Painful hollow

My thumb began to trace the scars along my battered body as I tried to remember what life outside of these four walls had been like. Yet nothing comes to memory other than the pain caused by these monsters who call themselves jailors.
Yet again my fingers trace the hardened scabs, the blistering skin and the painful hollows where my eyes should be! I am glad that he won’t see me like this, so small, so battered and so defeated! His rose once stood so tall and proud now the wind has blown it apart. I often ask myself was it worth it? All the pain and suffering? And for what? A few moments of happiness!
And the answer always ends up as yes! Yes it was!I decided to measure my cell for one of the last times. Yes I could still lay with my hands on one wall with my feet on the other and yes it was still twenty feet. Not metric feet just my toes to my heels. I wish that the screaming would stop! I pray that they would stop merely because it takes away the pleasure for the men who cause the pain. I just sit whispering to them, trying to give them the strength and dignity to stay quiet. Yet only the walls listen to me.
The walls are more evil than the men because whilst the men enjoy their jobs they are following orders whereas the walls keep me locked here, they listen to my whimpers and the see my body wasting away and they see my life slowly slipping away. Yet still they keep me here, still they stay as hard as ever, still they tell no one of my innocence.
The last thing I saw was a poker that had sat in the fire so long that it was now white hot. The man smiled at me his few yellow broken teeth, frightened me as he laughed
“Take a good look missy, because this is the last thing you will ever see.”
He chortled some more before plunging the poker into my eyes. I dug my nails into my palm till the hot sticky blood coated my fingers as the heat was so intense and the pain so unbearable yet it was the laughter that was the worst thing. He found causing pain funny, I suppose it gave him a feeling of power and high maybe. Yet I hope that God may forgive him for the sins that he has committed and for the pain he has caused.
It is a night when it is worse especially no when I can no longer use my sight. I sit waiting for the sound of keys and laughter as they call me a whore as I do not scream or refuse. That was a lesson I learnt on my first night here. When they first forced themselves upon me as shouted and pleaded yet it only ignited their lust.
It is in these dark moments when I try to remember the days in the garden, the day when I first met him and my final moments of freedom. Sometime he visits me; I can feel him, his ghostly hand on mine. We just sit and talk about good times gone by. I can almost feel the sun on my cheeks and the sun-kissed air in my lungs.
I was sat in the sun with my long hair shining like a cavalier’s boot; it was flowing down to my waist. I had my deep red bodice and skirts on with the jewel encrusted front and I wore a black fascinator in my hair as I always did. The air was warm and smelt like apples and honey-suckle as the beautiful sound of trickling water filled my ears. The grass was a richer green than the brightest of emeralds. How I long to sit there again? How I long to hear my father call me across to meet our guest?
Our guest would change my life forever and he would ultimately lead me here to my darkest moment where the line between life and death becomes transparent and I am unsure whether I have crossed it yet or not. His name was Edward and he showed how to live my life. It was he who I fell for and ultimately will die for. It is funny how we both used to swear that we would die for each other yet we never believed that we actually would. He was put to death last week; he was burnt alive in oil. It is the same way that I am to leave the mortal world.
When I first saw Edward he was tall, proud and had the deepest blue eyes that I had ever seen. Not the battered, bruised wreck that I had passed my door. I had heard him shout my name as the guards brought him down the corridors. I leapt up to see him but that thin face with hollows in his cheeks and the bags under his eyes still haunts me today. His eyes told of pain and misery they had that dying warrior in him, his spirit was dying. I shouted to him telling him of my love and that I send him my strength. I hope it gave him some sort of comfort because it didn’t only earn me a beating but it also scared me deeply. Mainly because I knew he would not last much longer.
I never knew of his secret, it was this secret which destroyed our dreams, our lives and us. He was the king’s nephew! This was a deadly secret and deadly it turned out to be.
We had been married for two months when the king's guards came to arrest us. They took us away from our modest little house in the country where Edward tended to his sheep and pig whilst i tended to his washing and cooking.
It wasn't to later that I found out why we had been arrested. The king thought that Edward was a threat so he set him up for treason and since I was his wife, I was automatically involved. Yet all me and Edward ever wanted was to be happy on our little house with our life! That I am grateful for I could never allow a child to live in such a world; where the innocent die and the guiltily live on happily!
The jangle of keys broke my chain of thought as I heard the jailors voice.
"On yer feet lil' missy! Tis finally come! Tis time to die!"
Funny how it is the jailor who took my sight is now to take my life; yet I believe that he is giving me my life because as the heat melts and scolds my body. Mine and Edwards’s souls can be reunited as we gallop across the freelands, our mane and tails flying high, our hooves drumming in time to my dying heart beat. I hear them waiting for me! Edward and my child are waiting! as my breathing fades, I ask myself one last time was it worth it? Yes, yes it was I laugh as the sound of drumming hooves engulfs me as I gallop out of the city to the freelands to see Edward and my child. We shall live forever through the sound of drumming hooves.