Torrent

…The dagger feels so light in my hands. With nothing remaining of my life to consider within the hole of the vacant space around which it now revolves, the heft of steel means nothing by comparison. Nothing does. It already feels as though I exist in yet another world entirely from myself.

In this decision I feel free, I feel…unladened…

…But it is only a farse…My emotional burdens are still here, not departed, only diluted—numbed only by disassociation.

Perhaps, in the end, t'is in that understanding that I simply cannot do it…or, nay, more that I won't. In the end it would change nothing at all.

I tremble out a slow sigh, the gentle breeze kissing my face as I loosen my grip upon the dagger, and then open my eyes once more…

…To somewhere else entirely.

I draw up my hand and wipe the sleep from my eyes, only to find that I am, once again, within my chamber.

…

I rapidly sit forward in my bed, hair ragged from sleep and falling forward to envelop my face.

Am I truly back in my room?

Is this the same day all over again…?

Even as I start to breathe faster, I find it only ever more impossible to catch my breath. My chest tightens, feeling almost as though my heart might seize, yet ever still, even as my hands instinctually come to clutch at my chemise, I feel a flutter within, growing ever more rapid and pounding with each passing instant.

My god, does this mean it is all happening again?

The dawning realization is like a direct squeeze of my stomach, a hand reaching within to grab hold of it tight and then tie it taught, leaving nowhere for the bile to go but up and burning its way into my throat.

I think I'm going to be sick…

Nausea arrives and brings with it a sensation of great heat and chill fighting for dominion over me. I might consider finding my way directly to the chamber pot under my bed but not for the consuming vertigo that now renders me immobile.

Even as my memory of the day from before fades, I remain possessed by two hells, entirely equal within their depths yet both distinct enough to be their own and yet still similar enough to maintain their placement as the single, equally worst moment of my life.

And I am going to have to go through it all again.

I pull my hair back, drawing it all over my shoulder and rapidly running my trembling fingers down its length, finally letting me watch as the edges and painted walls of my chamber seemingly melt all into a single color residing at the very edge of my perception.

I can't do this again, I can't do this again, I can't do this again, I can't do this again, I can't do this again, I can't do this again, I can't do this again…!

…But no matter how many times I think about it, I yet still find that I cannot breathe within the new reality in which I'm trapped: the one in which I am, once again, to go out and helplessly cling to a lifeless corpse…

Streaks of pins wrack at the length of my arm. My chest hurts now and I no longer feel as though I am suffocating…but being deliberately smothered. I've entirely lost control.

I don't want to see it.

I cannot do it.

I cannot go through it all again.

I will not go through it all again!

I struggle to choke down the vomit climbing my throat. My fingers find my mother's cross around my neck, pulling it taut against the metallic chain.

For what am I here, Lord?!

I get to see him once again but for what reason?? Just to vigil over his broken body once more?!

How many times am I to endure this??!

My chest tightens ever more, racing heart tense as though it may come to burst and I know not what to do for it, feeling as though I might actually die in the worst possible way and it only makes me panic even worse.

Thoughts of Larkin's vacant stare contrast and intermingle inside of me alongside the memories of his loving, blue eyes and the smile that always seems to know just what to say; the one that always finds a way to—

…Free me from my darkest places…

…I lay myself back down, releasing my mother's cross and focusing upon that smile as I draw out my breaths, wiping my eyes of the tears I had not even noticed I was shedding.

He will be here soon—I think to myself. I have to get ready…I cannot leave him at the door.

Slowly…gradually…the walls seem to form back into their places, corners now visible beyond the edges of my bed.

I don't close my eyes, for I fear what the mind may bring me if I do. Instead staring upward into the ceiling and keeping my mind upon my beloved as he should be—as he is now:

Smiling and coming to await my invitation inside.

Slowly, my trembling hands still, knots untangle, and I begin to somewhat feel as though I am myself again…

My body rises back into sitting within the comfort of my bed and I take deep breaths, trying my hardest to recollect myself.

