Rose's Turn

   The rain outside the inn pummelled the ground quick and relentless. It could be heard from inside her room the same way you might hear your neighbour playing the drums, all surrounding and unavoidable. But now with the window open it was as if she had front row seats to her favourite concert. The music blaring in her ears and obscuring her vision in a haze. Below her room a large puddle had begun to form. The lopsided roads pointing all streams towards the door of the inn creating what more so resembled a pond than the opening of a safe house. If she was able to block out all external noises she would have heard the hustle and bustle of patrons in the bar downstairs rushing to get away from the leaking water and the screams of desperation as the owners rushed to block what threatened to enter as best they could. However between the tsunami of rain and the hounding on her door the business downstairs went amiss, not that it would have been particularly handy to know the happenings of the establishment regardless.

   See Rose had a problem to face. A problem she has been outrunning since birth and that problem was death. Her father had been a wicked and unruly man; one she thanks the stars she never got to meet but whom had left her with many enemies. Apparently when you have a horrible parent their sins do not die when they do but carry to their offspring, completely ignoring the innocence a child holds or the inability to inflict harm on the recipient when (again) he is already dead. These people are in pain. They have been beaten and bruised and used for all their worth to the point that her death is their only chance at salvation and after hearing some of their stories she couldn’t deny their obligation to fight. She had debated joining it herself on more than a few occasions. But her mother had not.

   At eight years old her mother was killed defending Rose’s right to live. They used to travel all around the land, never staying in one place for longer than two nights: meeting new people, thrusting into new experiences. It was because of her mothers daily sacrifice that she learnt to fight with the strongest and most noble of knights from across the lands. She used to think it was simply a life of freedom but had soon come to learn it was a curse placed by her father. None of the training could have prepared her for the day her mother left. Watching as she fought with uneven balance and sloppy technique while she sat frozen in the moon's glow.

   Their attackers had been careless too. Most likely drunk or malnourished or both judging by their sunken cheeks, tattered clothes and stumbling steps. Her mother had fought with such vigour and verve she had thought for a moment she stood a chance to fight against the other two women and emerge unscathed. Her dagger swung wildly in front of her as she slashed and lunged at the brown haired woman. The dagger tore at the dress and left a long red slit across their chest sending her stumbling. She took this moment to strike, kicking upwards until her foot collided with the other one's stomach and launching her back with such force that Rose heard her head connect with the ground before she saw it. The first woman remained unmoving on the ground just as the second woman ran towards her mother with a half broken beer bottle and impaled her from behind. The gasp that escaped her lips is a sound Rose still hears every night she sleeps. Yet she still remained unmoved. As if her body had been turned to ice or someone had glued her where she sat in the field. But her mother wasted little time before she was turning around and punching her in the face. Her knife had been dropped in pain seconds before so her hands worked tirelessly across the others face. Blood coating her firsts as she broke bone after bone, shattering her jaw then her nose then her cheek. It wasn't until she heard the distant siren that she realised she was sat on top of the woman still throwing punches despite the fact the first initial hit was enough.

   After which she collapsed. It was at this moment Rose’s body came to life, clawing and screaming as she crawled across the space to meet her mother. Grabbing with desperate shaking hands to roll her body off the woman and into her lap. Her black hair was messy and stuck to her face with sweat that Rose tried with nimble fingers to push away. Her mother always hated having hair in her face. That's why she wore it so often in a bun. But in the chaos it had come undone and lay loose at the base of her neck, stray hairs worming their way against her temples.

   “Rose.” She whispered. Blood escaped the corners of her mouth. She tried to shush her, to say that it was going to be okay, not sure if she was comforting her mother or herself. “Rose, you need to run.”

   “I can’t leave you.” She sobbed. Her whole body was shaking. A lump in the core of her throat so large she could barely hitch in a breath let alone talk. She knew she should be screaming for help; begging the sirens that were approaching to help her mother but once more she was unable to perform. Unable to leave her mothers side as her hands smoothed down the crumples in her dress.

   Slowly, with all the courage she could muster, her mother reached a palm to stop her busying hands. She held it tight and firm, Rose’s small fingers steadied by those of her mothers. She knew in a strange aching way that this was going to happen. Knew that it was always going to be her fault and that she would do nothing to help.

   As if reading her thoughts her mother suddenly said, “Don’t blame yourself. You are not at fault in this. You never have been.” Each word she spoke was strained and forced. Bubbles formed on her lips with each pronunciation showing this was her last bit of strength being used to speak to her here. “To die for you is my greatest honour, sweetheart. But you have to run. Once they find us here I dare not think what would happen to you. You must run and remember all I have taught you. I am sorry to leave you like this but know you are never alone. I am always with you, in the stars.”

   Rose watched through blurry vision as her mum lifted her head and looked at the night sky above them. The moon shone in stark contrast to the black night sky. A black sea encompassing her as far in the distance a single white light shone brightly. The only white light, bar the moon, that twinkled and grew in brightness the more she watched, winking playfully at the small girl below. A faint smile twisted at her lips, she had always loved the night. And when she looked back down to share the moment with her mother she saw her chest unmoving. Her eyes watching as night birds sawed through the sky.

