Sweet Satisfaction (Purple UGC Winner 2014)

Sweet Satisfaction - Fifty-Three

Fifty-Three

Ludmilla stared at me with a gaze made of ice cold steel.

“What are you talking about?” I glanced over at Elizabeth, who flashed me an urgent look. My fists clenched and nostrils flared; this woman, this woman who I had trusted, had murdered my brother. She had pressed down on his neck until he could breathe no more. Teeth gritted, I tried a different tactic.

“Why did my father murder my cousin Natalya’s parents?”

“Would you really bring us splendid grand clothes, and other wonderful things?” Rain butted in, eyes wide and yearning. I nodded meaninglessly, feeling numb. She was thinking about splendid grand clothes whilst I was thinking about my brother, my little brother Benjamin.

“You will not bring frivolities to my village!” Katchatchawen snapped.

“Oh, Tata, please!” Rain begged, as I continued to glare at Ludmilla. Katchatchawen’s eyebrows furrowed down and he slammed his fist on the arm of his chair so hard it vibrated.

“I. Said. NO.” I shrugged my shoulders at Rain limply, eyes blurring. All I wanted was the truth from Ludmilla.

“Elsie. You will behave properly. We shall go to my tent.” Still failing to understand how my behaviour had been unacceptable in their eyes, I swayed. Did I dare follow her, the woman who murdered my brother?

“Now.” I followed her out into the unbearable heat, and into her stifling sleeping quarters. Everything was immaculate, neatly stored in baskets around the edges.

“Undress.” I blinked.

“I said, undress,” she snapped, even though her back was turned.

I was laced into an extremely tight corset, underneath a very heavy and stiff dress seemingly belonging to the last century, with its large bustle. Ludmilla was right; I looked like a Queen, but I didn’t feel like one with my feet blistering and swelling in the too-small boots and the constant scent of fear that swam around me. The boots reminded me of Susanna’s little lace up boots. Susanna and Bobby kissing…

No matter how hard I tried, the hurt they had inflicted upon me seemed to be eating away at my heart. How could two people I loved so desperately do that to me? Sometimes, I just thought it was God’s punishment for my immoral acts behind John’s back, and that it was my entire fault.

I went back to my tent to collect my possessions. I was the Queen, I was the Kingston Heiress, and yet Ludmilla had me at her beck and call. I was too scared to run away, I even felt too scared now to confront her.

“My purse, my purse- it’s gone!” I cried, rummaging about.

“A purse,” Ludmilla repeated, lip curling. Every word she spoke sent shivers down my spine, despite the humid conditions. Had Ludmilla taken my money? My nostrils flared even more; Mother had given me that money, my scared, battered, pregnant mother who had lost her son to this witch, her daughter to a man, and her family for another wife-beater. I longed for news of Mother and Mary, to know that they were okay, and that the Zeppelins which dove and soared through my dreams still hadn’t killed them too.

*****

It was Elizabeth, Rain and the two Marias that stole my purse. They came back into camp on a chestnut horse, with rubies on their fingers and diamonds on their necks, with flasks of clean water and boxes of gowns on their backs. Katchatchawen stood up, spitting, eyes popping, and the people, my people, fell silent.

“You…” I gasped, as his finger pointed at me. What had I done, except try and find out if Ludmilla was my brother’s murderer?

“Get them.”

A dozen men flung themselves at my friends, who yelled and shrieked, pretending they were innocent, but of stealing my money.

“Let me go!” I screeched, as Ludmilla dragged me away, her fingernails clawing at my skin so hard she drew blood. I fought with her, chest tightening, pushing her away as if she was drowning me too. She pulled me through the village, into one of the makeshift houses, slamming the door behind us. I leant against the wall, lungs contracting in and out quickly as I recoiled from her, sniffing back my tears.

******

An hour later, I was staring in the mirror, lost for words. I didn’t look like me, Elsie Knowlbodye. Ludmilla had told me that if I wouldn’t show respect for the villagers, she would make me be like one. All I wanted was to go back to John, away from these absurd accusations. She had painted my face and arms brown, and coloured my hair black, so I resembled the majority of my people.

My cheek burned from where Ludmilla had slapped me, when I had screamed at her, demanding the truth. I didn’t know what she was trying to do to me; why she had turned on me. All I knew was that it was the same cheek as Emma’s slap, Father’s slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Zeppelins. Zeppelins. Zeppelins. Bobby and Susanna. Bobby and Susanna kissing…

I woke up with tears slowly drying on my face.