Oceans Apart

Chapter 3 - Violeta.

11 years ago - England

My coming into society has been a great success. Oh joy! Praise the day!

I want to punch every man that looks at me. I want to grab their silly little bow ties and pull them over their heads. I want to throw this wine in their faces. I want it to burn their eyes, the same ones who stare at me and my body with nothing but tainted thoughts. I want to remove all the impaired and impure actions that enter their minds when they see me.

I want them gone. If I could wish away their judgemental glances, I would. Nothing disgusts me more than these people. 

I've been thrown into a room filled with men. My suitors. My mother is practically glowing from her excitement. My father, bored, reading the newspaper. Of course he wouldn't care. He wouldn't care about the fact that one of these men will become my husband, and of course he feels no need to interrogate the man before it happens. He will let whatever becomes of me.

He cares not if he is unruly. Cares not if he is in debt. He only wants me gone.

My mother must be able to read whatever look is on my face; she quickly smacks the back of my head as no one is looking. The men are talking among themselves. As if I cannot hear them. As if I cannot think for myself. I hear their perverted words amongst one another. Talking about me. About my legs. About my breasts. My mouth, even. And yet, I must sit here and take it. My mother seems delighted by their comments, "They are interested in you, dearest."

I nearly scowl. Interested? They are not interested in me, they are interested in only what they deem curious about my body.

The only thing keeping me from shaking this bottle of champagne and pointing it at the faces of these men, is my deal with father. But right now, an old house in the middle of nowhere, with no men, is starting to look pretty good. I start to debate my options.

Should I? Shouldn't I?

Perhaps I should pop that champagne, perhaps aim some of it at my father in the process.

"I do not know what you are thinking, but I should recommend you stop thinking it." My mother whispers under her breath towards me. I lower my gaze to my hands placed neatly in my lap. Grab the champagne. Shake it till it explodes. Aim it at these men. Ruin their clothes, and in the process, their interest in me. I could drop my teacup, play it off as a clumsy and not properly trained young lady. Perhaps I could spill some hot tea onto their laps,

"Miss Violeta, how are your skills on the piano?" A man asks me. My skills? Awful, but I'd love to make your ears bleed on the forte.

"She is impeccable on the piano! I've never witnessed such exquisite playing!" My mother ruffles me up for the men. She's lying. 

"And how about your dancing?", "Cross stitch?", "Flower arranging?"

The questions roll in, my mother speaks for me for every question thrown my way.
"Oh my! She is quite the dancer! Perhaps you should ask her for a dance at the Lady Bridgemont's ball this evening!",
"Cross stitch! My my! I have her tapestries hung all over these walls!",
 "Her flower arranging is extraordinary! This bouquet itself was prepared by my dearest Violeta for this special occasion. Perhaps she wanted to impress you all!" 

My mother laughs out her lies. I am not fond of dancing, I do not like cross stitch, and I did not arrange those flowers. My mother starts fanning herself with the thin paper fan she holds in her hand. Perhaps all these lies are catching up with her. One can only hope, at least.

Then, as if this situation could become worse, Emelia enters the room. She bows her head towards the men, which puts all their attention onto her. Perhaps this isn't that bad. Yes, Emelia, steal my suitors from me; I do not want them anyways. She gives me a look, the same look she always does, that rude, side eyed smirk that leaves me to believe she is actually trying to steal these men from me. Little does she know, I could not care any less, in fact, I encourage her to do exactly that.

Soon enough, the men become engulfed by Emelia, and they no longer care about me, not that they ever did.

I see my sister lean into one of the men's ears, covering her mouth with her hand as she stares at me. Whatever she said about me, must of been bad, because he then looks to me with disgust. Emelia giggles. Everyone is enthralled with her. "Mother, may I-"

"Yes, go." I don't even need to finish my sentence.

Standing, I leave the room, and I do my best to hide my hurry. I walk out to the terrace, then down the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. Then, I head off to my secret hiding spot, an old staircase down the cliffside that leads directly to the shallow water. I've made some personal touches, secretly hired a worker to build a small deck right off the sand.

I slip off my shoes and pull on the bow that holds the tightness of my dress, allowing the ribbon to become loose and slip off my body. I remain in my white underdress, which only goes down to the middle of my thighs. It's considered outrageously taboo to dress like this in public. Any skin of my legs shown above the middle of my shin is frowned upon. But I don't care. It's my body, I should be allowed to show as much as I want. My skin is kept pale, the women say the paler I am, the more attractive I will be for the men. Makes me look pure.

I am anything but that. I put my dress over the side of the railing, then sit down on the wood deck. I lay down, allowing my feet to hang over the side and drop into the cool water. The sun warms my skin and I feel my cheeks start to heat. I don't care if I get sunburnt. I sit up and stare out at the open waters. This entire bay is shallow, clear water, nothing like the beaches by our vacation house, but still beautiful to look at. 

Perhaps going back to Greece wouldn't be so bad, I doubt that thing I saw is still alive, I doubt he's still in that area. I swing my feet through the water, pick off a few flowers growing on a low hanging tree near by. I remove the bottom of the stems, then place the flowers into the water. I place down 5 flowers total.

"Miss Violeta!" I hear a distant maid shout. Shit.

I stand, grabbing my dress and pulling the item back on, messily tying the bow back together, followed by my shoes. With one last look, I look over my shoulder at the flowers I placed, but they're suddenly gone. Huh?

Did they get pushed under the dock by the current maybe?