   Rose wanted to yell. To scream until her vocal cords popped. To kick and punch until her limbs snapped. To claw a hand inside her chest and take out her crumpled heart. But she did not. Instead she leaned forward and placed a firm kiss on the forehead of her mother before laying her down softly, collecting their once abandoned bag and escaping into the woods.

   Not many stories speak of being victim to a sacrifice. In all the books she had taken from libraries or snuck out from shops they all spoke of sacrifices as a great deed committed for the greater good. A soldier laying his life down for the queen. The antagonist briefly turned good and saving the hero from a greater evil. But she was not a queen. Nor was she on some brave world saving mission. So the idea of having her mother offer her life in exchange for her own was confusing. Her mother loved her deeply, of that much she knew, and yet at every turn she could not make sense of the decision to protect her over giving up the child and saving herself the torment. No more travelling. No more near death experiences. Finally able to focus on herself. But she didn’t. She didn’t just raise the baby of a man who forced himself upon her- taking life and money from her family, berating the village she grew up in for all their worth; she sacrificed her life for it and in doing so placed a twisted level of value upon her that she wasn’t sure what to do with. She stayed. Not just stayed but protected. Endlessly. To the point it cost her her life. And yet Rose contemplated ending the fight more than her mother ever did.

   BANG! BANG! BANG!

   The rapping of the door bounced around the memories of her mind. Snapping another quick glance at the room behind, she could see the wooden door to her room shaking with such force that the wood was beginning to splinter. Cracking away from the frame of the door until finally it fell. A whoosh of air flung Rose’s semi-braided hair backwards. The door clattering to the ground in a solid smash that shook the ground. Dust expelling from the floorboards that obscured her vision and sent a cacophony of spluttering. But as the cloud began to dispel the people who lay behind the door were revealed.

   People of all shapes and sizes stood stunned but eager. Some were still wafting away the smoke with their hand, a blond haired man seemed to be struggling quite heavily with the dirt if his red face was anything to speak of and for a moment she wondered if the reason for it was birth or her dad. A dark, ginger, curly haired woman stood at the far side of the group smiling sinisterly sending shivers down her spine as she caught sight of their broken and mangled state. But worst of all was the one in the front- his brown hair tousled in the commotion, eyes of black beads pointing forward, lips tight as he exhaled feverishly which made the scar across his face pull taut. Starting from the point of his left eyebrow, dragging down across his nose,  through his cheek and shoulder until it stopped at his right elbow.

   She had met this man before.

   His name was Ruben.

   He used to work with her dad and (after some very vague and extremely shady business deals) ended up losing all his money while her father moved onto his next business venture with Rubens savings. He had been following her for a while now, she was able to recognise his face in a crowd but they never interacted until a few weeks ago. He had monologued between punches of how her dad lost him his family and gave him that scar but the downfall with speaking so much is the lack of concentration. He was so busy explaining that he hadn't realised she was tying him up between blows. She managed to finally pull away and hoist him upside down in a tree before running away but she knew they would see each other again. She always did.

   He stood looming in the frame of the door and she knew there was no time to waste. Swinging her other foot around the window frame she held her bag tight and jumped. Her feet splashed the lake gathering outside the inn with a solid connection but she had underestimated just how tired she was. Weeks of walking and horse riding had worn her thin and she wanted nothing more than to sleep for a few days but Bentwood clearly had other plans. As soon as her feet hit the ground her knees buckled turning her landing into more of a roll. From above her voices yelled orders and footsteps thudded but she had no time to look before she got up and took sprinting.

   The rain was still coming down in sheets, her hood doing little to prevent the water from seeping through the cloth and filling her clothes. Despite blurry vision she wound effortlessly between the narrow cobblestone paths, drawing on instinct to ensure she wasn’t heading for a dead end or hitting people as she ran. Her bag rattled against her back leaving bruises in her already worn skin. Behind her the yells got louder as more and more people rejoined the hunt, a stampede of footsteps stalking her every move.

   “Faster! This way!” The gritty voice of Ruben cut through the storm. Rose wasn’t sure if his voice was really that loud or if he was closer than she thought. A feeling bubbled in her stomach and she fought to push it aside. Instead pumping her arms and quickening her pace as fast as she could. Her heart beat so fast she was sure it would cause the earth to shake any minute, maybe then she’d be able to lose those following her. The urge to look behind was almost unavoidable, just a quick glance to see how many there were- to see if she could take them. But she didn't need to look to know the answer. Ruben alone was strong enough to overpower her. She didn’t like to admit it but she wasn’t delusional. The only reason she had escaped last time is because he was emotional, he was too involved in making her understand his sentiment to notice what she was doing but this time was different. He had nothing more to say and what he lacks in intelligence he makes up for in strength. And that's without accounting for all the others still following.

