Love at Dawn

20.The Name of Miracle

But the claws that had been gripping her neck suddenly loosened. The man's eyes, already bulging with rage, widened in disbelief to a horrifying degree before he toppled stiffly over to the side.

And with him fell heavily the person behind him.

It was Charlene.

The young girl, who had been trapped in a narrow space for fifteen long years, suddenly threw her body out of the seat, with both arms bracing against the armrests, like a swimmer pushing off from the shore. She spread her arms wide, struggling to keep her unsteady body balanced, before throwing her stiff, weak legs like two wooden sticks, kicking out one foot and then dragging the other, stumbling forward with each step, shivering and jerking with each movement.

Her almond eyes widened with determination, her teeth biting down hard on her lower lip, causing her whole face to convulse. Her movements were so staggering that they were alarming, like a canoe struggling against a huge wave, relying solely on the inner storm driving it forward, poised to be swept away into the void at any moment by the next surge of fate.

But she was walking. The paralysed girl was walking towards them.

Step by step, she made her way forward, brandishing the knitting needle in her clenched hand and plunging it with all her might into the back of the big man's neck, putting all her weight behind the thrust. As the man threatening her friend's life fell down, both her knees buckled like snapped reeds, then she knelt along heavily on the ground.

No one could ever explain what had caused these cursed, frail legs to unleash such a heart-stopping surge of strength at that moment.

The devout priests would call it a miracle, while the faithful doctors would call it willpower. But perhaps there is only one word that can truly name this wonder - woman.

Her bony knees hit the floor with a resounding thud, sending shivers down the spine of anyone who heard it. But she paid it no mind, not even sparing a glance at the lifeless body of the man she had just killed. Instead, she reached out with a trembling hand to her dear friend, her voice filled with fret and anguish: "Are you alright, Edith?"

Edith's head spun and her vision blurred, and with a violent coughing fit, she also collapsed to the ground. As she regained her senses, she took in the world around her once more.

Unable to speak, she crawled forward on her knees and tightly embraced the brave maiden, burying her face in the lean yet sturdy shoulders of Charlene.

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Edith had fallen ill after all. By evening, her body was wracked with chills, her limbs aching and limp, and her head too heavy to sustain the spirits.

The young girl wouldn't appear weak, so she refused to admit that it was the result of being frightened by the accident during the day. Even as Aunt and Margot pressed her into bed after dinner, she was still stubbornly muttering that it was just a coincidence that she happened to catch a cold.

Regardless, the moment she laid her head on the pillow, she drifted off into a deep sleep like a kid.

When Edith woke up dazed, she found that it was already midday outside. The long rest had relieved the always healthy girl of most of her illness, though she still felt a bit feeble.

"You're awake? Edith!" an urgent male voice came, and she saw Andre crouching by her bedside.

"Andre! How long have you been here?" Edith was a bit shy, pulling the quilt up.

"Citizeness Margot let me in," he seemed to want to bend down to kiss her immediately, but held back due to concern for her discomfort.

She noticed the redness around his eyes. It seemed he had spent a sleepless night.