She was screaming as they dragged her out, over the cracked cobbles and as close to, without going into, the evening. Her hands were shackled, her feet not; but that was the exception and it meant she could try to pull away, to run and fight in her desperation… and to the crowds excitement.
She looked wild, untamed, her hair which had not been brushed or washed for days was standing on end, flying unrestrained around her face. Her eyes were wide with fear, her face gaunt with starvation and her lips blood red against her pale face and it only added to their excitement.
If she looked mad they felt justified; the more crazy she looked the better. And she was unintentionally putting on a great show. Her guards were bruising her delicate arms with their determined restraining – and all the time laughing. Hiding their real feelings of guilt deep down underneath layers of pretence and determination because to them it was simple, she was their sacrifice. To them her death was their lives.
She was dressed to lure, but in the colour of death. A plain simple black dress, low cut – just short of revealing. The material clung her body, her curves and flowed to the floor gracefully but with none of the puffiness accustomed to the women of their little town. She was very afraid and unused to such garments she felt ridiculous in her clingy dress, though she knew her body was like every other female and with nothing wrong embarrassment should not be on her mind. But it was. She had no idea how tempting she looked or how the material fitted to her body giving her a quiet air of elegance that was so at odds to her hair, and to her actions.
Just as, with death looming the shackles rubbing on her wrists, hurting as they chaffed at her soft skin should not have been on her mind, the fingers of the guards digging in should also not have been on her mind. Yet they were. In her fear and panicked struggles, pain still registered. The cold night seemed apt for such a sacrifice, the piercing bite of it serving only to remind her of what was happening.
The procession was long. They paraded her through her entire village, past the people she had grown up around; trusted and loved in many ways and now they jeered at her, laughed at her madness and made it so felt so…shamed. It made her hate what she was doing. They did not deserve what her death would bring. But it also hurt; once she would have laughed and joked and shared biscuits with her neighbours. Once she would have helped the older women carry their washing or shopping. Now they had turned against her. Forsaken her to her fate and had not shown the least concern or acknowledgement of the little girl they had raised to a woman. They had lapped up the lies that the seed of madness lay inside of her waiting for today to show itself in preparation. They clung to the lie like sailors to a ship in a storm. They knew the lie was for them. For justification. And slowly she began to hate them.
Her family stayed inside it was both a betrayal and a mercy. They had not fought for their daughter/sister but they did mourn her fate. Her mother had cried dearly as she was dragged away. They accepted the inevitable and for that she couldn’t help but feel hollow inside. They had given her up their daughter and she had loved them dearly, trusted them to love her back and fight for her. She had not been given the chance to say goodbye to them. It angered her and saddened her as much as it as a relief – to say goodbye would have broken her heart and maybe, just maybe for now she had doubts, but she suspected to say goodbye to her would have broken her families hearts as well.
The night was getting darker; grey clouds huddled in as the pale blue turned slowly darker and darker. Numbers dwindling of people watching now. The guards stopped their laughter and quickened their pace. Her heart thudded in her chest and she pulled with renewed strength that went unnoticed. They dragged her along to the edge of the village where no houses lay, where only sand decorated the rim of civilization.
A ripple of unease ran through the two guards. They wanted to get this over with being outside was dangerous in the night. Past the village loomed trees; lots and lots of trees. A forest left unexplored due to circumstances. It looked ominous, pitch black it seemed but as they pulled her through the maze of trees they were able to see where they were going.
“Please, please let me go. I’m begging you!” She let her legs give way with the intention of falling to her knees to beg but they dragged her upright before she even touched the dirt.
They said nothing to her, the guards. Rules stated they weren’t allowed to but dragging her to her death they found they did not want to. Hearing her speak would make her a person not an object and at her tears their resolve was already wavering. But they did not stop.
The clearing could be easily seen, it was as if the very trees gave way to it. Framed it. Watched it from up high. She gave one last frantic struggle pulling at her arms, straining against the chains screaming, crying. So many ways to live and die and she would see none. She would never fall in love or marry or have beautiful children. She would never be a mother to rock a baby, to teach a young one, to see life grow and develop.
She would never see her elder brother achieve his dreams - a job in the big city carrying on his father’s trade but to a bigger more diverse (and mostly richer) audience. Never again would they play with each other, mocking each other, taunting with no hurtful motives but plain teasing. And her parents…She was lost to them.
A huge boulder in the centre halted their steps, obviously put there for this very purpose. The grey rough surface made her tears stop and her struggles die down. The guards pushed her up to it and held her shoulders. With her back resting uncomfortably against it’s edge her arms were pulled back and her shackles were connected with chains. The chains were bolted down to a catch at the back of the boulder. Round in shape it came up to her shoulder blades and was wider than her. Her hands, arms were secured. She was chained to the boulder and to struggle now would only cause the pain of dislocation in her shoulders.
This was it then. The fight left her and so too did the guards. Albeit with backward glances and sideways glares. But still they left her to her fate.
And the silence.
Placed at the boulders point just as day was turning to night, now she had to wait. Indefinitely. One minute, an hour, all night the decision wasn’t hers and that added to the fear. Under her arms prickled as she started to sweat and she could feel perspiration on her forehead.
The quietness, the stillness, had her straining her ears wanting to hear for the approach. Needing to hear. Not hearing anything was making it harder as it meant she had to wait longer. As much as she wanted to live, if she was to die, she wanted it to be over with.
No branch rustled, no bird squawked, not even an insect buzzed or clicked. The dark blue sky slowly turned black and within the hour – the longest hour of her life – her vision went from colour to monotone. The banging of her heart hurt her and her breathing became erratic. Tears dampened her eyelashes.
She could hear the rustling of her chains scraping against the boulder as her tiny frame trembled. In a quiet stuttering voice she prayed to the God her mother taught her about but she had paid little attention to. She prayed for forgiveness, then mercy and then used the chance of speaking as a way to ask the questions she knew would only be answered through experience.
“Will it hurt? Oh God what if it hurts? Will it be over quick? What if my final moments are prolonged? I don’t want to be begging to die as I am to live.”
The wind picked up and the hairs on her back stood to attention. She stopped crying, stopped out of panic and because tears blurred her vision and she wanted to be able to see everything. She stopped because the sobs made her body shake more and that meant the grating sound of metal chains on stone boulder was loud when she was waiting for a quiet sound to signal the end.
Branches moved in the wind and she knew now was the time… Frantically she looked around at the clearing - whipping her head in all directions wondering which way death would come at her. Another breeze had her hair scattering and her heart…stopped. Something moved out the corner of her eye and in slow motion; dreading yet resigned, she turned her head to left… And a man walked forward.