Azila makes the very good point that my characters need to be more rounded. I'm not very good at developing my characters in short pieces like this, so if anyone has any tips, I'd really appreciate it.
Melody frowned as she surveyed the ebony en-cloaked grounds below her. Still no sign of Haydn. Usually, her calm facade was impenetrable, but now she could feel panic falling in unison with the darkness.
Her uncle, who was, for the most part, a stubborn and unrelenting man, had come to a compromise with her over breakfast the previous morning; if a suitable young man came to seek her hand before the dawning of the next day, she could wed with him instead of Mr. O'Donnell, whom her uncle had chosen. Her heart had hummed happily as they shook on it, and she'd contacted Haydn at once. He'd promised to come. But now time was running out.
Frustrated and anxious, she crossed the room briskly, and wrenched the ornate brass door handle downwards. The door didn't budge. It seemed that her uncle was trying to show her that, in spite of their deal, he was still the one who held the power.
"Come on, Haydn!" She whispered desperately, clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles seemed in danger of bursting right through her pale skin. She couldn't imagine what was taking him so long.
She returned to the window, still fighting not to cry. Her hope had been beautiful and enchanting, but it seemed to have the lifespan of a butterfly.
She took a book from her sparsly stacked shelf and began to flick through it, turning the pages with a far greater force than was required. The words slipped through her pupils but got lost before they reached her brain. She snapped the book shut and pushed it aside. She couldn't just sit there, not now that her future was so close to being decided.
She pushed open the window and felt the outside world flooding in, whispering a thousand things to her all at once, whipping her dark hair around her face. It was a long way to the ground. She'd never survive a jump like that, at least not in one piece.
Melody glanced at her bed; just one little blanket and a thin sheet. She wrenched both away from the matress, her hands shaking so badly that she could almost hear her bones rattling. She wasn't strong enough to rip the sheet. Frustrated, she clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms.
Helplessly, she searched the room for a scissors, but to no avail. She pressed her lips together resolutely;she'd just have to take her chances.
Fired with new strength (or recklessness), she tied the sheet to the blanket and fastened the end to the bedpost, then pulled the pillowcase off her pillow and added it to her makeshift rope.
She held her breath as she tossed the end into the night's gaping mouth. Clutching the sheet, she backed out onto the windowsill. Her foot slipped, and she gasped, clutching the material ever tighter. The stone was wet, and her satin slippers were hardly appropriate for the task at hand.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she eased her feet off the sill. They flailed madly in the air. She needed to scream, but didn't dare open her mouth.
"You should have just given in." She reprimanded herself silently. She'd always been so good at it-until she met Haydn, that is. He'd caused her thoughts, her instincts, her behavior, to shift like the coloured fragments of a kaleidoscope. Trying to silence her thoughts, she slid further down the rope. Her right shoe came off and plummeted down into the black. She cursed as the bitter cold fangs of night closed around the newly exposed skin.
The sky was beginning to lighten, softening until it was the same blue as the ocean. She told herself that she needed to be gone before her uncle came in to gloat, but she had never been athletic, and was horribly clumsy. Her breathing was becoming strained and her lower arms ached. The rope was running out. It was time to let go.
Her instincts screamed at her not to, but she wrenched one hand free, slipping a little as a result. The other fist would not unclench. But Fate knew what she had to do, and pushed her to do it. The dreadful sound of ripping was deafening. The consequent forced meeting with the ground shot through her whole body from the base of her spine. She groaned, then sucked in a breath. Cringing, she dragged herself to her feet and gingerly dusted herself off. Trying hard to ignore her aches, she scrabbled around for her shoe. Her hand closed around it and she shoved it impatiently onto her foot, struggling to maintain her balance. She hurried forwards, refusing to acknowledge the way her limbs protested in agony at every step.
She almost smiled as the air whipped around her. Freedom would have tasted sweet if she'd had the time to savor it. She had almost reached the gates when she heard the wailing. Instinctively, she turned and moved towards the perceived source. She soon found herself at the back of the grounds, at the mouth of the forest. She hesitated. If she had sense she'd ignore it and concentrate on her escape. But, she reasoned, if she had sense, she'd still be locked in her room.
Silencing her thoughts, she maneuvered her way through the branches, wincing as they lashed around her face. The smell of pine needles was overpowering. Still, she pressed blindly forward, flailing her arms as her one defense. The mighty trees blocked out all threads of light. Indeed, she was almost grateful when the screams rose to a deafening pitch, offering direction.
She fumbled awkwardly in the black until her hands came into contact with a damp, mossy wall. Running her hands up it, she found a window divided by three metal bars. She shook her head in disgust. She'd long since decided that her uncle was the epitome of evil, but having a prison in the grounds was a bit much.
"Hello?" She called as loudly as she dared. The wailing stopped. She held her breath. If she squinted, she could almost make out the figure of a young girl.
"I will not be silenced," the girl told her hoarsely. "You tell your master that."
"I'm his possession, not his servant." Melody told her bitterly. "I'm no threat. But tell me, why are you locked up? You don't look old enough to be a threat."
"Looks can be deceiving," the girl told her dryly. "In any case, you're right. I'm not the threat. I'm leverage to ensure my brother's cooperation."
Melody inhaled sharply. "And who's your brother?"
"Haydn Brooke." The girl replied, almost proudly.
Melody paused, trying to steady herself. "I'm sorry."
"You're Melody." The girl said, trying to study her more closely.
"Yes. Tell me, have you had word from Haydn? I was just on my way to find him..."
The girl grimaced. "In the study with your uncle as we speak. You'd better get out of here before someone comes to check on me." Her face was a portrait of self-disgust.
Melody didn't seem to hear. "How'd he get here without me seeing? I've been by the window constantly..."
The girl snorted. "No sleeping, no eating, no going to the bathroom? Anyway, I'll bet your uncle told him to take the back way."
Melody's resolve strengthened. "He won't get away with this."
"Time's running out," the girl scowled. "Why couldn't Haydn love someone safe, someone who wouldn't bring us these sorts of troubles?"
"I'll set things right." Her hope was returning. He'd come for her after all.
She rushed to the study. All she could do now was remind her uncle to honor his agreement. She hammered on the door and entered without invitation.
Haydn was seated opposite her uncle, who sat at his desk smiling smugly. To Melody's alarm,his smile did not fade when he saw her.
"Now how did you get out?" he asked, in the closest thing to a cheerful tone that she'd ever heard him use. "Never mind. I suppose it's only right that you should have one last look at your betrayer."
"What?" Melody paled, gripping the back of the chair closest to her in order to stay standing.
"A generous sum and the safe release of his sister in return for the retraction of all interest in you, and his immediate departure from the city."
"No." Melody whispered, trying to repress the urge to vomit. Haydn wouldn't look at her.
"I have it in writing," her uncle grinned and waved the paper before her. "Return to your room. I'll write at once to Mr. O'Donnell to tell him you're accepting his proposal. Melody obeyed. There was nothing to be gained from disobedience now. Indeed, there was nothing to be gained from anything.
Or am I just being dumb?