She looked to the window, sorrow creasing her brow as the rain continued to banter it's never ending drumbeat upon the glass, so close, her cheek pressed to the chilled panes as she waited, wanting, looking, ever desperate for a sign.
It was no ordinary day, none by far as any would have of their own standard. No... He would come to her this day...
A scarlet red ribbon tied about her slender throat, so silken, stark against bare flesh, the ends curling just below her full breasts, leaving a crimson swath to decorate her milky flesh. The bow was small, delicate, as if tied by a child's hands. Yet, was she not a child in many ways? The ribbon sat snug just below the small strip of metal about her neck, words engraved upon its surface, boldly, proudly, this was worn of her own choice. She had given herself to him. And he would come to take her...
Sounds drifted through the house, argument, a fist slamming the oak table, her Mother's curses to her father of why. Why had their child been selected? Why where they coming for her little girl? Why had her father bartered with them using the innocent flesh of a mere girl, somewhere between a woman and a child in innocence?
