A Single Bleeding Heart

I

   I,

Love you. I can't wait until we can intertwine fingers in the moonlight. We can raise our children in peace. No one will bother us, nor our children. I will wait forever. In the meantime, I send you letters straight from.....the heart. No matter what, my presence will be there. My heart aches due to our situation from afar. I wish for just a window of your time.

Signed, E.H"

It seemed obsessive, yet these were the kind of letters I used to receive when I was younger. My heart used to pitter-patter reading these. I cocked my head to the side. My, I wonder who would dare to send me a letter like this. I was, after all, going to be married. My hand was given up to rescue my family name. There were no sons in the Van Buren family. Meaning that the family name would be drained away. The disappointment was engraved onto my parents face. My mother would hide away behind a fan, she never said no to my father. Always prim and proper. The family name balanced on both of my shoulders. The most I could do is marry a rich man. I'm 17, he's 43. I wish they could see my heart. I wish they could see I am more than just a woman. The heart is what matters, after all. The fellow who had sent me these letters must be mighty brave. The town crier had been crying for weeks now. He had announced that the hand of the beautiful Annabella of the Van Buren family would be gifted to Lord Levi Bennett. He was a rich man from down south. The town had chosen the right crier. The crier's cries could be heard from miles away. It was unfair, I was to be sold away at the age of 17. I embraced the letter, I held it next to my chest. I bit my tongue, this prevented the river of tears from breaking its dam. The news shattered my heart. My freedom had just disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Anything was better than being trapped. Even a ......heart attack.

I looked to my right. There was my silver vanity mirror. On the table attached to it sat an assortment of items. A stand had dozens of necklaces hanging off it. There were necklaces with charms of flowers and symbols. My favourite was a golden necklace with a red heart charm. There next to the stand was a vase. It had 5 bleeding hearts, gifted to me from an unknown person. They were my favourite flowers, how lucky was this suitor! It came with a letter. It held together the 5 flowers, all of them were beautiful. The heart-shaped flower dangled like a single pendulous drop. I opened the letter that held together with the bouquet. I unravel the note holding the flowers. The letters were written with excellent penmanship. Each letter was written in a runny deep red. It bled through the paper. Why did this person want my heart so badly?

"I will prick my fingers. They drip like my blood, I want to run my fingers through your soft red hair. I prick my fingers. Your hair is deep, soothing, red. I prick my fingers, for you. My sleeping beauty. These are your favourite flowers. I prick my fingers planting these for you. I prick my fingers, for your heart."

The note glided down to the floor. The letter was stained with tiny droplets. They were red, just like the flowers. My eyes grew ample with fear. For what was this splatter of colour? The letter mentioned the words, "they drip like my blood." I breathe shakily. My hands could no longer stay still. From what part of the body did the blood come from? How could that much blood come from just the fingertips? My heartfelt like it was bursting out of my chest. My hand covered my mouth, no words would or could fall out of my mouth. The letter lay there on the cold wooden floor. I stare at it. A love letter was common for me. I'd get them when I was younger. Yet this letter felt different. My lace curtains danced in the wind as cold air pushed inside of my room. My lower lip quivered. I looked at my right hand. It had a red line on the fingertips. A miniature stream of blood was created. It fell onto my white nightgown. The paper cut me. Deeply. It soaked the white gown.

"Annabella......." I jumped. I let my hand fall, and slowly looked to my right. There in the doorway stood a tall figure. The figure held something. It was tall and sharp. Annabella let out a deep breath. It was Ada. the maid and her best friend. She lit the object. It was a candle on a decorated silver platter. "Are you doing okay in there, you seem a little pale. Oh no....are you sick? By golly, you need to rest." I felt a lump in my throat. It prevented me from speaking. I tried hard to push it down. Gulping, I shook my head.

"I...... I'm......okay," I whispered. I close the door slowly.

I rested my hand on the door. I held my breath until I heard Ada's footsteps disappear. I grasped my shirt with my free hand. I started gasping for air, my heart wouldn't stop rattling around my ribcage. I sat down on my bed shaking thinking about what I just read, what I just touched, and what I just became a victim of? I turn around. My heart skids to a halt. The window is closed. Was it opened earlier? Was it closed? The lace curtains covered the window. I lean to the right. There's nothing but a bunch of branches. They rap on the window. Maybe, I'm too paranoid. The note was probably a joke. I opened my drawer and folded it gently under some old poetry belonging to me. If mother found out, she'd go insane. I wish she would have a heart for once. I lay in bed. I look towards the ceiling. My red short hair lays on the silk pillows. I blew out my candles. Just 4 more weeks until I get married.