Surrender [H.S]

Chapter Four

Third Person; Emilia.

Andrew had been gone for several hours, and Emilia began to grow worried. However, she wasn't worried for him; she was worried for herself. Even now she could feel the strength that she had gotten from the fairy heart she consumed hours ago, so she was beginning to slip back into her own mind.

"Curse you, Andrew," she said, through her teeth, and closed her eyes, feeling herself falling deep down into her own subconscious.

**FLASHBACK**

Running away from Mr. Garner, Andrew, was one of the most difficult things that Emilia had ever done. However, that was only because of his reaction due to the bruises on her arms; he seemed genuinely concerned for her. Normally, whenever someone saw them they looked the other way, or just pretended that they weren't there. No one cared if someone was abusive toward a woman, especially when it was the daughter of the mayor; whom was known for his violence ever since his wife was burned at the stake.

Emilia sniffled and wiped her eyes as she shook her head. "This cannot happen. My father will have him hung, and I can't be the cause of more to suffer," she whispered, hugging herself.

Forgetting that she needed more items from the market, Emilia headed straight home with her head down. No one gave her a second look, or rather, all of the older folks ignored her. There were a few of the younger men, married and not, that looked her way. They eyed her as if she were a piece of meat; one that was available and vulnerable.

However, Emilia was used to these types of stares. She knew that now that she was nearing the age of seventeen that there would be men that would try to court her, though she had no interest in marriage. The moment that she married someone the authority over her would switch from her father to a new man that she didn't know, and his abuse could be even worse than what she dealt with now.

No one married for love anyone. Men only saw her as a beautiful, fertile, woman that could produce healthy children and that could cook and clean for them. She saw no desire in becoming someone's live in maid for absolutely nothing in return.

And besides, the moment that she was married away she could no longer protect her younger sister, Margaret. The only reason that she was left alone was because their father had the oldest daughter to hurt whenever he wanted, and if she were to marry and move away, it was leave little Maggie vulnerable to such brutal attacks.

She turned the corner into the small walk way between the blank, and the saloon, using it as a short cut to make it home before it neared sun down. It appeared that she would have to make something small that evening since all that she had gotten from the market had been apples for the pie she planned to make.

"Hello there, pretty lady. Why don't you join us?"

"Hey! Why you walking so fast?"

Her arm was roughly grabbed, and she was forced back against the chest of someone that she didn't know very well. She had seen him, and his friends, around town and more often than not they had been one of the men that gave her lust ridden looks. And now they had her trapped, vulnerable, whilst they were completely intoxicated.

"Please, just let me go," Emilia said, through her teeth, trying to jerk her arm away.

"Don't think so, ma'am," one of the men slurred. "You owe us a little somethin' and we plan to collect."

She wrinkled her nose. Ever since her father had started drinking the smell of alcohol always made her sick. She made a vow that none of that cursed liquid would ever pass her lips.

"I am Mayor Rose's daughter," she said, through her teeth once more, trying to make her words sound firm. "You cannot speak to me like that."

The man holding her arm snorted, and tightened his grip. "Don't care whose daughter you are, little lady. You still good looking, and that makes it worth it." He leaned down, and she knew that he meant to kiss her, but she turned her head at the last second, forcing his lips to connect with her jaw. She shuddered at the feeling of his bushy beard rubbing against her skin. It was harsh, and cold, almost reminding her of the rough material she used to wash dishes.