Diamonds Fall

by Rebecca Gibson

  His laughter echoed around the forest. Annabel looked around frantically for an escape, knowing it was futile. The man laughed further as she struggled. Yanking her into a seated position he poured water on her face. Annabel coughed, desperately trying to suck the sustenance into her mouth. She only managed a few drops. Laughing again, he threw her back to the ground.

  "I'll watch `er. You sleep," the elder of the two men said in a gruff voice from a few feet away. The silhouetted frame nodded slightly and retreated back to the fire. The hunched shadow of the elder man came quickly into view and Annabel moved back.

  "Was'a matter princess?" he crooned. He ran a finger lightly down her neck. His grip tightened around her enormous necklace. The movement was so fast she jumped, drawing in a hurried breath. The man tugged and Annabel yelped, her head jerking forward. The craftsmanship of the piece was too good to be broken. With an almost animalistic growl he forced her face to the ground and undid the necklace. The gems clicked against each other as he pocketed it.

  Annabel shrank away the second he relinquished his hold on her, hoping beyond anything that the ground itself would take her into its arms and spare her the misery of another touch from this man. As if noticing Annabel's fear he laughed, a deep scratchy sound that filled her heart with dread.

  "Y-you don't know what you're doing. My father will-"

  "Will wha'?" the man jeered, his face mere inches from hers. Annabel swallowed. The lump of bread was still wedged inside her bone dry throat. Her breath racing past it burnt, making further speech impossible. The man laughed again and patted her cheek in an absurd mockery of kindness. He pushed her to the ground so hard she spluttered in shock. She felt her other splendid jewels being torn from her body.

  "Stay `ere or I'll kill ya," he whispered once the last of her finery had been removed. She was left only in her now torn dress and a single diamond hair comb the darkness had concealed. Perhaps Mother Nature was on her side after all.

  That night was the longest of Annabel's life. Her heart continued to beat at double speed, pounding the blood around her body so she could feel it hammering against her temples. It was as if the organ was getting in as many beats as possible, in case they were her last.

  Annabel's limbs were weak and tired beyond belief, yet her brain refused to sleep. It wasn't until dawn was finally cresting the horizon, both men having inched back further towards the fire, that Annabel's eyes finally drifted closed and she slipped off the edge of consciousness. There, at least, the men couldn't hurt her.

  Chapter Three

  The minutes grew into hours, the hours into days, until they blurred into one continuous nightmare. Every night they threw Annabel down, forcing stale bread into her unwilling mouth and filling her with water so quickly it made her choke. The brief spells of unconsciousness were her one relief. The sound of the river running beside them was the only constant Annabel could find. Her heightened sense of hearing clung to the noise desperately, convinced that should the sound cease to exist then so, in turn, should she.

  Panicked, Annabel awoke one morning to silence. The gentle trickle of the stream had vanished. She was lying flat on a cold surface, the strong stench of urine filling her nostrils. With a scream, her eyes flew open.

  Annabel tried to sit up but a hand pushed her back down to the floor. Pain shot through every muscle like fire. She screamed and kicked out her legs despite the hurt, noticing within seconds they were no longer bound. A strong, warm hand covered her mouth. At this she went limp. She knew where this was going so she resigned herself to it, tears sliding silently into her hair. Several seconds went by but still nothing happened.

  "Shh...can't wake `em," a voice next to her kept muttering over and over again. The hand moved from her mouth and began stroking her hair rhythmically away from her face. Glancing around, Annabel noticed she was lying on the grimy floor of a stable. Two surprisingly clean plough horses stood in the corner, crunching on a pile of fresh hay. Thick cobwebs spanned the length of the ceiling, swaying in a slight breeze whilst dust floated in a thin beam of light coming from a window mostly hidden up in the rafters. A rickety ladder, tied together with frayed string, rested on the edge of a second floor - a loft of sorts. Directly opposite her stood a muddy stable door, the imprints of large horse shoes had splintered the wood.

