The front door slams violently behind her.
The legs give out.
The floor is cold.
Pimple face. Laughter. Spit.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Come on Asha, breathe.
Wisteria. Honey. Mugs clinking.
A strand of hair sticks to her sweaty cheek.
She folds in on herself, head between her knees.
Breathe.
Damn it.
She was so scared. Vincent really looked like he was about to beat her.
But that's not why her legs are shaking.
It’s about him.
Sebastian.
He didn't look at her.
Like she didn't matter.
And still.. he stopped Vincent.
She inhales. Then exhales.
Again.
Trying to keep it together.
She really thought she got over it. That she was better than that.
It seems she was wrong.
Five years, and she still hopes.
Stupid.
Yet, he stopped Vincent.
Just like he did before.
A glimpse of fire.
People dancing.
The smell of wine.
One blink and it is gone.
Sebastian Perry.
Handsome. Refined. Privileged.
Well-mannered.
He is everything this village admires.
And he knows it well.
That's how she fell in love. Before being faced with reality.
They have known each other since childhood; the village's not big enough for it to be otherwise.
Everyone stayed away from her or played nasty tricks on her. Called her demon, omen.
He, on the other hand, didn't.
She recollects books scattered in the mud. Her clothes covered in it.
Vincent and his crew laughing.
Sebastian was there, a hand reaching out for her.
A snack offered when her lunch mysteriously vanished.
A saliva-filled paper ball removed from her hair.
Usually, the boys stopped for a while after.
He cleaned up their messes.
Falling in love with him had been like falling asleep.
Gradual. Inevitable.
Asha declared her love during the solstice festival.
She should have known better.
Alone at the festival for the first time, she was drunk with joy and wine.
No one targeted her that night. Everyone was too busy having a good time.
The wine gave her enough courage to dance around the bonfire.
That's when she found herself in his arms.
Her flower crown was tilted.
Sebastian straightened it. Then smiled at her.
At the time, they were almost the same height, so it hadn't been difficult for her to reach up and kiss him.
But their lips never touched.
Instead, he laughed.
Not cruelly.
Just loud enough for Vincent to hear.
And mock her.
She came home in tears.
Zelda was finally convinced to complete her education at home.
And since then, she has stayed away.
No meaningful interactions with him.
Until today.
The floor is still cold beneath her.
Her arm throbs where Vincent squeezed it.
Asha lifts it in front of her to take a look.
Pale skin. Red impressions.
Finger prints.
Her bones vibrate with pain.
This will bruise. A lot.
She gets up.
There's no need to stay on the floor for longer.
With shaky legs she heads for the bathroom.
She stops, trying to steady her nerves. Weak. Helpless.
Nothing she hates more than that.
No one ever dared to touch her. Fear of possible repercussions from her aunt have always kept people at bay.
She knew perfectly well that after her death things were going to be different for her.
She just hadn't prepared for freezing. She was prepared to respond, even to fight. She didn't take into account how much someone Vincent's size could hinder her.
She splashes some water over her sweaty neck, pulling her hair up into a high bun.
The face staring back at her from the mirror is that of a corpse.
Dull, pale, and sweaty.
Hair sticks to her skin. Eyes feverish.
She can't let Aran see her like this.
He'll be worried to death.
And she doesn't want to let him know how miserable she feels.
She heads to the back room to get some water.
Time to take a bath.
While she waits for the water to warm, she goes back to the bathroom.
Behind the decorated cabinet's doors there is a collection of oils and bath salts.
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“There you are”
The little bottle with the word ‘Calm’ written on it is just what she needs.
She passes her fingers over the elegant handwriting.
Zelda's.
A shaking breath. Nothing more.
That's all Asha permits herself.
She fills the buthtub with the now hot water and pours a generous amount of oil in it
Lavender fills the air instantaneously.
She dips her toe in to test the temperature.
Hot, almost unbearable.
Just as she likes it.
She immerses herself up to the shoulders and lets out a moan.
The perfumed water softens the memory of that encounter.
She almost forgets her problems for a second, resting her head on the edge of the tub.
She is running.
Purple flashes in the night.
A scream.
A persistent meow wakes her up. Annoyed.
The cat is staring at her from the edge of the bathtub. Every few seconds, he makes a sharp, piercing cry.
Asha shoos it away with a splash of water and sits up.
The water, now lukewarm, laps at her hips. Her skin is illuminated by the rays of the afternoon sun.
The air coming from the open window is cooler, giving her goose bumps.
She shivers.
She lets down her hair, letting it fall over her firm breasts in soft, messy waves, to untangle it with a wide-toothed comb. Then she washes it with a mallow and mint ointment.
Falling asleep in the buthtub.
That’s a first.
She jumps out of the tub as quickly as possible. One towel around the body, one on her head.
The mirror is misty, but she can see that color came back on her face.
Good.
She looks at the clothes on the floor. She can almost see Vincent's saliva on them.
No way.
She takes them to the kitchen, and throws them in the fire.
The smell of burning fabric sticks to her as she walks away.
The cat’s eyes follow her with boredom and vague annoyance as Asha picks some new clothes from her room.
Another skirt. Another blouse.
Nothing fancy, as always.
She braids her damp hair and she carefully examines her reflection in the bedroom mirror. The bath washed away all traces of the discomfort she felt a few hours earlier and her face regained its color.
But the green of her eyes is dull. There's a sparkle missing.
