Despite it being well past sunrise, the house was dark. I had woken up with a start, hearing the sound of a car below but now as I lay awake, I was in even more of a panic.
"Don't make a sound." She whispered as she clasped a hand over my...
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Lisa Bonnefoy is living proof that miracles exist. Renowned for marrying the country of France and being the reincarnation of the saint, Joan of Arc, Lisa has had a lot to live up to. When a tragedy leaves Lisa widowed and solely responsible for raising hers and Francis' son, Lisa finds herself facing an even bigger trial than the Siege of Orleans; she must overcome the battle depression. Join Lisa as she navigates her way though an uncertain world full of strong-willed countries, mindless politics and impassioned family members who all believe they know best for her.
...
That night Lisa dreamed. Not a surreal dream like the one before with its slow pace and blurred feel. This dream was the newest of her lifelong collection; it was one of the classics she was now all too familiar with. It was a dream that not only took a toll on her mind but also her body; it was so heavily set and so emotionally up-heaving that Lisa knew as she dreamt she would not feel as though she would have had an ounce of rest by morning.
When she had been little, no matter what the doctors prescribed, no matter how many specialists Izzy had taken her too, nothing stopped Lisa's frequent nightmares. She was almost able to predict when they came; at least once a week but more frequently twice. They had been that frequent for as long as she could recall.
That night, when Lisa lay beside her son and closed her eyes to fall to sleep she almost wanted to cry when she opened them to find herself in the dark, scungy cell she almost felt familiar with. It was a blunt awakening; to fall asleep in a cosy hotel room and then wake up in a place she subconsciously knew she never had been nor actually was.
It was musky and it felt hard to breathe but she was not sure if it was just because the dark felt heavy upon her shoulders or because she physically felt too cold to let her lungs heave for air. Maybe she was not frigid with coldness but rather fear? She felt too tired to even distinguish between the two so she accepted her self-assumption that she was suffering from both.
Pulling the bottom of her pant legs over her heels, she let her head rest against the stone wall and watched the two guards on the other side of the iron bars. Her eyes did not leave their backs. She was so tired but she couldn't bring herself to fall asleep whilst they were around. No, as long as they were around she was convinced she was in an immediate spot of danger.
'My God, how did this go so wrong?' she silently prayed, 'One moment I felt you by my side but now in my time of need, in my darkest hour I sit here by myself in search of your strength. Please, please help me find the strength to face my fate tomorrow.'
She let the tears roll down her cheeks as she contemplated tomorrow. This was it. Tomorrow was what everything she had worked for had come down to. All that she had won was at a loss. Had it all been worth it? In that moment, she was not sure.
"They asked me if I was in your grace." She whispered as she watched the guards, "I told them that if I am not may you put me there and if I am, may you keep me. They did not like that but I was not sure what else I could say."