All is well. I am well...

I force the corners of my mouth into the flicker of what might amount to something approaching a smile.

…I am fine...

—

I grow impatient with sitting in front of the mirror as Maud so carefully runs her delicate fingers through my hair, gently taking each section into her hand and then chasing them with the brush. The delay of starting my preparations for the day has only served to leave me anxious. I've already wasted so much time, what use is this if my hair will just end up in a bun and hidden under a hennin anyway?

“Maud, hurry. Larkin will be here any moment.”

But she doesn't relent, her hands, in fact, all the more annoyingly tentative and slow in their task.

“...Maud? Are you listening?”

She stops altogether, her hands nervously withdrawing.

“Lady Ellie? Don't you perhaps think you should maybe abstain from your visit with Sir Laurence today?”

I scowl at her through the mirror. How could I do that? Why would I?

“And what would give you that impression?” I ask, voice perturbed and accusing.

“It's just...” She falters, but that only irritates me further.

“...’Just’?” I challenge, rising from my chair to face her and begin taking the hair up myself. Her own gaze falls upon the floor, her body remaining annoyingly still in its place.

“...Lady, are you certain you've been getting enough sleep? You look as though you've been through an entire ordeal. I saw candlelight under the door of your chamber rather late last night but I wouldn't have thought—”

I snap.

“I've gotten plenty enough sleep, Maud! Larkin's favour is done, he will be here any time now, and anything else—my comfort, my rest, and your concern—is paltry next to what will happen if I do not speak with him!”

…I don't even realize just how vigorously I've raised my voice until after I've finished speaking and truly come to hear myself with a shock.

“...Lady Ellie…?”

She doesn't have to say anything further for me to already feel the weight of the inquiry within her unspoken words and my hostility falters into petty insecurity.

“I-...I don't—…” I sputter, trying to hide myself behind the words that don't quite form within my strained mind. It's all too easy to see through it, and I can tell that Maud has, just by the way she stares at me.

Like I've gone from troubled to…something altogether different in her eyes.

“...What will happen if you do not speak to him?”

I feel as though hiding behind a fractured, porcelain mask, trying so desperately to hold onto the pieces even as they fall apart through my fingers.

“N-nothing…I—”

“I can see that you're not well, Lady. Something's clearly happened to you. Will you not tell me?”

She takes a step forward, my insecurity pulling me a half-step away.

“Nothing is wrong! I just need to—...to get into my dress…”

But she does not relent, approaching another step closer.

“Nay, that is not true at all! You're in turmoil, my lady! Is it something to do with Sir Laurence?”

I step back further but she keeps coming, stepping around the chair I'd been using.

“Please, Maud, I-I just need my dress. If-if you could—”

“Ellie, please!”

Maud's voice is firm; unyielding in her solicitude. My foot connects with something and I realize it to be the table my mirror rests upon, barring me from going any further…

There's a part of me that wants to tell her but…how could I? I already cannot understand it—how could I hope to explain it to someone else?!

Doing so would require my account of his—…

…I just can't…

But another voice interjects.

“Maud, for goodness sake, do not overwhelm the young lady.”

Goodwife Elizabeth arrives in the room, eyes stern until they find me and her expression shifts, taking account of me.

“...T'is clear that her brother's appointment is already too much for her as it is.”

I would like to strangle her but Elizabeth readjusts her posture, announcing, “Sir Laurence is here to see you, Lady Ellie,” and I find all other matters suddenly of so little importance, panic consuming my heart.

He's already here!

I immediately rush to my wardrobe.

“No no no no no! Maud! My cotehardie! Now!”

—

My mind is as much of a mess as my heart as I race from my chambers and into the hall, hoping so desperately I am not yet too late. There is naught a hope I have in naming the sort of feelings I've wound so tightly within my body, with so many conflicting thoughts of relief, anxiety, frustration, and such heartfelt love for the man I would soon be to marry.

