Short Story: Fragility

Sleep came fitfully, painfully. After the blood was washed off and I stepped into a new nightgown, my mind would not quiet. The pain remained -- between my legs, my right hip, down my back, my left breast, the bite mark on my shoulder -- pulsing like a dying star. When sleep finally came to me, I embraced it like a lover. We went down, together, into the depths, where pain did not exist.

A pinprick in the darkness. "Get up! C'mon now, up!"

I opened my eyes and found my canopy swept away in the morning light. Aunt Wallis stood there, fetching in a grey wool dress, smiling. There was no warmth there. "Get up."

I rubbed my eyes. "What's going on?"

"We're going to see that grandmother of yours," she said dryly. "So go get ready." I did as was told, ignoring her glare at my shoulder and attempting not to limp, and returned to the room a few minutes later -- teeth brushed, face splashed with cold water, hair up in a neat bun -- to her in my room still, rummaging through my wardrobe. When she found what she was looking for -- a long-sleeved, black dress that fell above the knees -- she tossed it at me.

"Put that on," she told me. "And wear that black coat."

"Please excuse me," I mumbled.

"Not to worry, dearie," she said, smiling as she went to perch herself on my bed. "We're both women, all the same." I attempted to retain some pathetic form of dignity as I turned my back to her and dressed in the chosen outfit, pushing my arms through the sleeves and adjusting it on my frame. An ant was lower than I at that moment.

"He had fun with you last night, didn't he?" my aunt asked me. That's what she called it -- [i]fun[/i]. A word likened to days in the sun, laughing, twirling and spinning on grass till the dizziness takes over a...

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...r wait any longer, shall we?" he said and put his arm about my shoulders, propelling me forward. When we reached my aunt, whom still giving the driver a tongue lashing, Uncle told her bluntly to shut her mouth and get on inside before she catches her death. He slipped the man a hefty note for his troubles and we followed my aunt inside.

A languid man in a suit was waiting for us in the grand foyer -- a vast space decorated . "Follow me, please," he said, as dry as a bone, and beckoned for us to carry on after him. We weaved through various hallways and corridors, past beautiful paintings of old and delicate artifacts hung on the walls and perched on tables. Antlers of long dead deer dotted the walls like thorns crawling out of the woodwork.

"How vulgar," Aunt Wallis whispered as we passed them. Uncle paid her no heed. I happened to think that they were fanciful.