Blue Blood, Eliza Wards [ebook reader txt] 📗

I wrap a red blindfold over my eyes and tie it over my deep brown, wavy hair. Ignoring the few strands that get caught and ripped out by the knot.

I feel the cool metal of my blades against my palms. They always bring me a level of comfort, as if they are an extension of me.

Inhaling deeply, I try to push all thoughts out of my head but fail to. I listen to my breathing but all I can hear is Benjamin's shriek ringing in my ears and reverberating against the corners of my skull. His death flashing beneath my eyelids like an old black and white film playing on repeat.

It has been three years, and it's as if it only happened yesterday. Time has no meaning. Grief has no limit. Love is forever binding even when they are dead and gone.

You learn to live with the pain and the hollowness that follows. You miss that person as if your life depends on it. Even when your heart aches with each beat. Three years have passed, and I am someone he wouldn't even recognise anymore.

I had no choice! I confess to his ghost in my head.

He would inform me there's always a choice. A way to be better.

I throw a knife muting my inner turmoil for a moment. I listen to the thud as it hits my target. I picture the murderer in my mind's eye. I can't be better! Not until he's dead by my own hands! I scream to myself. I throw the rest, memorising where all the dummies are. Sweat drips down my back as I pull my blindfold off and judge my handiwork.

Bullseye in each dummy. Right through the heart. I smirk to myself as I pick up my boxing gloves, unable to rid the cobwebs of the nightmare that still cling to the edges of my mind.

I hit the bag, one punch after another. I swing my hips and kick, the bag rocks from the wooden beam above me, creaking in protest.

"Blue," Aunt Maggie murmurs, breaking through my wild release of anger, "enough!" She tells me. Her voice sure and direct yet she has never shouted at me.

She waits until I land one last kick in and carefully walks up as if I am a caged wild animal. Her blue eyes hold worry and a hint of wariness as she helps me to take my gloves off.

"Another nightmare?" She asks.

I grunt, confirming her query.

"Same one?" She asks.

I keep my eyes cast down. She touches my cheek, making me meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry, my sweet."

I shrug my shoulders and rub my face once my hands are free. Restlessness fills me as I grab my knives from the dummies and turn to find Maggie still watching.

"What?" I ask but I don't mean to snap at her but it comes out harsh.

She raises her eyebrow but otherwise doesn't call me out on it. "Come downstairs for breakfast once you've tidied up here. This room needs to look like I use it for storage. No traces of your stuff. There's a raid today and we need everything to be perfect." She turns and leaves me to it. "One hour," she shouts over her shoulder.

"Ok!" I call, knowing she will want a reply. I always get antsy when there's a raid.

Every month for the past three years we get raids. The Officers of the King search for weapons or groups of people trying to revolt. The citizens suffer because this band of merrymen believe they know better but all that happens are more laws and regulations. The King believes if you push hard enough eventually people will break. All of this makes life harder. Then again, life has always been hard.

Yanking the last knife out of a dummy I wrap them up in a cloth and place them in a box. I padlock it and hide it under a weak floorboard in the room's corner.

I lift each dummy, made of hay, and drag them to the corner of the room and place garments on them. It takes time, but the room returns to normal and its former use of a bedroom/storage room.

I struggle with the punching bag but manage to lift it down from the wooden beam. It's then placed into the cavity of an old sofa where it stays hidden from everyone. Quickly, I sow around the sofa after putting more filling around the bag and then shove the pillows into place.

I take stock of the room, the low ceilings and the wooden beams. The mannequins all dressed up in outfits for all types of occasions. Material overflows boxes and everything looks as it should for a tailor's shop.

I undo the screw that holds the punching bag. Throwing it into a box full of little tools we used to tailor peoples needs, wants and dress codes.

"Blue!" Maggie calls and my time is up. I race into my room and take off the clothes I work out in and pull on a dress knowing this is what they expect of a tailor's niece. I run out of my room and without a word Maggie helps me to lace the dress at the back.

"At least you now look like a girl who works here not a boy who seems to have anger issues." She winks at me and I laugh.

"I enjoy wearing trousers, it's not fair we should always have to wear dresses." I tell her, same old argument but it puts us back into our little routine of moaning about day-to-day life and stops us thinking about the raid on its way to us.

"You know I don't mind you trading cloth and fabrics in boys clothes, nor do I mind you training in them. But when you work here, in the shop, are the days you wear a dress. People expect us to and we have to keep up appearances."

