February 12, 2012
I was young. All the material items that one could ever desire belonged to me. Everything was given to me upon my request. I was in the inner circle of first class London society.

I remember the first time I went to a ball. My handmaid Mary dressed me in a shimmering blush gown and plaited my fiery locks with here knobby fingers. My youthful face shone with excitement and anticipation for the memorable party I would soon grace. That evening happiness seized me. I twirled and bowed and dipped and conversed with others socially equal to myself.

Yet after the first year of endless balls and events, the colors of my gowns blended to form one nauseatingly vibrant shade. The scintillating crystal chandeliers blinded my green eyes when I entered the ball room, and the endless tapping of heels on the pale marble sickened my ears. The same conversations occurred evening after evening, while their babbling voices echoed throughout the chambers of the mansion. Monotony consumed me.

One cool spring afternoon, I perched myself next to my window and gazed out at the multitude of trees reawakening from their winter slumber. I observed the budding flowers scattered on the forest floor and heard the peaceful chirps of birds as they gathered their meals. I decided that I needed to do something, anything to excite me again. I needed a thrill.

"Miss Lucinda, your bath is ready." I jumped, surprised by the sudden interruption. Noticing my startled motion, Mary hurriedly exclaimed, "I am deeply sorry of I disturbed you! Shall I draw your bath for another time?"
"No," I replied distractedly. I stood up, "Actually, yes."
"Is there anything I can get for you?" Mary inquired with genuine concern. Her motherly pale blue eyes carefully examined my face. This type of behavior from her occurred frequently. She raised me from my infancy and therefore she could detect when something troubled me.
"No, but I think I will go on a walk to enjoy the weather. Join me, will you?"
"Of course. The fresh air will do you good. Let me retrieve your cloak and hat."

The cool air did do me well. Walking through the forest and having the moist ground squish beneath my petite feet cleared my thoughts. As we neared a river, some unearthly energy seized me. I halted, and turned to Mary.
"Yes, Miss? Do you need a rest?" Mary inquired. I didn't respond. My hand clasped Mary's throat without me telling it.

Her eyes bulged, "Miss?" I remained silent. Tears formed in her kind eyes, "Lucinda?" My grip tightened. An unseen strength consumed me. Her weakening pulse felt right between my cool palms. Mary looked me straight in the eyes, "Please," she gasped.
"Of course." My hands fell to my side like heavy weights. Mary bent over, fighting to catch her breath. I saw her frail bones moving in tune to her raspy breathing.
"Oh Miss Lucinda, thank you." Mary cried.

Then, when kind, old Mary wasn't looking, I lunged foreword and thrust her fragile body into the rushing river. She shrieked for only a moment before the water quieted her cries for help. I saw her tattered dress weigh her body down as her arms hopelessly flailed in the rushing current. Her weak motions finally ceased as her last breath escaped her.

I stood up and brushed off any debris that might have been on my skirt. Then, I smiled. Satisfied, I strolled back to my house to enjoy my bath.

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