?

Log in

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Demons, Part 1

Under the cut is Part 1 of my miserable Chalet School fic. I'm going to dump them here in several posts because it's growing to such a size that if I were not to post in parts it would be enormous. Sorry for those not interested.

Part of the reason I like fanfic so much at the moment is that I can write and not have to worry about explaining the character to people too much because the people reading know about that character already.

Warning - this fic contains distressing themes.

Len’s pretty features were marred by a grimace as she pinched at her skin and twisted as hard as she could. She found that these early morning sessions and the ones late at night helped to get her through the day, and what a long day it would be, filled with the high expectations of everyone weighing down on her. She almost wished she had a forest of pine trees around her, protecting her from the avalanche, as they did the alpine settlements all around her school on the Platz.

No one had noticed. She was sure no one would notice. Why should they? Her bruises were confined to her upper thighs - no one would ever see, not in a good school, not with a mother as wedded to old fashions and traditions as hers.

Len sighed and reflected on the mess she was in as she pinched harder ad harder. Capable Len. Solid Len. Clever Len. Dependable Len. Head of the family due to an accident of birth. “They’re all the same age, damn it. The others could take some responsibility too...” Bitter thoughts came spilling out as anger welled up inside her. She took some deep breaths and tried to push the anger back down. Another ten minutes and the rising bell would sound, throwing her into another day of having to be the best and with that she gasped almost as if she had been suffocating. Another day of being the best, top in the form, head girl, destined for Oxford, counsellor to Jack Lambert (who seemed incapable of standing on her own two feet) and the thoughts of after Oxford... What then? A marriage she had been pressured into. And babies. Lots of babies. And parental influence. More terrifying, domesticity of the worst kind, with no outlet for her intellect. Len felt sick as she thought of her marriage, the engagement weighing on her as a yoke.

With the rising bell came a new resolution. Somehow she had to escape.