5. Bella

5

BELLA

T he water in the wooden tub feels cold against my skin, but I barely notice. Mara's gentle hands work soap through my hair. Her touch is a stark contrast to the harsh reality of what's to come. Tears blur my vision, turning the flickering candlelight into a hazy glow.

"There, there," Mara murmurs, her voice catching. "It'll be over soon."

I want to laugh at the absurdity of her words, but all that comes out is a choked sob. "Over? My life, you mean?"

She doesn't respond, just continues washing my hair in silence. I close my eyes and try to savor these last moments of familiarity. The scent of lavender soap fills my nostrils, a cruel reminder of normality.

When I step out of the tub, Mara wraps me in a soft cloth. "Time for the ceremonial garments," she says in a soft voice.

The white dress she helps me into feels foreign against my skin. It's made of a material I've never felt before, smooth and cool to the touch. As Mara fastens the intricate clasps at the back, I catch a glimpse of myself in the polished metal mirror.

I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me. My usually unruly curls have been tamed, falling in soft waves around my shoulders. The dress hugs my figure in a way my usual winter clothes never do. I look... beautiful. And completely petrified.

A knock at the door startles us both. "It's time," a voice calls from outside.

Mara gives my hand a squeeze. "Remember, you're doing this for all of us. You're so brave, Bella."

Brave? Is that what they're calling it now? I want to scream, to run, to hide. But I don't. I simply nod, my voice lost somewhere in the pit of my stomach.

As we step outside, I'm greeted by a group of village women. Their faces are a mix of pity and reverence. They surround me, adjusting my dress, adding final touches to my hair.

"You look beautiful, dear," one of them says, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Like a true hero," another adds.

Their words wash over me, meaningless platitudes that do nothing to ease the growing dread in me. I want to tell them to stop, to leave me alone, but I can't find the strength. So I stand there, a silent lamb being prepared for slaughter, as they continue their ministrations.

The women's hands flutter around me like nervous birds. Their touches, once comforting, now feel like chains binding me to this cruel fate. I stand rigid, my heart pounding so hard I fear it might burst from my chest.

"There," Mara says, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "You look perfect."

Perfect for what? To be devoured by a monster? The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I struggle to keep my composure. I want to scream, to lash out, to demand why they're doing this to me. But the words catch in my throat, trapped behind years of meek compliance.

"Thank you," I manage to whisper, hating how small my voice sounds.

Elder Belinda approaches, her weathered face a mask of false sympathy. "Bella, my dear, you're doing a great service for our village."

I meet her gaze, searching for any hint of remorse, but find only cold determination. How easily they sacrifice me as if I'm nothing to them. The betrayal cuts deep, leaving a raw, aching wound in my soul.

"What if..." I start, my voice trembling. "What if there's another way?"

The women exchange glances, a mixture of pity and impatience in their eyes.

"Hush now," one of them says, patting my arm. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Harder for whom? I want to ask. For them, who get to return to their families and their lives? Or for me, being sent to my death?

As they lead me towards the village square, my mind races with desperate thoughts of escape. But where would I go? The waira prowl beyond our borders, and I have no survival skills to speak of.

"Remember," Elder Belinda says, her bony fingers digging into my arm, "your sacrifice ensures the safety of everyone you love."

Love. The word tastes bitter in my mouth. If this is love, I want no part of it. But even as anger and fear war within me, I can't bring myself to voice these thoughts. I've spent too long being the good girl, the one who never causes trouble. And now, that very nature has sealed my fate.

As we approach the village square, my heart races uncontrollably. The weight of my fate crushes down on me, and suddenly, I can't breathe. I can't do this. I won't.

Without thinking, I wrench my arm from Elder Belinda's grasp and bolt. My bare feet slap against the cold, hard ground as I run, the ceremonial dress billowing around me. For a moment, just a moment, I taste freedom.

"Bella! Stop her!" Elder Belinda's shrill voice cuts through the air.