But those thoughts are all that my heart can cling to in this sea of madness, for I cannot feel anything else anymore. I want not to feel them. All I know now is that I will stop him. No matter what happens I must, and I care not for how I so appear in my efforts. That is why I’ve failed before, is it not? That I was not willing to go to such necessary lengths?

That I hadn't tried hard enough?

T'is why I round the corner, my head naked of my hennin and veil—why my hair unbinds itself, messy and so unfinished. In the end, it all matters not how I present myself, only that Larkin is safe. In this I must succeed.

I arrive at the top of the stairs, not even thinking as I so readily bolt down their length and then thoughtlessly rush directly into my beloved's stiffened frame, wrapping my arms so tightly upon him.

Something—perhaps echoes of my original self—try to demand a measured level of decency or bearing but t'is all muffled under the roaring torrent of conflict and emotion within my heart.

“My love! T'is so good to see you!!” I exclaim, passion taking full command over me.

“E-...Eleanor?”

I revel in the sound of his voice, his arms around my body and the feeling of my name reverberating through his chest. For just one more fleeting moment, I enjoy the feeling of my face pressed to the soft, azure wool of his doublet before finally pulling away to look upon him. My beloved. My Larkin.

T'is only barely so that I manage to register his mounting look of concern. If only my own heart were not so athunder, I might not have such indifference of it.

“Love is…is everything—”

“My love!” I interrupt, “I must speak with you about something!”

He pauses for a moment, looking down at me with his contemplative, blue eyes as though he is about to say something before swallowing it whole and instead starting anew.

“...Of course, love,” he says hesitantly, “What is on your mind?”

There's no longer anything greater left for me to lose. I won't go through this again. And so, I resolve that, whatever is necessary, I will so do. Taking my beloved's hand and, with my other palm upon his shoulder, I pull him down, down all the way until my lips nearly find his, stopping only as he keeps himself from me, his grasp commanding my body still.

“Eleanor—!”

“Stay with me for today, my love!”

He watches me, dumb-founded and entirely stunned in befuddled silence as I give him not only what I may, nor all that I so dare…but everything of mine that I have left to give…

“We could do anything, whatever-so comes naturally! Whatever you wish! If it arises in your heart, then let me seek and draw it from you!”

The words pour from me like a reservoir flowing free from a dam that has not broken but simply gone from existence.

Though I say it not, the implication is obvious. There is not a length I will not go to for him to remain with me and, as I speak, the air around me feels hotter, thicker in my lungs with each word rolling from my tongue, dry and coarse. Though something burns within the pit of my stomach, the smile I force upon the corners of my mouth shall be my weapon to combat it.

“Think of it, my love,” I say as though begging, “Is there not anything you would so desire of me? We can be free, unburdened…”

I bring up my hand from his arm, drawing it ever closer to the fine ridge of his cheek.

“...We can be—”

“What is wrong with you?”

I freeze. The eyes which look down upon me are not those I've ever seen of him before; pointed, focused, and so very severe…

“I-I know not what you—”

“Stop it!”

T’is as though he's reached in, directly ripped the words from my throat, and left me devoid of any left to give him…

“You've come down here not as yourself, not looking like the woman I know—your hair is a mess, your clothes are disheveled, you're pale as a phantom!”

I feel every statement as though it were a blow, an accusation pulling at a loose thread and unraveling my final, desperate attempt at saving my—…

…Saving his life.

“N-nay! I am fine, my love. Will you not—?”

“Will you not listen to the way in which you're speaking? You aren't acting like…” He trails off.

“W-what do you mean?” I ask but he only shakes his head in deeper frustration.

“The Eleanor I know would never want to be seen in such a state by anyone!”

“How do you think—”

“Of course that matters not to me, I would be received by you in any state. But you look as though you might topple over, my love!”

I clench my fingers, gripping my dress tightly.