  Annabel curled into a tight ball. She was still wearing the same dress she had left the manor in an immeasurable amount of days before, although it was soiled and torn beyond recognition. Adding to her gruesome appearance, dried blood covered both her clothes and skin.

  "Okay, okay. Billy here," she heard beside her ear. It sounded like the voice of a child - innocent and reassuring. She reached up to the hand stroking her hair, tears now coming thick and fast from her eyes as sobs racked her body from head to toe.

  "Okay, okay," the voice repeated over and over again.

  Annabel drifted in and out of consciousness that day, drinking water that Billy held up to her expectant lips. She didn't eat anything and she didn't speak. She just lay there, her eyes squeezed shut as if by pretending this was all a bad dream, she would eventually wake up on the morning of her eighteenth birthday, when her life was supposed to have begun.

  The gentle noises of the horses always brought her back to her harsh reality.

  As dawn peeked its way back through a high, filthy window, Annabel opened her eyes and turned to look at Billy for the first time. What she saw made her gasp.

  The person stroking her hair was an adult, probably even older than herself, although it was impossible to tell by how much. His eyes were fixed in a vacant expression she had only ever seen on the children from the asylum.

  Billy was plump, whilst still having the appearance of being grossly underfed. He had a round, pink face and white blonde hair that looked as though it had been cut with a blunt knife. His eyes were small but a beautiful shade of hazel that glittered as they fixed on Annabel's.

  None of the opinions regarding these people were favourable in her society. Yet Billy had been the one helping her. He was probably the reason she was still something close to alive. He had been kind when there was no need for him to be, something that bemused Annabel completely. She gripped Billy's hand tightly whilst he continued to pat her head. Her heart ached with fondness for his unwarranted compassion.

  "You like horses?" he asked after a while, shattering the heavy silence. His voice was deep but playful.

  Annabel nodded. Billy stood up, walking over to a chestnut horse with a white star between its eyes.

  "This Troy."

  He caressed the horse's nose, muttering into its ear. Troy nuzzled back into his hand as if he understood. Billy walked over to the other horse, a palomino with massive hair covered hooves.

  "This Buck."

  Annabel's heart sank as she recognised the horse. It was the very horse that had brought her here. The very horse upon which she had shed a countless amount of tears, had suffered countless amounts of abuse. This could only mean one thing...they had made it to the village.

  For Billy's sake, she smiled. It was a tight smile, an expression that felt wrong on her usually scornful face. Her eyes were the only part that gave away her fear. Oblivious, Billy continued to pet the horses with obvious attachment. Whilst he was grubby and un-kept, the horses literally shone. He tended to them with such affection it made Annabel's racing heart bleed. She hoped the stable boys at the manor had half the skill this man possessed.

  As they sat in the gloom, Annabel's fear rising with every inhalation of her breath, the stable door creaked open. Her eyes widened whilst Billy leapt to his feet with surprising agility and shrank into the corner closest to the horses.

  Through a thin gap a young woman squeezed inside. She was short in stature and like Billy, appeared under-fed. However, as Annabel's eyes ran over the length of her frame she saw a grotesquely round abdomen protruding from her emaciated frame. She seemed frightened and upon noticing Annabel's gaze, dropped a small handful of something
on the floor before leaving as fast as her pregnancy would allow her.

  Annabel's eyes remained wide, her breathing once more on the verge of panic. Seeing the young woman, so close in age to Annabel, scared her more than anything else she had seen thus far.

  Was this to be her new future?

  "I can't - I can't," she muttered almost inaudibly.

  Billy crept back over to her from his refuge, holding out what looked to be a small roll of stale bread. Annabel ignored him, still locked in fear.

  "I can't - can't stay here. This isn't me. I cannot stay here!"

  Her voice exploded from her unexpectedly. A rich fire had begun to burn once more in her gut.

  "Shh it's -"

  "Do not dare to tell me it is okay! It is far from okay!"

