Jaydrian’s nimble fingers worked quickly, weaving the cloth and thread perfectly. Her eyes were trained on her work, straining slightly in the dim candle-light. Yes, ther was an eletric light in the room, but Jaydrian had never gotten used to--or liked--the cold, feigned glow of light from an electric lamp. The candle suited her just fine.
Her heart raced once again. It always did after she had an encounter with the jerk. Her eyes shifted to glance at the shirt, black with white writing on it. Her /gift/.
/”I thought it would look hot on you.”/
Men hitting on her wasn’t new to Jayd at all. And she just ignored it all, all because she was devoted to Hazel-sama. Her heart had never even skipped a beat for anyone else but Hazel, until now. But there was no way she’d love anyone else, especially not /him./
Sighing lightly, she kept working. The blanket stretched out across her lap in velvetly, incredibly soft material. Suddenly, not even thinking about it, her hand moving completely on it’s own, she raised her hand to her hair, to the scalp and winding the glittery strands around a long finger. With sudden fieceness, she quickly ripped the hair from her scalp. With a cry of pain and surprise, Jayd woke from her revirie, her gold eyes wide as she stared at her hand, which held a long, glittering lock of her hair. Her other hand shot to her scalp from where she’d yanked it out from. A small, warm trickle of blood met her finger.
Suddenly, a memory hit her, like a large wave crashing upon her.
It was her. Her as a little girl. Her when she’d still had /that/ name.
Her eyes focused hard on her work, straining so much they stung. Her fingers worked nimbly, so cold and numb, she thought they might fall off any minute. Her whole thin body shook so violently, to the point of being painful. It was so cold in here....every night...
On every side of her were bars. It was a cage. And a small one, at that. She didn’t hardly have room to stretch out her skinny legs if she’d ever wanted to.
But she tried not to think about it. She had to stay focused. She raised a hand to her thick, curly whitish-blue hair, winding a shining strand around her small finger before yanking it out violently. She winced sharply as he pain shot through her scalp, and she could feel the small trickle of blood run down. Ignoring it, she brought the strand of hair down to the square of cloth in her hand, nimbly winding it into the pattern. After this, she reached down to the rag of a dress she wore that barely come past her thighs and pulled some more threads from the frayed edge, bringing them back to the cloth to also tie in.
For days, she’d been working on the blanket. She knew the men would take it from her if they ever caught her, so during the day, she had to hide it in her underpants. It was made from only her hair, which she’d been yanking out, and the threads of her dress. It was rough, messy and small, but she just /had/ to get it finished for him. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been wearing less than her, only a rag of a cloth around his waist, and she knew he must be horribly freezing. The next time they were allowed to see each other, she would give this to him.
She didn’t hear the footsteps soon enough to hide the blanket. The men came suddenly, from behind her, emerging from the darkness like cold gods of death. She scrambled to hide the cloth, but it was too late. They’d seen it. For a long time, no one moved, the men just gazing at her with cold, suspicious eyes, her staring back in terror and horror, unable to move or do anything.
One man said in his icy, monotone voice, “Take it from her and give it to me.”
The others nodded, stepping forward to grab her through the bars, slamming her against them and prying the cloth from her determined fingers. They took it and handed it back to the first man. He examined it briefly before stating in the same cold voice, “She’s trying to make a rope to escape.”
Her eyes went huge, crying out, “What? No!! It’s a blanket for C--”
A cane came sharply against her hands where she gripped the bars, and she shrieked in pain, jerking back only to slam into the bars on the other side.
“Remove her clothes so she won’t have any materials,” the first man commanded calmly, “oh, and cut her hair.”
Her eyes went huge. Her...her /hair/?!!? Oh God, not her hair. If she loved anything about herself, it was her hair. She immediately shot a hand to it, grasping the thick mass.
The men nodded and moved to open the door to her cage.
“And let the boy watch. I’d like to study his reaction.”
They nodded again. By now, the door was open and the grabbed her thin arm, yanking her out of the cage. She wasn’t dumb enough to fight them, but only got dragged along, shaking in utter fear and horror. They were going to cut her hair...
The brought her to a room that had mirrors on each side of it. How horrifying...she saw her frightened, young face from every angle..... And there was pounding coming from the other side of one of the mirror walls, and a voice...
The men forced her to sit down in a chair, one holding her there while the other got scissors. She shook so hard the man holding her brought his hand back and slapped her roughly. “Sit still,” he ordered firmly.
Suddenly, the other man grabbed a large chunk of her hair from the front, holding it out and bringing the scissors up to it. With a quick ‘snip’ sound, he closed the sharp blades and sliced her hair off, letting the long, silky curls fall to the floor. Her eyes went huge, filling with tears as she watched her beloved hair fall. Another chunk was seized, and off came the hair. She couldn’t help it now and let out a sorrowfilled sob, the tears falling down her cheeks. Not her hair....
But the man kept going. He sliced off lock after lock, still she could no longer feels any weight of it upon her shoulder or neck, and he stood back, setting the scissors aside. Crying silently, she broke an arm free to touch the remains. It was cut almost all the way to her scalp, only tiny curls remaining. Another sob escaped her, and she looked down at the long curls that covered the floor all around her. Her hair....
And the mirrors. She immediately caught sight of herself, on every side. God....
But the man quickly brought her to feet and went around behind her, untying the thin tie of her dress. He ripped it from her, tossing the dirty, ripped remains of her dress to the other man. She covered herself as much as she could, now naked and shaking violently. All around her....
A voice came from behind one of the mirrors, where the pounding persisted, “Leave her there tonight, and tomorrow we’ll put her back in her room.”
The men nodded, leaving through the door they’d entered in and locking it. She stood there for a moment, the silent tears pouring down her cheeks, staring horrifiedly at the reflection of herself in the mirror across from her. Stumbling back, she found the nearest wall, another mirror and sank down against it, her arms wrapped around herself. It was freezing. It was so cold it hurt. Her lips felt blue, her fingers a slight purple. And now she didn’t even have her hair to cover herself up. It was gone. She was naked and ugly. Sobbing silently more, she tried to lay down, curling up in a fetal position to keep warm, and closing her eyes. She wondered if she’d ever fall asleep.
Jaydrian jerked from the memory, her eyes huge. Slowly, she felt a tear slip down her white cheek. Shaking her head quickly, she wiped it hastily, breathing heavy in horror. That...Gods, she’d never wanted to remember that....she’d wanted it pushed as far back as possible.
Her gaze slowly fell upon the blanket, which she held in her trembling hands. Why....why was she making this? With a pained cry, she threw the blanket, needles and all, from her hands and lap onto the floor as if it’s been a poisioness snake. No...there’s no way it could be him. No way. Her mind wouldn’t accept it. Why was she making the damned thing??!
For a long time, Jayd just sat there, trembling and staring at the blanket, her gold eyes huge. Slowly, she began to calm herself. It was just a stupid memory from the past. It had nothing to do with now. And she was simply making him a blanket because he’d gotten her a gift. It was only poliet. Why a blanket? She knew he must sleep outside everything night. Perhaps he got cold.... more memories rushed at her, but she blocked herself from them. It wasn’t /him/! Gritting her teeth, she bent forward to pick up the blanket again. I won’t believe he’s my Prince. The boy....the boy who’d tried to save her. If she ever loved anyone but Hazel-sama, it was that boy. Her Prince. If she believed the asshole was her Prince, she’d have to be in love with him.
Her eyes half lidding, Jayd silently began working on the blanket again.