*Note: "Bold, italics" = Natsu's notes ; "Italics" = Lucy's notes

Chapter 2: The light

Someone. There's someone out there who can help me.

The poem in her hands now served as a lifeline for her, hope was once again restored in her heart. For if this note were true, then someone must have left it on her table for her. And if he could do that, that means this secret admirer could get in, and most importantly, out.

Several schemes began to form in her mind, of her running away from this prison with her white knight in shining armour, of them living together in hut in the woods. To her, it didn't matter if the person who liked her was rich enough to buy ten plots of land or poor enough not to be able to afford a simple house. If he loved her and she were able to love him, it would make her the happiest girl in the world.

Not that she knew what he was like at all, but she could still hope for her tall dark knight, right?

~.~.~.~

She hatched a plan while resting under the apple tree that day with a book in her hand. There was no guarantee of it, but all she could do was try.

She knew for a fact that her admirer must only have left the note on her table at night whilst she was still sailing in dreamland. And for him to be able to do that, he must have known that guards were posted all around the perimeter of their home 24/7. Two main guards at the front gate, two at the back, one guard in each section of the garden, one occupying the roof and another two at the giant oak front doors. An additional six guards in total were in charge of the inside of the house at night.

Her father was a sometimes paranoid man, but all his precautions have managed to deter any thieves who wanted to attempt break-ins. All this with the help of his privately hired guards who excelled in use of weaponry and the martial arts.

To be able to bypass all the guards in the middle of the night and make it all the way into her room, her admirer was indeed a very capable man who knew at least, the layout of the guards. That must surely mean that her admirer either somehow guessed all the positions of the guards right, or he had observed said guards many times before. Which meant, even as she sat there under the bright red apples, her admirer might have been watching her.

The notion naturally sent a chill down her spine, but she wasn't too afraid. If he were as sweet as his words, then he would not mean her any harm. Unless of course he were a serial murderer who had placed a big fat target on her face, but even then she would think it better than to be held against her own will. (She was imaginative and utterly ridiculous that way sometimes)

Also, there was a line in the poem which made her wonder about her admirer's whereabouts at the moment. Looking around, she whipped the note out of the pocket of her dress. She kept it on her since this morning to ensure her father didn't 'accidentally' find it.

Then I'll just wish for your happiness,
From within the shadows.

What did "shadows" here mean? Surely in a pure literature point of view, it could be just another description. Yet reading the poem as a whole gives the sense that the writer is not well-versed in a descriptive writing style, one which uses figurative terms much. There were a few instances when the poet did use figurative words, but how much of them were actually literal? The "shadows" could literally mean that he was watching her from the shadows.

It was an insubstantial theory, fuelled more by her desire to escape than her rational train of thought. But if there was a one in a million chance that she was right, and oh god please let her be right, she would take it.

The sky darkened with rain clouds threatening to spill. She got up, patted the back of her dress to rid it of the grass, turned to walk back to the house and slowly slipped her handkerchief to the ground, hoping that her admirer may notice the note in it.

"If you are the one who wrote me the poem, you have my warmest thanks. It saved me, because I have a feeling that you truly do care for me and that you can help me.
Please, help me get out of here, out of my prison."

~.~.~.~

The next morning, she pushed herself out of bed with the same dread, yet her heart was pounding in a sort of anticipation. Did he get my note? Did he read it? Looking out the window, she saw that the grass was still wet, so were the benches. It had rained quite heavily last night, so she was worried her admirer may not have made it in time to read her note.

Sighing softly, she reached over to her table for her hair tie only to notice her handkerchief and a yellowed piece of paper folded neatly on her tabletop. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Hastily, she grabbed the note off the table and opened it.

"I don't know how to start. The poem is just a mirror reflecting my feelings for you and I still am not sure if you have received them well. But I am most honoured that you think I can help you, and would love to do so. Yet I can't help you, for I am in no position to do so, I am sorry. If I did help you, you would come to hate me. If I can I would, but I can't. I'm sorry."

She balled her fists in anger and humiliation. Who was he to say those things? How could he assume that he was to be hated after he had helped her? She would have been extremely grateful! She would have thanked him, not hate him! Who was he to write all those honeyed words and now run away with his tail tucked between his legs when things got rough?

She tossed the note into the far corners of her room and slumped back onto her bed.

Her only hope, lost.

~.~.~.~

For the hundredth time that day, she wondered what compelled her to do this. Perhaps because she wanted another chance to escape her fate, perhaps she had a feeling that her admirer had his own reasons or perhaps she was crazy. The last option seemed pretty appealing by now.

"Why would I hate you? I have no reason to do so, so think not of assuming things, especially when those things concern me. Please understand when I say this: You are my only hope. If you can't help me, no one else can. And if no one can, then I shall be married to someone whom I don't even know against my will in a few weeks.
If you care for me, if you truly care for me, then help me.
I shall be staying up late tonight to await your answer."