“I'm fine! J-just a little—”

“And everything you've said out of nowhere…This suddenly? I love you—of course I love you—and…I mean, certainly, that comes with a lot but…!” He stops, eyes darting about the floor.

“...Then why will you not stay with me?!” I exclaim, gripping his wrist in desperation, trying so hard to get through to him…but he only pushes my hand away.

“Are you certain you've not taken ill? Has anyone looked at you once?? My love, I could swear you've been on the verge of tears nearly this entire time!”

Nay…Nay, t'is not true! I'm fine! Everything is fine!

I touch a trembling hand to my face.

It's okay. I'm fine. Nothing is wrong. T'is all perfectly fine!

“Please, Larkin…I'm just as I always am!” I say, fighting so hard for that to remain true even as my façade begins to crack around me…

“You're not thinking straight!” He says in denial, his voice now full of concern as he tenderly brings his own hand to my face.

“Are you certain you've been getting enough sleep??”

…I want to scream. I've heard that so many different times, the very same accusation over and over again throughout every one of these days and I finally snap, slapping his hand away as I scream at him.

“—I'm not TIRED!”

I glare at him, eyes wild in frustration. All of my tension, my anxieties; all of my despair breaks to the surface and points exactly at where I least wanted them to.

…Directly into my beloved’s face…

“Eleanor…”

…And I now know that I've lost my chance all over again. There's no going back from here—only death awaits…

…And so, utterly defeated, I pull the favour from my sleeve, drawing it up and around his sword arm as I speak.

“For God's sake, just call me Ellie,” I beg of him, “If you will not stay with me, you might at least do me the courtesy of speaking as though you haven’t already forgotten me…”

…There's just no way that I can stop him from leaving. I’ve given him everything—my love, my shame—but t'is not at all in my power. I cannot ever escape this horror; this brand new and familiar hell…

I finish tying the ribbon, delicately embroidered inscription so lovingly laid bare for all to see upon the arm of my betrothed. ‘BLYSSED BY THY'.

…But what a farce it so is. There is nothing blessed about this nightmare I've been trapped within…

“E-...Ellie, I—”

I press a finger to his lips, for there's nothing left to be said that can do anything but make it all worse. I only turn my back to depart from his touch…but his voice draws after me.

“I could…never forget you. I will return, my love. And then...then, perhaps, maybe we might talk about what you need of me…”

He's already gone from my life twice now. So why is it that his words yet still hurt me so? Why does the prospect of what will never be feel so tragic?

I turn back to him, feeling all that wells within pressing now against the cracks, the tears I told myself I was not holding back—the memories and dread clawing their way from whence I'd so buried them—and I look at him.

“Right…” I whisper, holding back, “...Until your return.”

Then I finally climb the stairs, ignoring the scurrying feet of an eavesdropping mouse as I come to retrace my way through the hall, back through the entrance of my chamber, come to my bedside, find the empty chamberpot from underneath, and then retch the sickened anguish from my body.

…I cannot handle this anymore. No matter how much I try to deny it, all I've been doing is lying to myself and everyone around me. Everything Larkin said is the truth. I look a mess because I am a mess. My stomach is in knots, my head is light—this entire time I’ve not been okay.

Finally, the scurrying mouse slowly makes its return, shuffling nervously to the door of my chamber…

“...Ellie?...Are you doing well?” Maud asks from behind me, the sound of her footsteps slowly approaching.

I shake my head into the pot below me.

“No…”

The word comes trembled and bitterly, like the brine of bile still upon my tongue.

“...No…”

Her footsteps come delicately closer, coming to a rest beside me. Then, with the gentle thud of her knees, Maud comes to lovingly wrap her arms around me and, finally, I pour into her like a font.

“I’m so tired, Maud,” I sob, “I’m so, so very tired…”

I know not for how long but I remain like that with her for what feels like an age. Just a lady, the sister of a nobleman and his serving regent…

…Crying into the lap of her dressing maid…