  Billy shrank back into the wall, his instinctual response to raised voices. The fear on his face instilled a tender feeling in Annabel's heart that was mixed with a nagging sort of pain - compassion and guilt. The new feelings brought on a new round of anger as she tried to suppress them.

  "Don't look at me like that! I don't belong here, I have to leave!"

  She stood, watching Billy as his large frame trembled ever so slightly, with a downcast expression on his face. Instinct told her to go to him yet the fire in her belly told her to run - to get out of this village whilst she still had the courage.

  "I'm sorry. Thank you for everything," she whispered as she turned on her heel, leaving him sitting there on the floor, confusion evident on his features.

  Annabel walked quickly towards the door and thoughtlessly swung it open. The cool air slapped her across the face, greeting her with its fresh open arms as it blew the rags of her expensive gown around her battered body.

  Annabel stepped outside.

  From the moment her foot landed on the dirt of what appeared to be a thin alleyway, the hair on her neck stood on end.

  She was being watched.

  She felt eyes piercing through her skin yet, look as she might, she couldn't locate their gleam. Annabel had always loved being watched. The thrill of someone's gaze upon her form had entranced her since childhood and had made her senses exceptionally sharp. This feeling was different.

  This feeling was sinister.

  She felt almost as if the eyes were willing her back inside her prison, warning her of a consequence she did not yet know. However Annabel, in her high society arrogance, chose to ignore their warning and took another step. Her pace increased as her confidence grew, until she could see the light of an open space just beyond the alley.

  A door slammed.

  So locked in her own thoughts and panic Annabel jumped, a small screech leaping out of her lungs before she could clamp a slender hand to her mouth.

  Footsteps could be heard growing closer to where Annabel foolishly stood in the open. She pressed herself against the wall but there was nowhere for her to hide, she stuck out like a sore thumb. The smell of her alone would have given her away.

  An elderly woman, with hair the colour and texture of straw, rounded the corner, fixing her eyes upon Annabel immediately. She didn't speak, she simply glared. The slow pace of her stride seemed almost arrogant but somehow all the more terrifying.

  Annabel whipped her head left and right trying to find an escape, but there was nowhere to go. The opposite end of the alley was blocked off by a ruined wall, presumably what had attached the stable to a long fallen house. Someone with more ability than her could have scaled it but she knew she didn't stand a chance.

  As a last ditch resort Annabel drew herself up to her full height and pointed her chin to the air. She looked down her nose at the woman standing directly in front of her, ignoring the vice like grip she now had on Annabel's arm.

  "I implore you to let go of my arm," Annabel stated with as much authority as she could muster. Her voice shook slightly with nerves. "I am the daughter of Lord and Lady Hoddington, you do not wish to harm me."

  The elderly woman simply laughed. Spit flew from her mouth as she did so, landing on Annabel's alabaster skin. The grip on her arm tightened and the woman began walking again, pulling Annabel along behind her.

  "Let me go!" Annabel cried, her authority now lost in panic. The woman possessed much more strength than Annabel would have thought. Her shoulder ached where she dragged her arm at an awkward angle, the socket clicking as it teetered on the edge of dislocation.

  Without thinking Annabel struck out her free hand until it collided with her captors head. Her foot followed, kicking the back of the woman's knees and causing her to fall to the ground with a surprised gasp of pain.

  The woman appeared fragile as she lay sprawled in the dirt, yet Annabel felt no pity. After only a matter of seconds, she started to run.

  Her feet thundered along the ground as she fled. Her breathing deafeningly loud as it rasped from her lungs. The second she stepped out of the alley she collided with another form. Both of them went down, crashing against the ground with a thud. Annabel tried to scramble to her feet but arms were upon her, keeping her on the floor. She tried to glance around, frantically searching for an escape. She remembered the stream above all else, thinking of it as her one safe haven amongst this nightmare, but there was no water in sight.

  "Keep `er down. Hurt her. Make sure she never runs away again. You can take what you like from `er."