When dusk had settled in, she dropped her handkerchief once again to the ground.

~.~.~.~

The sky was dark, stars speckled in the velvet night sky. Moonlight shone into the room, illuminating the space in a soft blue glow. The clock showed that it was past 3 in the morning, but there was still no sign of her admirer.

She went to sleep soon after.

~.~.~.~

She woke up to the sound of birds chirping, went through the same motions to find the same things placed on her table. Picking the yellowed note up, she frowned.

"You will hate me Lucy. Everyone does, especially at first sight. I am not being insecure, it is a known fact. I want to help you, I really do! But I don't wish to be hated by the girl who I have fallen in love with.
Please, don't break my already hurt heart."

The dried ink on the note was smudged, the writing a messy scrawl. Marks on the edge which looked like water drops. In that moment, Lucy felt her own heart hurt for this man. Was he really that afraid of her hating him that he would sacrifice his pride to spill it out to her? Was this the truth?

It was difficult for her not to believe it were the truth, so sincere were his words in that brief note. Maybe, just maybe, he is afraid that he would repel me. Yet the only reason she could think of his insecure self were to have people hate him because of his looks. He mentioned people hating him at first sight, and not much is there to be gleamed about a person's true self when one first meets them.

Was he extremely ugly or unappealing to society? Maybe he was hunchbacked, or he has warts all over his face, or he had a disfiguration of some sort. Whatever it was, if she looked at him straight in the face, would she be able to love him? Would she, like all the others before her, be afraid or disgusted with his appearance?

She pulled a chair, picked up her fountain pen and began to write the next note.

~.~.~.~

What was he to do? For several days now, Lucy had been 'accidentally' dropping her handkerchief and leaving him notes. He was elated that she acknowledged his presence, so happy he had accidentally set a pile of leaves on fire, but she was asking for the moon from him.

He could get her out, it was a piece of cake. What worried him most was her reaction to his appearance. No one would like a monster to come help them.

He hung his head and sighed. Opening the note carefully with both hands, he reread it.

"To be honest, I don't care what you look like. So you may not be a tall dark handsome stranger that every girl is looking for, but you must be a very kind person. Otherwise, you wouldn't think of trying to help me.
Whether or not you wish to help me, I will just say this. No, I don't hate you. And I will not hate you just because of your looks. I am not that fickle of a person to judge a book by its cover, please do understand that.
You have stood me up once already, but I shall be waiting tonight. I have my essentials packed and I shall wait. Whether or not you wish to come save me from my cage."

It was an ultimatum. Either whisk her away from her house tonight or never be able to win her heart again. She will feel betrayed and disappointed. She might, no, definitely will shed tears again. And he didn't want to see her like that, didn't want to make her any more sad than she was. He wanted her to smile again, that warm smile, like she always did.

But when she sees me, she will scream. She will begin to toss objects at me. She might cry out of fear. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. What am I to do?

~.~.~.~

She sits on the edge of her bed, staring into blank space. The clock showed a little over 2 in the morning and she was gradually losing her ability to keep her eyes open. She hoped that he would come and save her, she hoped that her note was convincing enough.

Beside her was a small pack filled to the brim with clothes, several of her favourite books, ink and paper. It was difficult choosing things to pack into her small bag, even more difficult when she thought about the things she would leave behind. No matter what, her father would still be her father.

He isn't coming, is he? She smiles sadly as her heart clenched in her chest, a dull feeling. She thought that she could count on him, but it would seem that she was kicked the pack underneath her bed swiftly. Just as she was about to crawl underneath the covers and cry herself to sleep again, she heard a soft tap.

Turning around to the source of the sound, her brown eyes widened in surprise. Illuminated by the blue moonlight, sitting on her window sill, was no man. Horns, claws, fangs, scales and large wings. It was a monster.

She was trembling, she knew. Her throat was parched. She felt a sudden boost of adrenaline coursing through her veins, asking her to shout, scream, do something, anything! But she was glued to the ground. She inhaled a shaky breath.

"Lucy?" The monster spoke, a soft whisper which sounded human. "Lucy, please, don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you." The monster held out both his hands in a sign of surrender and stared right at her. She steeled her nerves to stare back.

Bright eyes, a dark greenish-yellow in colour in slanted pupils. Yet she sensed no malice in them, instead they were pleading to her. She gathered herself. "W-who are you?" she whispered back.

The monster showed a little relief, probably because she did not scream at him just yet. "I'm..." he stopped to scratch the back of his head, a sheepish expression coming across his features. "Uh, I'm your secret admirer."

She had guessed as much.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! A tad short but I like to keep it simple.
See you in the next chapter!