The farm was a safe, warm place in her memory of her life. After the farm, things grew a little darker, but the farm was home. Her father was a respectable man, who was tall, strong, stunningly handsome. Her mother wasn't beautiful per say, being a little chubby with ratty straight hair and an odd shape to her face. But her mother was beautiful in her own way, and her father clearly loved her mother.
When she was born, she was given the name Margaret. Her hair was a deep auburn color, her eyes an almost navy shade of blue, and her skin softly tanned. The little girl was born so beautiful, with, as some like to say, a grin on her face. She was raised on the respectable farm with her mother and father. After her birth, her mother had a little girl, and before her was her eldest brother, who was about ten when she was born.
Margaret grew up tending after he little sister, learning to sew, cook, and clean with her mother. Her brother and father worked on their farm as the women tended to the house. Many times neighboring women would come over as well with their children, and Margaret would be given permission to run off and play with the other children. Those were Margaret's favorite days.
The children played games outside, climbed trees, and if they got their father's permission they could go leap into the creek. Which they liked to do on hot days in the middle of summer. During winter times, the kids didn't come by as much, but when they would the group would play in the snow and create drawings with their fingers on the surface of the snow.
In the group, Margaret's closest friend was another little girl who was about a year older then her, who had thick blonde ringlets and deep green eyes. She was a breathtakingly beautiful little girl, and Margaret loved to play with her most. As the years went by their games changed, and in time they stopped playing and would just talk and tease one another. Running around turned into walking around, their dresses became finer, their words became more serious. They all grew up like everyone does.
As Margaret neared the marriage age of fifteen, for that time at least, her father began to search for a match based upon what he thought his daughter would prefer. Margaret had no knowledge of this though, but she did notice her father introduce her to many young men to see how she reacted to them. This was happening until the night when Margaret heard shrieking on her father's farm of the animals.
Margaret's father told her and her mother to stay as he rushed out alone. Her brother had moved out three years before and he left to travel north. Where he went to, Margaret didn't actually know, but she knew he was gone. The three stayed in the room before the door was busted down in front of them.
Everything kind of happened too fast for Margaret to exactly remember, but she remembered men grasping her. She remembered seeing her father and mother dead, her house on fire. And then she was tied to a tree with her little sister in the middle of the forest. Her dress torn, chunks of her hair having been yanked out, and a bruise forming on her cheek. The men were loud; they sat around the fire cheering and laughing.
What disgusting men, she thought to herself as she watched them. She couldn't understand what man would choose to live that way. What man could be so cruel... but maybe not all of them were so cruel...
-To be Continued-
