her forehead. She thought she had forgotten those terrible days locked up in the highest tower of her old stone home. “But maybe,” she thought, “Maybe I had just suppressed them. And all of that made sense to her as she pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs into a tight ball.



Her mind kept creeping on to that memory, that one single memory. She parted her lips and sucked in hard breaths again. They were hurt her throat and chest, but were somehow comforting. Even if she demised her past she found comfort in it. She found comfort in actually having someone there, even if they didn’t love her. At least in her horrid memories she wasn’t alone. And without realizing it she felt the sharp breaths coming in faster and faster. She needed a quick fix, something that could get her on her feet and fast. She sorted through her mind thinking of everything that could make her at least partially happy. She threw out every option until she reached her father.



She could only vaguely remember him and what she could remember was extremely foggy. It must have been when she was small, only a baby. She could remember that he loved her very much and he kept her away from her evil mother. He knew about what she did to her other siblings and had great scorn for her, though he could not leave her due to extenuating circumstances.



She tucked her knees into her chest and clenched her fists into a ball so tight that she could feel sweat beads pooling. She searched her mind for happy thoughts to no avail. Each time she thought she had one the memories of her past crept up and pushed them away. In an effort to stop these memories she clenched her hands together even tighter and counted silently to herself. But this didn’t work.



Suddenly her legs burst from her tight ball. The summer heat and her body heat finally getting to. She stretched her arms out, memories still pooling in her mind. She opened her eyes slowly, fully observing the world around her for the first time.



Just below the hill she was on she saw a shallow stream. She slowly walked over to it and leaned her hand in slowly. The water wasn’t by any means warm, but it wasn’t freezing either. She then put her foot in, yanking it back quickly. “Nope, she sighed, “not going in there.”



Fortunately the steam was only about half a foot wide and she could easily step over it. Once over it she looked over her shoulder to where she had been sleeping and kept moving. She could take no risk in her family finding her. She couldn’t risk those memories becoming a reality again. And that is how she found her way of blocking them.



o0o



She didn’t know how long or for how long she had been walking. She stared down at the ground, somehow wandering back into deep in thought, oblivious to the thinning trees. All in a few seconds she hit her head on something hard but slightly padded and feel to the ground, shaking her from her day dreams.



Her vision was a bit foggy, but she could make out what looked like a person sticking their arm out to help her up. Instinctively she crawled away, past experiences guiding her.



“Ma’am please let me help you up and back to town,” a male’s voice said.



She backed in to a tree and rubbed her eyes hard. He was tall and handsome. He hand long, wavy, blonde hair and blue eyes, sapphire blue eyes. She stared into them breathlessly.



Again he stretched out his hand for her, but again she did not take it.



“Please ma’am, take my hand. Don’t make me carry you,” he pleaded.



She smiled, but did not take his hand. “Fine,” he said.



He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up, then reached an arm under her legs and carried her bridal style. “For such a little lady you are very heavy,” he said. She gave him an angry look. “Did I say something wrong?” he inquired. She nodded her head. “You don’t like to talk much do you? What’s your name?” he asked as he headed for the path that lead back to town.



She whispered one word, “Grace.”



“Grace, hmm, I guess that’s a nice name. I don’t know many Graces. My name is Aland of Oakland,” he said smiling.



They approached the village. People walked around carrying wooden instruments and food. “Welcome to Oakland,” he said.