Imprisoned

Arabella

A/N the beginning of this chapter may be a little boring I'm sorry. However, it will all lead up to a very important ending. The rest of the book relies on what happens in this chapter so read carefully and don't miss a thing. 

xx Z

I don't really know what to do with myself. I don't have the courage to deal with Louis right now, and I have no more good memories. I can't paint anymore because I ran out of supplies, and nobody here likes me so that takes away the opportunity of hanging out with someone.

It is then that I realize how completely alone I am. I have isolated myself so much in this world, relying on nobody but myself. But I still don't trust myself. I want to change who I am, I want to change what I look like, I want to change my name. Almost everywhere my name means joyful. In church it means my God is bountiful. It means silence, it means thinking. It is like the words in the middle of the page. It is invisible. It is the poems that I write on the walls with words that sound like paintings.

t was once a mouthful, long and eloquent, before it was shortened and given to me. My grandmother wore the full name proudly as her middle name, like a little badge of honor hidden between Sue and Catalano. She too was a woman of words, never caught without her crossword puzzle. The old ones, rich with knowledge just like her middle name.

I would like to be half the woman my grandmother was. She did only what she wanted to do and made sure everyone knew it. Her name, Sue Elizabeth, may have been tame, but she really wasn’t. Somehow that independence and those headstrong tendencies didn’t get passed down with the name. Maybe when my parents shortened Elizabeth to Eliza, it didn’t only lose letters. The little things, like the way she always had a book with her or her handwriting in all caps, were lost along with b, e, t, and h. I didn’t inherit her entire middle name, or all of her traits, but I like to think I inherited some because she wasn’t the type to look back and say “what if”, but instead looked forward and said “I should”. I wonder if there was ever a thing she didn’t do.

Some people say my name like it hurts. It comes out like sandpaper, all rough around the edges, but my middle name softens it somehow. Gray. It comes from my other grandmother, her maiden name. She too had a harsh name once. One that sounded like nails. One that looked like the scratchy sweaters you got at Christmas, but her maiden name, which did become her middle name, somehow melted the edges off like warm butter. Gray.

My middle name is ambiguity. It is the dust bunnies under the bed. But paired with a first name, it means something different. It means warmth and family. It is the worn leather of a used journal. It is a whispered legend that is passed down through generations.

Sometimes I wish my name were different. Exotic. Dark. Something else. Anything else. If I had to change my name, it would be to reflect not me but the music I listen to and the things that I read. Raven or Arabella. Yes. Arabella would be nice. Different from everything I’m used to. Different. Exotic. Dark.

The only thing I don't want to change is Louis. I want him to stay. I want him to never leave. I want him to escape with me. So I imagine a world where it is only us two. Where we rule the forest and the fields and the rivers and streams without nuns or caretakers to et in our way, without anyone to leave us and break us. I just dream.

But those dreams and those thoughts are interrupted with a rapid knock on the door. I emerge from my trance-like state and peer around the stack of books in front of me. Louis stands there, almost bashfully, looking up at me through his eye lashed. His lips are curled like he is about to say somethine, but he just can't say it. The words ready to escape, but he won't let them. 

He continues to look at me for sometime before putting his hands in the pockets of well worn jeans and making his way over to where i sat. Louis sits next to me on the ancient couch, and as he puts his weight on it, the couch spits up dust, a cloud interrupting the air between us.

He looks up and his eyes meet mine. My eyes are locked on his, the green and blue of his irises just as enchanting as they were the first time we met. Then he speaks.

"I'm sorry."

I cock my head to the side, confused. He seems to pick up on this and speaks again.

"I shouldn't have taken advbantage of you. It was wrong of me to kiss you and leave like you meant nothing to me. I just haven't been able to get you out of my mind- I don't know what it is but there's something about you that just makes me want to grab your hand and hold it forever. It makes me want to ask you about your day, every day. It makes me want to kiss you all the time. I want to open doors for you and take you on proper dates and treat you right. But that wholw scene in front of the library just made it seem like I wanted to use you and for that I'm sorry."

I 'm at the speech this boy has just made. He had said everything I have felt towards him, and I feel obligated to tell him. So i take a deep breath and take in his nervous features, worry etched across his face as clear as could be. And I tell Louis,

"Run away with me. I've been planning an escape for weeks. I don't know where I'm going to go but I'll go anywhere if it means I won't see these boring white walls or have to deal with the vapid caretakers. I don't want Anchorage to be my home, and I don't want it to have to be yours. I can't get you out of your mind. You're always there, a nagging in the back of my head and I don't understand it. I've never wanted to know someone as badly as I want to know you and what better way to do that than run away together?"

I really don't know where it comes from, but I say it. I tell him all about my great escape and I tell him all about how I feel. 

He seems a bit shocked at first, taken aback by my crazy proposition, and with baited breath, I wait for his response.