In Moscow when we lived with our parents, bless their souls, we had what you could call a happy life. The cold, above all, was reminiscent. It reminded us of our life in Moscow. The way, Lye and I walked through our family’s huge and ancient property in the middle of winter. The property was worth nothing in the fiscal eyes of the greedy. Rather the ancient manor, with its looming towers, and stone walls, stained glass, patterned tapestries, thick with dust, carried a sentimental value worth more than any gold ingot.
We walked through the snow covered fields, barefoot, reveling in the rush we got from such liberty. Liberty was sovereignty. Our feet were numbed by the ferocious cold, but it didn’t matter. We sauntered around casually, but our consciousness was elsewhere. I watched Lye marvel at the gray sky. And Lye watched as I indulged in the serene nuance of the bare trunks of the elder trees. My fiery nature was extinguished by the cold. It soothed the soul. The crisp and clean wind, awoke my senses, it was exhilarating. Roaming through this inhospitable landscape with Lye fulfilled all my desires at once. When Lye and I were lost in our surroundings, we cast off the shackles of uniformity. In the cold and snow, we were home. Home was magnificence. Like our family’s manor, magnificence has a priced unnamed.
I started when I heard the bedsprings next to me creak. Without a single word, I rolled over. With relief, I saw Lye looking at me- into me. The magnetism of our gaze drew me into her. Into her soul, into her heart. Her trembling heart. So full of feeling, it was as if it would burst. A tear that slowly rolled down Lye’s pale cheek, told me more than words ever could. It was a catastrophic, tumult of emotion, incomprehensible. The sniff that followed was like a symphony of fervor. I understood her exact meaning. Her feeling existed within me, and mine, within her. For all our differences, Lye and I were the same. She was sanctuary. Lye was the force that kept my brutish nature at bay. The Headmistress called me immoral, my mother called me egocentric. Delilah called me love.
The Headmistress, the totalitarian ruler of this prison, had a long standing dislike against Lye and me. She reminded me of the figures my grandparents used to speak of with such distaste. The last Tsar of Russia. Poor Nicholas was hated by all, because he represented the force that had oppressed the population for a century before him. My abhorrence for Headmistress Stone was no different to that. I harbored the hatred that the hundred thirty two million people of our nation had towards the Tsar, against the Headmistress. She was a cold woman, but was especially cruel to us. Our purposeful insolence toward her and our arrogant defiance infuriated her. Headmistress Stone lived and breathed a prudish decorum that was out of place in this world. Headmistress reveled in enforcing regulations, and her fulfillment of ridiculous policies. Lye did not wish to co-exist with such an individual. Her oppression; we couldn’t bear any longer.
The springs in my bed creaked, as I lifted my arm out to her outstretched hand. Like the two vines that used to grow outside our window, grew into one, the same could be said for Delilah and me. As we rolled onto our sides, we looked down immediately. There we saw, laying on the floor, Headmistress Stone. Her small brown eyes, wide open and staring up at us, as if in shock. Her cold heart, frozen and still forever. Her thin lips, pursed in an incessant look of disgust. Her body lay stiff on the hardwood floor. Never again would we see her in her long black skirts, glide through the corridor. Or hear her shrill voice yell sharp words of dismissal. Her neck, showed marks in the shape of my hands. And my hands had a dulled scent of the musk perfume she wore.
My eyes darted back up and fixed their gaze with Lye’s. Our hands outstretched, shaking, came together. Our cold fingertips touched, and upon contact, I felt Lye’s warmth pulse through my body. All of Lye’s emotion surged through me, and mine through hers. It warmed my cold body, like no fire, coat or blanket could. For a moment, our hearts beat in time, I could feel it through the pulse in our fingers. And in that instant, we were infinite.