I dart between houses, my lungs burning as I gasp for air. The village blurs around me, familiar sights twisted into a maze of potential escape routes. I spot a narrow passage between two buildings and make a sharp turn.

"There she is!" A deep voice booms from behind me.

Heavy footsteps thunder in pursuit. I push myself harder, my legs screaming in protest. The passage opens up to a small clearing, and I see the village wall. If I can just reach it...

Rough hands grab my arms, yanking me backward. I cry out, more in frustration than pain.

"Let me go!" I struggle against the iron grip of Gareth, one of the village hunters. His calloused hands dig into my skin as he holds me in place.

"Can't do that, Bella," he grunts, effortlessly lifting me off my feet as I kick and squirm. "You know this has to be done."

Tears of anger and despair blur my vision. "Please," I beg, my voice breaking. "Don't do this."

"I thought you were braver than this, Bella," Elder Belinda says, her tone dripping with disappointment as she approaches. "Think of the village. Think of the lives you'll save."

Her words sting, but they also ignite a spark of defiance I didn't know I had. "And who thinks of my life?" I spit back, surprising myself with the venom in my voice.

A murmur ripples through the small crowd that has gathered. I see doubt flicker across some faces, but it's quickly replaced by resolve.

"Take her to the square," Elder Belinda commands, turning away. "And make sure she doesn't try to run again."

As Gareth starts to drag me back, my brief moment of courage crumbles. I slump in his arms, the fight draining out of me. The cold reality settles in – there's no escape. No one is coming to save me. I'm alone, truly alone.

And as we near the village square, the weight of my solitude threatens to crush me entirely.

Elder Belinda's eyes narrow as she surveys the scene. "Change of plans. We'll conduct the ritual outside the village."

My heart sinks even lower. They're taking away my last moments in the only home I've ever known. Gareth's grip on my arm tightens as he leads me towards the village gates. The crowd follows, a somber procession in the fading light.

As we pass through the gates, the familiar warmth of the village gives way to the chill of the forest. The trees loom over us, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. Shadows dance across the ground as we make our way deeper into the forest.

"Here," Elder Belinda announces, gesturing to a small clearing.

The villagers form a circle around me. Their faces, once so familiar, now seem alien in the ghostly light. I search for a friendly face, someone who might speak up for me, but find only solemn resignation.

"Bella," Mara steps forward. "I... I'm sorry it had to be you."

I want to scream that she's not sorry enough to stop this madness. But the words die in my throat. What good would it do now? Instead, we embrace in a hug one last time, and I see the tears glistening in her eyes.

Elder Belinda clears her throat. "It's time. Bella, step into the center of the clearing."

My legs feel like lead as I move. The cold ground beneath my bare feet is freezing, and I shiver.

Elder Belinda approaches, a small pouch in her wrinkled hands. "These herbs will... ease your journey," she says, her voice devoid of emotion.

The pungent scent of the herbs fills my nostrils as she opens the pouch. My stomach churns with fear and revulsion. Is this how it ends? Drugged and left as a sacrifice in the cold, dark forest?

"Take them," Elder Belinda insists, holding out a handful of dried leaves.

I stare at the herbs, my mind racing. What if I refuse? But as I look around at the grim faces surrounding me, I realize it's futile. They've made their choice, and I'm powerless to change it.

With trembling hands, I reach for the herbs. The leaves feel rough against my palm. I bring them to my lips, hesitating for a moment.

I look around one last time at the faces of those I've known my whole life. Words soon bubble up inside me – angry words, pleading words, words of forgiveness and condemnation. But in the end, only one thing comes out.

"I hope..." My voice cracks, and I swallow hard. "I hope it's worth it."

I then close my eyes, steeling myself for what's to come. The bitter taste of the herbs fills my mouth as I chew, each swallow feeling like a betrayal to myself.

Elder Belinda raises her arms. "Let the ritual begin!"

The forest seems to hold its breath, waiting. And in that moment, suspended between the life I knew and the unknown that awaits, I feel utterly terrified.