   She could tell the group had lessened, the footfall sounded lighter than before however they were still loud enough to make her knees tremble as her feet pounded against the ground. Maybe if she stopped and let them kill her they would be too busy arguing amongst themselves on who got to deal the blow that she could escape. But was that really a chance she was willing to take. The mob did sound more like a ‘shoot now, argue later’ kind of crew. So, it was time to make some drastic decisions.

   Rose began to slow slightly before making a sharp right turn. Her arm millimetres away from an outstretched hand as she switched. Her legs began to speed up again but it was clear the change in pace had only weakened her stamina. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up but she had to keep going. Footfall changed from the harsh plattering of stone to the squelchy stomp of grass and mud. Each step squished under her as she willed herself not to fall. Screams and groans of frustration came from behind like music in her ears, showing that part one of her plan had worked, the gloopy mud suctioning to peoples shoes and forcing them to stop chasing. Now onto phase two.

   She remembered the night earlier, stumbling half asleep through a field wishing for a place to sleep when the town appeared. A mirage of sanctity and rest and food as she edged closer to its streets, ignoring the hills and cave it held as she passed. How vain she had been to value the comfort of a bed over her chance at survival. She ran to it now, her feet caked with mud. With no time to think of possible animal dangers inside she pushed one final time with all the strength she had left into the opening at the base of the hill.

   It wasn’t a huge opening. Reaching merely six feet tall but she figured that would work in her favour. Her smaller stature made it easy to slip inside and fumble for any possible exits. With her arms outstretched, fingertips grasping for the walls, she felt for an exit. She kept her speed as best as she could while fumbling for a break in the tunnel though with no light it was hard to see anything including what her feet were stepping on. Which was exactly why when her foot caught at something and she went down she couldn't help but gasp. Her whole body fell forward with a splat so hard it took all breath from her lungs. She struggled to stand, her legs completely jelly under her. The full halt allowing all exhaustion to finally set in as the adrenaline faded. There was no way she could run now, her legs simply would not supply it. She tried to keep moving but her knees buckled causing her to fall against the cave walls. Dirt and mud covering her hands and face as she braced against the structure. Until finally one of her hands fell through and she knew it broke off. She was leaning against a corner and as she swished around frantically, her back resting against the wall, she could just about make out the shape of two other exits.

   A fork in the road.

   If it weren't for falling straight on her face she may never have noticed. The noise of footsteps could still be heard behind and they were close. Thinking quick she bent down and felt for any kind of stick or rock to throw, her hands held tight to a series of small pebbles that she quickly threw far down one of the other exits before backing away as silently as possible. The yells and clattering of her chasers followed as they muttered to one another about following the sound when all at once they were passing her. Rose held her breath despite the burning in her lungs to breath after so much running and watched with squinted eyes as the forms of five blurry hunched figures continued forward and away from her.

   Everyone had left and yet Rose continued to hold her breath. Holding. And holding. And holding. And holding. Until she had no choice but to open her mouth and exhale. If there was a light in this cave she was sure her face would resemble that of a blueberry. She stood frozen, her back still leaning against the passage of the cave while she caught her breath. Should she run? Were they far enough away to not hear her leave? What if she had picked the shortest path and they were already turning back? They would catch her leaving

   Questions swarmed her head but the thought that was most prominent was that of relief. However short lived it may be.

   Rose glanced to the side examining the passage she was in when her eyes caught on something gleaming. It was far in the distance, so small it was hardly there at all. And yet the hint of a glimmer far down the path and round the corner could be seen from her eyes finally adjusting to the dark. With slow soundless steps Rose made her way closer. Being pulled by curiosity and wonder like a hand that stuck in her chest pulling her onwards. The path was time consuming and she had to keep one hand stuck to the wall for support but as she got closer an unfamiliar feeling slithered around her. More than curiosity and wonder but something that spoke to her of bewilderment and disconnection.

   Her feet dragged across the dirt path until at last she reached with outstretched hands, a solid wall. There were no cracks or splits. In fact it was unusually smooth as her hands glided against its seemingly polished end. A dead end? Then where did the gleam come from? she thought. She looked back confused but behind her looked like the same dark abyss. Turning back at her hands she noticed that the surface had changed. As she observed the wall began to move. While her hands remained firm against the cool exterior the wall itself looked like it was moving, twisting and turning through space. Squinting harder she noticed it wasn’t just a dirt wall but held a pattern of the stars. Tiny lights the size of pin pricks flickering against a dark twilight landscape. Rose watched in breathless amazement as they appeared and disappeared in a myriad of luminescence before stopping again. After some time of suspense the design appeared once more.

   She took a step back to admire all of its beauty and in doing so noticed the path she was in no longer resembled the same narrow tunnels she had entered. The space was expansive, so expansive she could set up her own house quite easily down here and still have space for more. The walls were at least 50 feet apart and the ceiling had grown upwards, carved above them approximately 100 feet high.

   The more Rose backed up the more she came to realise it didn’t look like a normal wall. The base of the tunnel widening at the bottom and curving at the top in a shape that resembled that of an egg.