"And, I am in a dress." I inform her with a smile, "even though it's killing me on the inside," I joke.

Her grin is the only sign to my comment. "Yes, you are in a dress," She smiles patting my cheek and making me sit at the table with her. She places my porridge in front of me and two cups of coffee. "Everything put away?" She asks, a twitch in the corner of her eye is her only tell to when she's nervous.

"Yes, I tidied everything up."

"Good, now eat." She smiles and sips her coffee. She ties her pin-straight blonde hair up into a fancy hairdo. All part and parcel of the dress code of this little shop we have here.

I eat my porridge and try not to show my nerves on the outside. It only makes Maggie more nervous.

"We will be fine." I repeat our little mantra we say to one another every month.

Maggie smiles at me above the rim of her coffee cup. "Damn right we are," her eyes twinkle despite the twitch of nerves.

"Always are," I finish our little pick me up lines. I'm not sure if it brings either of us comfort but I enjoy saying it.

Before we finish our coffees, the officers knock on our door and let themselves in. In this Kingdom, we don't have rights with officers. It's their way or, there is no or, it's just their way.

Silently we hand them our papers of identification and deeds to the shop as five officers come in and trash the shop. One takes money out of our till without a blink of discretion or sorrow. Maggie always leaves a small amount in the till but hides the rest. It's the only way we can survive.

My blood boils beneath the costume I have on. Yet, I keep my face impassive, my breathing even and my eyes cast down like a proper little apprentice seamstress.

"Cooperate and this will go smoothly and with little hassle." We hear things crash onto the floor. I wince at the thought of cleaning up after them. "If you've got nothing to hide, we will leave soon." The officer tells us as he takes the espresso cup from Maggie, spits into it, and then gives it back to her.

He saunters up to me, his breath smells so bad I can taste the foulness. He stands too close. Too personal. Bending his head, his eyes find mine as he grots into my cup. He gives me a grin of yellow teeth and I can see in his eyes he wants me to react. He has all the power and we have none. He grabs my arms and leans in. His body pressed against mine.

I force myself to stay still and shut down my feelings. I stand my ground. Promising myself I will not allow him to go any further. Maggie watches with wide grey eyes, I give her a look to stand down. She grits her teeth and nods. We can't afford to react.

We stay mute, Maggie avoids my gaze because she knows the anger I will see there will only put fuel on to the fire, so I keep my gaze lowered and say nothing. The officer feels my body. His hands pressing too hard and squeezes my small breasts. Hard. I am pressed against a wall as one of his hand's presses against my stomach, so I know not to move. The other strokes up my leg and then other. Presses areas that no one should touch without consent.

My hands itch for their companions. They itch to teach these men how to treat a woman, how to treat humans in the right manner.

"Paulson," an officer says coming into the room. His eyes meet mine and for a second, I see shame and empathy for me. Then the emotion disappears, and it's as if I am nothing. "All checks out. We need to move on, sir."

He stands back up and presses against me again, "Just when things were getting interesting," he hums in my ear.

I keep my face neutral and my mouth shut.

The men pile out and somehow, I keep my jelly legs beneath me. Hatred burns a hole in my stomach.

"I've seen that look before, my sweet child." Aunt Maggie says as she ignores the shop and the mess but comes straight to me. She knows not to touch me yet. She stands in front of me and waits as I block it all out of my mind.

"I'm fine," I tell her, my voice comes out strong and even.

"You are not to go out tonight, promise me."

"It won't change anything, Aunt Maggie," I tell her, a softness comes over me when I look at this woman who took me in despite the problems I cause her. Despite a lot of things, she stands by my side when no one else would.

"I know it won't change anything. Nor do I want to persuade you otherwise. Just, not tonight. Let me have tonight with you." She tells me, her voice small and shaky.

I look into her blue eyes encased in worry. I realise that she must feel ashamed for not trying to help. For not doing anything to protect me.

I pull her into a hard hug and hold on to her as she releases the sob she was holding back. "If you did anything, it would've made things worse. We both know that." I tell her, trying to take the blame she feels off her shoulders. "Tonight, we will spend the night in. We will play that damn game of yours and drink that Moonshine you have hidden. We will drink until it makes us blind and we can't move from the sofa." I pull her off me, so I can see into her eyes. The eyes of my saviour. I wipe the tears away and smile at her.

I watch as she pulls herself together, "That sounds like