Day 2. Remembering the pain...

As I looked out the window of my room I thought about when I was first captured.

“Desida... We know that you loved your husband dearly, but he wouldn’t have wanted you to wallow in the house for the rest of your days,” Said Hugh.

I looked at my brother and thought of his luck. His wife who was in her last month of pregnancy was probably eagerly waiting for his return in their London home. Since I was 29, I was considered not only a bitter old widow- but a spinster at that; so I knew I wouldn’t be wanted. My beauty alone would not be enough for me to catch another husband. Smothering my heartfelt sigh I turned from my station and eyed my younger brother.

“Leave me Hugh; you have your wife and child – let me wallow in my own pain...”

My brother walked out to me and said, “Desi,” (he likely thought using my childhood name would soften the blow) “I know how you feel – but Arthur wouldn’t have wanted you to–”. I whipped my head around and stared accusing eyes at the only person who had ever truly known about my less-than-perfect relationship with my husband. Stalking towards him I poked him in the chest with a long yet skinny finger.

“You- know -nothing – about- my- relationship,” between each word was sharp jab at his chest. Spitting at his feet I said, “You have been a pampered brat all your damn life, you wouldn’t know pain and heartache if it bit you in your damn ass!”

That was when we heard the horses and soldiers come in. Before either of us could anticipate a move, I was being carried out of my parlor, by a man with dark red hair. I looked back at my brother just in time to see him drop to his knees after he was viciously stabbed in his stomach. Screaming out; I began to kick at my captor, only to have him back-hand me. My eyes started to blank, and soon I felt myself drift out of consciousness...

I looked out my window again, and made myself a promise; the man who killed my brother was going to regret his very existence.