  The command was harsh and the arms holding her stiffened as if in fear. They clearly had their own orders to follow and their own consequences should they disobey. Seizing her one brief window of opportunity Annabel made a dive for a close by line of trees. Everything else was just a blur to her.

  "Please. I'm Annabel Hoddingon," she tried as she was grabbed once again. A hand collided with her cheek. Her head whipped back with the force of the slap and she stumbled. Another pair of arms caught her and threw her to the ground again where a third set of hands tore at her rags and skin. Despite their fear, these people were greedy and she was still wearing a fortune.

  "They will find me!" Annabel screamed. "My father - my father will have you killed -"

  The hands only stilled for a brief millisecond at the threat before they continued to remove the remains of her former glory. As the final shred of clothing left her body she became aware of a strong odour of liqueur and sweat. She froze as the other attackers backed away.

  Her feet kicked out with new vigour. Her voice reaching an ear splitting pitch as she screamed, in vain, for help but it was to no avail.

  It was happening again.

  Laughter echoed around the square as pain tore at her every cell. The worse it got, the more the spectators seemed to cheer. It was as if they were watching a sick kind of game.

  More people seemed to gather as word spread around the village. Their voices rose above Annabel's anguished screams as they held aloft her expensive fabric. At some point a foot made contact with her face, whether by accident or purpose she would never know. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and the copper taste of blood filled her mouth.

  "No," she whimpered. "My father will - my father will - he'll find you."

  She managed to choke out the threat between breaths. Tears filled her eyes as the cold wind pimpled her naked body.

  When it was finished there was a final explosion of laughter. As the man rose to his feet he was patted on the back as if he had won first prize in a competition.

  Screams of terror quickly filled Annabel's ears as her original attackers pounced. They pummeled their way through the crowd, taking back Annabel's fabric - the skin of her former life. They seemed to control everyone. The fear was so thick she could taste it.

  Annabel's vision clouded as the crowd dissipated, leaving her bruised, bloodied and humiliated on the cold ground of the village square.

  She could still feel distant eyes upon her but, despite this, she hadn't the energy to continue her escape. It seemed this was her life now and she was unable to flee.

  With this realisation festering within her, echoing around her mind until sh
e felt crazed by the thought, she curled into a tight ball, her hands clawing into the bare dirt beneath her. Her nails broke with a sharp scratch of pain as she tried to find some kind of release for the anger and sorrow tearing her apart. Sobs ripped through her lungs so violently she could barely find the breath to stay alive. Part of her didn't even want to.

  When her body could take no more and pain began to bring her slowly into the comfort of unconsciousness, she felt something light and warm being draped over her - a blanket of some sort she assumed - before she was heaved into the air by a slender yet strong pair of arms. She tensed but didn't have the strength to struggle.

  "Shh."

  His voice was almost musical.

  Annabel took comfort in his warmth, curling up tighter within the thin blanket. A musty smell of clean skin, earth and soap filled her nostrils, only adding to her sense of safety. Wrapped in this foreign comfort, sleep took her under its wing within a matter of seconds.

  Chapter Four

  Annabel only became semiconscious as she was placed on the ground of the stable. Straw was piled up around her in the fashion of a large nest whilst cold water was dabbed across her face, arms and feet, soothing her pain somewhat.

  Hazel eyes swam in front of her blurred vision and when she came too properly - an immeasurable amount of time later - it was to find Billy staring back at her. Once more he was rhythmically stroking her hair, in a gesture that had come to symbolise kindness for her.

  She groaned as pain flooded her body all over. Her lips felt cracked and swollen as she tried to speak, the movement causing a fresh bead of blood to trickle down her chin. Billy immediately wiped it away and smiled at her.

  "You okay," he muttered, placing a tender, fatherly kiss on the top of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut but still a few tears escaped her lids.

  "No - no I'm not," she croaked, her voice too thick with grief to utter more than a whisper.

  "You will be. Promise." Billy whispered back, his eyes full of purity and innocence.