Broken (The Captive #5.5)(5)
Genny had decided to attempt coming home late with Camille one night too, in order to try and avoid a possible rampage. Felix had been passed out in a drunken stupor when they'd snuck in and crawled onto their small straw pallet. It had been the last time she'd ever tried to avoid him as she'd been ripped out of bed the next morning by her hair and beaten to within an inch of her life while Marie looked on impassively. After that day Genny had always come back before Felix became too drunk, she had no other choice. There was nowhere else for her to go, not while Camille was still so young and vulnerable.
Her sister's beauty was considered by many to be a blessing; Genny sometimes considered it a curse. If she hadn't been so beautiful, Genny would have taken Camille and left this place after the first beating. But there was no way she would be able to get Camille out of here, and keep her safe, while Camille was still so young and her abilities were still so underdeveloped. Even after Camille stopped aging they would still be vulnerable when they left this place, but nowhere near as much as they would be if they left now.
The day that Camille stopped aging would be the last day they ever saw this hut, the hideous man that lived here, or their pathetic excuse of a mother.
Genny continued to move sluggishly around the house as she attempted to work out the knots in her muscles. Her body was already beginning to repair itself but she had to feed. "Camille…"
"I'll get you something," her sister offered as she bounced to her feet. She tugged on her cloak, pulled the hood up and tucked her hair underneath it.
"Stay close," Genny told her but the door was already closing behind her.
Genny limped toward the door and pulled it open. Camille had already disappeared into the encroaching shadows of the night. A few fires burned in the night, the huts closest to them were dark, but then they usually were as their neighbors often went to the club at night. She savored in the fresh air as the breeze caressed her bruised and swollen face.
Turning away, she left the door open to let some of the stale ale scent out of the hut. She hobbled over to the small room she shared with Camille. It was barely big enough to hold the two of them lying down together on their straw pallet, and their two trunks, but at least they had a room separate from Felix and Marie.
Opening her small trunk that was shoved against the wall, she carefully pulled out the clothing tucked neatly inside. Over the years Marie had taken many lovers, some of them had been better off than others. From time to time those men had bought her and her sister some finer pieces of clothing. Most of those clothes were years old now, but Genny took good care of them in order to ensure they would last as long as possible. There was no extra money to spend on clothes.
At the bottom of the trunk was a fake bottom she had created years ago. She removed the bottom and set it aside before taking out the parchment she kept hidden beneath. Then she gathered her quill and a small bottle of ink also hidden beneath the secret bottom. The parchment was the one thing she allowed herself the extravagance of purchasing, but writing was the only escape she'd ever had from the world. The ink she made on her own by collecting and crushing the berries from the woods.
With a moan she rose to her feet, closed the lid on the chest and settled herself in front of it. The only other vampire that knew about what she kept in the trunk was Camille, and her sister would take the secret to the grave with her.
Her mother had gone through more men then Genny had gone through blood over the years, but when she was twelve there had been one that had taken a special interest in her. He'd been a scribe for an aristocrat in China before traveling to England with the nobleman and encountering her mother. Genny would watch in astonishment while he spent hours bent over his desk going about his duties.
She'd never known what it was that he'd seen in her to make him decide to take her under his wing. Maybe it was her silent presence in the room, or maybe he had simply felt sorry for her, but no matter what his motivation he'd decided to teach her how to read and write. She'd spent hours with him going over the documents and putting the quill to paper. In those numerous hours she'd come to understand what had driven him to become a scribe. There was magic within the words that could unfold on a page, and in those words she knew she had found something all her own, something that made her special.
With meticulous care, she placed the fake bottom on her knees to use as her writing table. She placed the parchment on top of it, dipped her quill into the ink and began to write. Writing about her days was the only thing that made them any better and it helped to keep her sane. There was so much uncertainty in her life that the outlet she found in writing was the only constant she had. Her words were the only things that were solely hers.
Though she started out to write about the events of this day, after placing the date in the top corner, she found herself only writing about the events that had taken place within the forest. Sitting back, she stared down at the parchment for a minute. She felt there was something more that she should say, but she didn't know what that could possibly be. She waved her hand over the drying ink before lifting the lid of her trunk. She hid the inkwell and quill back inside before rising to her feet.
She didn't hide the parchment away yet, she had to let it dry first, and the only one that would be returning before midnight was Camille. The minute she thought of her sister, she appeared in the open doorway and stepped into the main room with a fox in her hand. "I brought you something," she whispered.