Childe of Passion

Crying was useless. That didn't stop Louisé's eyes from producing sufficient tears as she maneuvered herself out of the chateau and into the surrounding forest. She had thrown the rosary into his face, in the hopes their divine power would intervene on her behalf in a more physical, than spiritual, capacity. She never expected them to work as well as they did. A bite to the arm was well worth watching him scream in pain. Then Louisé had done what came naturally and fought to get away, not expecting him to claw her back. The searing agony paralyzed her for an instant. Vengeance gave her the strength to shove him backward but she didn't stay to watch him topple, just listened to the sound of him falling fade behind her as she ran the opposite direction.

Her legs betrayed her twice before she reached the tree line, collapsing once into the dirt and stumbling over a misappropriated piece of farm equipment. All the while, she could feel blood drip down her back and the backs of her legs. Feeling cumbersome in her weighty dressing gown, Louisé abandoned the article of clothing amongst the trees as she ran, disturbed by the size of the stain and slash marks. How bad was the condition of her back? She had no idea, only that every lift of her knees sent another bolt of pain throughout her body.

But she couldn't stop running until she was far enough away, or somewhere safe. She felt the leaves crunch beneath her feet, slick from the drizzle that day. She slid through the undergrowth, arms flying up to smack branches out of her face. Her lungs burned, forcing her to stop so she could feast on air. Her brain was swimming and once she was stopped, she could feel how hard her arms and legs her shaking. Stomach rolling, Louisé gripped a tree and vomited into a pile of leaves and decaying undergrowth. The air now stunk of sour regurgitation, mildewed foliage and iron. Louisé huffed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and whimpered when her nose reminded her of its fragility.

Messy fingers brushed tears, sweat and clinging hair from her face as she turned around in an effort to get her bearings. Which direction had she come from? Which way was forward? Backward? Her heart constricted and she sobbed, realizing how completely lost she was. She had been taunted, assaulted and now stood bloody, if not still bleeding, in the middle of a forest because she believed it would save her life. This must be how the deer felt when hunters came for them, lodging arrows in their pelts with whoops of excitement.

Clouds drifted overhead, revealing the near fullness of the moon. With newfound, pale light Louisé could better see the extent of her state. Both arms were bloodied, one from an open bite mark that throbbed with a dull discomfort and the other from when she had wiped her face after kissing the floor. Her knee ached and stung from having the top layer of flesh scraped off but there was nothing more than a thin trickle, dried up from running. She didn't even need to both with her nose, which ached and swelled from what she could only identify as break. The real damage laid on her back. Gingerly, she navigated a hand backward to make a sightless assessment of the situation. She counted four gashes of varying sizes. The topmost started at her left shoulder blade but didn't extend very far or deep. The two subsequent wounds were worse, creating deep gorges in her muscles. The last wound was barely a scrape, but still stung like all small, seemingly innocuous cuts tend to. Her fingers followed the trail of sticky solution down, over her backside and thighs.

Louisé lifted her dirty nightgown to glance at the back of her legs. They glistened the same way LaCroix's face had. She choked down more vomit but failed to hold it for long. Pitched forward, groaning from her discomfort, she almost didn't catch the sounds of the forest die…become suspiciously still. Louisé raised her eyes and in the distance, among the trunks of the trees darkened like spectres, she saw a figure move.

No…she thought, her mind resuming its panicked disposition. She teetered backwards, spun and continued running though her legs felt more like cold honey. She hear someone crashing through the leaves somewhere behind her. She screamed, a heart-wrenching blend of begging and prayer. Her foot caught a stone, or maybe a root. Tripping, she flew forward and the only insight she had was to cover her face this time as her body hit the ground and rolled down a steady slope. She felt twigs poke her in the side, snag in her hair and leaves tickle her arms as she spun down. She came to rest against a fallen tree trunk. It smelled of moss, dirty and damp. Louisé shook and pressed her face into her arms as she sobbed. She did not move from where she lay. The approaching footsteps told her how futile running was at this point.

"Honestly, Louisé…How far did you think you would get?" LaCroix's taunting broke the silence. The intensity of his presence loomed close over her, a hand pulling her away from the tree, "You're coated in your own blood. I could smell you a mile away."