She takes the small comb with the black paste used to darken her eyelashes and gives them a quick brush. They’re still dull, but at least they stand out more.
Aran won’t worry too much about it.
Asha reaches the kitchen, trying not to trip over the cat zigzagging between her feet.
She takes a handful of coins and puts them in her pocket.
However it will cost to repair the necklace, she’s determined to give Aran at least double.
Also to thank him for the ring.
Sun reflects on her hand, creating a play of lights as she moves her finger.
It’s a delicate piece, but at the same time full of character.
Easy to bend, but with an edge.
Just like herself.
Her eyes shift to her arm.
That's less delicate.
On her skin there is a print of a hand.
Darker than before.
Looks like Sebastian came too late to avoid this, uh.
Well, it could have been worse without him.
She touches the bruise with a finger.
“Auch”
A shock of pain travels along her body.
“For fuck sake”
That hurts.
The blouse’s sleeve isn't long enough to cover it.
She needs to be careful not to show the arm to Aran.
No need to make him worried.
**
It's almost sunset when she's back at Aran's.
The main street is full of workers, ready to drink to forget the wives and husbands waiting for them at home. And to find comfort between the legs of some willing servant until late at night.
She keeps close to the wall on the opposite side of the street, holding her breath.
To avoid the stench of sweaty bodies.
Or not to be seen.
Maybe both.
She allows herself to sigh of relief only when the door of the goldsmith's shop closes behind her.
“There you are! I thought you'd gotten lost,” Aran greets her cheerfully as usual.
“More than getting lost, I lost track of time!” Asha laughs, feeling the tension melt away from her shoulders.
He is always able to put her in a good mood.
“I'm sorry to give you bad new, love, but it's not ready”
He stands up, necklace in hand.
“I wasn't able to fix it with my tools.”
Asha's heart sinks a little.
“See, the metal is sturdier than I thought”
He hands her the jewel.
When the gem hits her palm, she feels a shock. A hum under the skin.
The bruise on her arm pulses.
“That's a shame Aran, but no worries”
She pulls a smile.
“I can always keep this in a cabinet, as a reminder of my aunt”
“Oh don't be silly”
Aran takes back the necklace and puts it on the counter.
For a moment, Asha feels incomplete.
“I've already sent a message to a colleague of mine. Hopefully, I'll visit him to use his tools”
He sighs softly, mustaches trembling.
“I'm a little bit envious, but he has a better equipment than I have”
“Oh Aran I didn't want to cause you such an inconvenience!"
“Inconvinience? I'm thrilled!”
She looks at him confused.
“Thrilled?”
“Yes, I get to use some fancy tools, and visit an old friend”
He squeezes her arm, just inches above Vincent's mark.
Asha winces.
The goldsmith's smile falters.
“You ok?”
“Oh yes” she releases the arm from his grasp and hides it behind her back, “you just have cold hands, I was taken by surprise”
He looks at her with deep eyes.
His smile lingers, but he doesn't insist.
They chatter for a little more, until the light starts to fade.
“See you in a couple of days” he says as she walks out.
“See you Aran, thank you very much”
It’s already dusk.
The inn's filling up again, noises louder than before.
Asha walks quickly to the nearest alley.
The edge of the village is just a couple of steps away, the woods already in her sight, when someone calls her name.
“Asha”
She freezes.
Impossible.
From the shadows in front of her a figure appears.
Blond hair. Amber eyes glistening in the dying light.
“Sebastian?”
Her voice is a whisper.
He hasn't spoken to her in five years, but the effect he has on her is always the same.
A warm sensation pools in her stomach.
She hates that it does.
“I really was hoping to see you,” he continued, coming closer to her.
She takes a step back.
Straight back.
Eyes on the floor.
“Asha”
Two. He just called her name two times.
That's two more than usual.
She eyes him.
He's patiently waiting for a response. Hands in pockets, posture relaxed.
She collects her nerves.
“What do you want?”
She snaps, bitter than she wanted.
He gasps.
A hand runs through his hair.
A small smile forms on his lips.
He looks almost embarrassed.
“Yeah, about this morning”
A pause.
Asha doesn't respond.
Their eyes meet and Asha can't look away.
“Sometimes Vince can be a piece of shit, I know”
He laughs. That damn hand is still running through his hair.
“Today he lost quite a lot gambling, so he might have been a little.. prone to fight”
He shrugs.
Another smile. Wider.
“I shouldn't have let it go that far”
Asha is wordless.
She can't quite place what is happening.
Sebastian must take her silence for a good sign, because he steps toward her.
She's too stunned to move. Or speak.
He extends a hand to touch her, but she raises her arm to shield herself.
Out of instinct.
In the movement, the blouse's sleeve runs up, revealing the bruise.
In the dusk light, the mark is even darker and visible.
Sebastian stops, his eyes on her arm.
Something flickers in his gaze.
His jaw tightens.
Hands in a fist, knuckles white.
“That won't happen again”
His voice is lower than before. Angrier.
“I won't let anyone do that to you again. Not Vincent. Not anyone else.”
A pause, then he adds:
“Not as long as I'm around”
He doesn't wait for her to reply.
Without looking back, he disappears again in the shadows.
Wisteria and honey linger in the air.
Asha walks home like she's in a dream.
She keeps thinking at Sebastian's words.
Could it be?
Could he be worried for her?
Her heart beats faster for a moment.
Light with something she usually doesn't feel.
Hope.
The kind she should have left behind years before.
