Scattered Pieces

It really was a long week, indeed. She had even begun to consider the fact that she had been cursed by a witch at birth; to live a most tragic and unfulfilling life from beginning to end. Cordelia sat in the garden with her hands in her lap, a distant look on her face. Her mind felt blank and full at the same time, flickering on and off and cutting through her train of thought and not a single one being fully formed. That's all her week's been of, constant interferences. Without question, she'd rather be buried alive than have to go through random trivial little things break through her short-lived, feigned peace.

She sighed to herself, maybe out of restlessness, before getting up from the fountain edge where she sat, and stared inquiringly at the water. More importantly, her reflection.

Cordelia hated herself. A true, grim, and impeccable feeling of hatred aimed directly at her. Doubtless, it was for a dozen or so reasons but she certainly knew the core of it all. And perhaps that, that core, was precisely why her hatred was all she could currently think about. It was beyond feeling pity for herself, as that was the last thing she'd want from herself. She held her head too high for that. Which was why it made it so interesting, that she'd fallen so far into the water, that sunlight had failed to grace her porcelain face.

Would it ever, she supposed, was the big question.

…

The young girl was distraught due to her father and mother's absence. Just over twenty-four hours ago, her parents had both held her in a tight embrace as they informed her of their trip which would take, at the very least, twelve days. It be normal for her, a young girl at her age, 9, to clash with the depressing sensation of loneliness at the news. At that time, she appreciated the staff and especially her personal maid, Isabella, whom the young girl loved as family.

Isabella, kind as she was, let the young girl do what she wished with her day, knowing that she'd be distracted and in a daze all day through her lessons, thinking of her parents. Well, it'd happen regardless, but at least this way, the young girl could be free from stress.

The young girl, with a small basket in hand, planned to have a little picnic. She'd rather not sulk in her room, and she needed a breath of fresh air. She discovered quite some time ago that it be most important that she learn what worked to calm her nerves. She had tried a couple different calming methods such as painting, gardening, and even took two weeks to try and create her own alphabet. A secret code of her own, if you will. As proud as she was when she finished it, she had to find something else.

That "something else" was a few hours of comfort, all to herself. The weather was perfect for a picnic. The breeze refreshing as it brushed through her hair and against her face, with just enough warmth from the sun to keep her from shivering. So she walked out, not too far away from her home, into a great green meadow with an impressive willow tree in the center, tall and proud. She'd set up right beneath it, sheltered by the low hanging leaves and branches. This, was it.

The young girl settled down on the large blanket then rummaged through her basket, taking out her bowl of fruit and her book with excitement. But before she could even begin her reading, another young voice called out to her, followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps on the grass.

"Jamie!" He called, smiling brightly at her. She clapped and giggled adorably at the sight of her brown-haired friend whom she hadn't seen for too long. He took a seat next to her and began throwing grapes up into the air, and catching them in his mouth.

"And what if you drop one? I only have a few in my basket and I hadn't planned on eating any covered in dirt!"

"Now, now Jamie! What's with this? Have you lost all faith in me now that we have not seen each other in a while?"

"Perhaps I have! Now you really should stop before I pack up my things and leave!" The young girl threatened, holding her chin high with her hands on her hips to assert her dominance.

The two children burst into a fit of laughter moments after, holding their stomachs with desperate attempts to regain their composure. But they both knew, they needed this. So what if they let loose for a little while? Children will be children, yes?

…

The memory felt distant, but still so familiar. Comforting.

'Familiar and comforting…is that what could help me…?' The thought would've dragged on forever that it'd eventually be forgotten, if the timing hadn't been so perfect.

Cordelia felt it in her chest, that she were a fool for not taking the chance the very moment it came to her. What had she been wasting her time doing, anyway? Gazing out the window, walking through the garden, letting panic settle and even letting herself lose track of time. Or was that all normal for her? Was that her routine? Did she really live such a dull routine, and never even act to change it?

'Shameful as it is preposterous…Am I ill?' She wondered, furrowing her brows.

What were her thoughts yesterday, or even a few hours ago? Cordelia narrowly resisted the powerful urge to scream at the top of her lungs and settled with sighing heavily into her hands.

"Madam?"

Cordelia turned her head to the new butler, letting out a soft hum to tell him to continue.

"Are you alright? Is there something I can help you with?"

Cordelia shook her head three times before crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm conflicted…whether I'm feeling ill or simply angry…I can't be certain. Try as I might…"

"I'm sorry to hear that, Madam. But with what's happening, I suppose it can't quite be helped."

Cordelia turned her head to the side just slightly before looking back at him, "What do you mean?"

"Madam, surely you know!" Harrison spoke with surprise before continuing. "The quietness that rests upon this hill and the Hockley Manor is but temporary. The state of the town is in distress with no authorities assisting anyone, not even themselves! The Sams' orphanage is only fenced off and the family estate the same. The number of attackers on the streets are only growing and their crimes-"

"What on earth are you talking about??"

Harrison stuttered at her expression. Not only her expression, but the fact that she stood in an entirely different way. She was fully facing him, but standing in a way that complimented her lost tone. What Harrison found most extraordinary was…no. There was not just one extraordinary thing about her. She was everything that extraordinary could ever mean, and in a way that he couldn't even understand. But he couldn't currently think of another word to describe her.

"Madam, are you aware of what season we are in? Could you tell me?"

Could she?

"…Spring…" She mumbled.

Harrison smiled warmly at her.

"Indeed, Madam." He agreed.